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a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn0-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn0-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6db460f514e2702da5298ed585f9db143f289ff1 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn0-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This story is about a little girl who is a witch, and it’s fair to say that it’s more sweet than spooky. Her name is Katie, and her school mates think she is rather odd, and don’t really believe that she can do magic. She’s afraid of Halloween, because she thinks they will tease her more than usual, but in fact she has quite a few useful tricks and treats up her sleeve. Read by Natasha. Duration 8.52 Once upon a time, there was a girl called Katie. Katie was seven. And she lived in nice house with her mum and a dog called Muffin. And it was all quite normal really. Except for one thing. They were witches. Well, except for Muffin, who was a D-witch, which is a dog who casts spells. Anyway being a witch wasn’t so bad. Mum would just twitch her nose and all the cleaning would get done. Dad would wave his stick, and the lawn would cut itself. Muffin would click his paws, and a few dog treats would tumble out of the sky. They’d even taught Katie some magic. She knew how to make her homework do itself. And her room got tidied just by twitching her ear. But there was just one thing Katie really didn’t like. Halloween. Once a year, when the leaves were falling off the trees, and the nights were getting longer, all the children in her school and along her street would get terribly excited about Halloween. They made costumes of horrible looking witches. With long pointy noses, and spots, and nasty black hats, and broomsticks. And Katie said in school: “Witches aren’t like that, really. My mum looks quite nice.” And all the other girls fell about laughing. “Katie thinks she’s a witch,” they laughed. “She’s ugly and horrible, just like a witch.” And when Katie went home that day, she was really upset. She cried and cried and cried. And when her mum asked her what the matter was, she said: “Everyone hates witches. And they especially hate them at Halloween.” And her mum tried to explain that although some people didn’t like witches, it was also quite useful sometimes, like when the washing up got done all by itself. “I don’t ever want to have anything to do with witch-craft again,” said Katie angrily. But on Halloween night, all the girls from her school were organising a trick or treat tour of the street. And Katie didn’t want to go, because she’d decided she didn’t want to have anything to do with witch-craft. Never, never, never…. But her mum said she had to. Because a witch can hardly stay in on Halloween. And she whispered something in Katie’s ear. Do you know what it was? Well, I’ll tell you in a minute. Anyway, Katie went to join the other girls. And some of them started laughing at her. “Katie doesn’t have to dress up, because she’s already a witch,” they laughed. And Katie felt cross. And embarrassed. But she decided to say nothing. At the first house, they got a load of sherbet lemons. At the second, a jumbo pack of sweeties. At the third, loads and loads of crisps. And at the forth, a giant packet of chocolate biscuits. But at the fifth house, there lived a man called Mr Bones. And Mr Bones didn’t like children. He certainly didn’t see why he should give them any treats. “Buzz off, you stupid kids,” he said when they knocked on the door. “Trick or treat, trick or treat…” cried the girls. “Yes, well, I think I’ll take the trick, if it’s all the same to you,” said Mr Bones. And a horrible smile creased up his face. “Because you’re just a bunch of stupid little girls, and you don’t scare me.” “But one of us is a real witch,” said Amelia, the biggest of the girls. “Yes, yes, Katie’s a real witch,” they all cried. But Mr Bones just laughed and laughed. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” he said. “Go on, Katie,” said Amelia. “Let’s see if you really are a witch.” And so Katie stepped forwards. “You don’t look scary to me,” said Mr Bones. “You’re just a stupid little girl.” But Katie remembered what her mum had whispered in her ear. Do you know what it was? A special spell. So right then, Katie recited the magic words. And she wriggled her ear. And all the girls gasped in amazement. Because suddenly Mr Bones wasn’t Mr Bones anymore. He was a little brown, fluffy hamster. Inside a cage. Running around and around on a wheel. All the girls laughed and laughed. Katie leaned into the cage. “Is it fun being a hamster?” The little creature squeaked and shook its head. And Katie spun the wheel, so that he had to run faster and faster. And then she recited the magic words and Mr Bones was turned back into a man again. “I’ll get you some treats, girls,” he said very quickly and nervously. And he came back with tons of chocolate bars, fizzy drinks, biscuits, and even a new Barbie DVD for each girl. “Please come back next year girls,” he said. “I’ll have even better stuff for you.” And he went back inside, looking very nervous. And as they went down the rest of the street, everyone had heard that there was a real witch out trick and treating tonight, so they all gave the girls even more sweets and biscuits than usual, and even some toys. And Katie was the most popular girl in her class. “You know, maybe it’s not so bad being a witch after all,” she said when she got home. “And I think I’m going to enjoy Halloween from now on.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn1-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn1-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ee1e245f64c660bf8de7254a21d87bb9807303a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn1-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ + Katie returns in a new tale in which she gets into trouble, big trouble, at school. Katie has twice as much school work to do as all the other kids. She has to learn loads and loads of magic spells, as well as her written spelling, arithmetic, geography, french and history. She finds that it’s ever so tempting just to use a little bit of magic in her ordinary school exams. And that’s when her trouble begins. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 16.15. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. In fact, everyone would have been really, really happy, except for one thing. Before the holidays, they had to do exams. And nobody likes to do exams, unless they are the swottiest of swots. And Katie didn’t think that exams were at all nice. No matter how good you are at magic, you still have to remember things for yourself. And Katie had twice as much to learn as all the other children. She had to do the witch exams as well as the ordinary school exams. She did the witch exams in the evenings – and her mum gave her four and a half stars for her work. But then she had to get ready for the tests at her school. “Mum, it’s not fair” she complained. “I have to learn so many magic spells. And I have to learn all the school lessons too.” “Well just think yourself lucky,” said Mum. “Other children have to tidy their rooms, but you can just say a magic spell and it’s done just like that!” So Katie sat in her room and tried to read her school books. But to tell you the truth, she also looked out of the window and made up fairy tales about herself. Only in the stories, she wasn’t a witch. She was a beautiful princess who could also do magic tricks. When exam week came, the first test was spelling. If it had been magic spelling, Katie would have been alright. But in this test the teacher read out words like “accommodation” and “Mississippi” and other words that are tricky to spell. Katie was really cross. She thought the teacher had chosen the most difficult words just to be mean. That wasn’t fair. So she tried a little magic. She couldn’t say a spell out loud, because everyone would hear. So she just thought the words in her head really hard – and Wow! It worked. Her pen wrote the correct spellings all by itself. Next they had to do maths problems. Katie could do the first few – because they were easy-peasy – but then there was a mean question about a monkey and some bananas. So she thought up another magic spell, and again her pen wrote down the right answer. In history, she had to remember all the names of the gods of ancient Egypt. And in geography she had to remember the capital cities of Europe. And in french she had to remember some really, really tricky words like “le singe est sur la branche “ which means “the monkey is on the branch.” In fact, all the exams had mean questions in them. And in every case, a little magic spell came in handy. In fact, the magic worked so well for Katie that she thought to herself: “Why should I bother learning all these stupid things? I can just say a magic spell and my pen will write the answer.” The week after that, the teacher finished marking all the papers. She told the class that they had all done very well, especially Katie who had scored top marks in every exam. She hadn’t got a single answer wrong. “Wow Katie,”said Julie. “You’re a genius.” The teacher said: “Congratulations Katie. You certainly did very well. Maybe too well. I think that you and I should go and have a little talk with Mrs Hepworth.” And Katie felt just a bit worried. Because Mrs Hepworth is the head mistress. And when you go to have a little talk with Mrs Hepworth, that usually means that you are in trouble. Big trouble! At lunchtime, the teacher took Katie to see Mrs Hepworth. She explained that Katie had got top marks in all her exams and hadn’t got a single question wrong. “You are a very naughty girl,” said Mrs Hepworth. And Katie started to cry. And to cry. And to cry. And the teacher dried her tears with a handkerchief. “There there,” she said. Eventually Katie stopped crying. “Do you know why you are a naughty girl?” asked Mrs Hepworth. Katie said: “You’re just cross with me because I’m a witch and I know how to do magic. That’s really mean of you because I can’t help being a witch. I was born that way.” “Now you are talking nonsense.” said Mrs Hepworth. There are no such things as witches or magic. You are in trouble because you cheated in the exams.” “I did not not NOT!” said Katie. “Just tell us how you did it, and we will let you off – this time,” said the teacher. Katie knew that she was in big trouble. She just wanted to run out of the study and all the way back home to her mum. But she couldn’t do that, so she thought she had better own up. “Well I did do a few magic spells,” she said. “Just little ones.” But they didn’t believe her. “Oh dear. What are we going to do with this problem child?” said the teacher. “Katie.” said Mrs Hepworth. “You are in big, big trouble. You have till the end of term to tell us how you cheated in the exams. If you don’t tell the truth by then, you won’t be coming back to school next term. We don’t have girls who make up stories about witches and magic in this school. Goodness gracious! You’ll be frightening all the other children with these silly stories.” And Katie was very very sad about that, because she was telling the truth about being a witch. And it wasn’t fair. It was the last week of term. And before the holidays, the school always had a special treat. This term, Katie’s class went on a trip to the safari park. It was a big park full of wild animals from places like Africa. There were giraffes, and elephants, and long-legged deer called gazelles. Katie’s class were all safe inside the bus, and they looked out of the window at all the animals. It was ever so cool. Everyone was really excited and happy. Except for Katie. She was sad because she was still in big, big trouble. The best animals were the chimpanzees. They climbed all over the bus. The driver got really cross when they stole his windscreen wipers. Everyone else thought that was ever so funny. And the lions were good too. Even if they were a bit scary. They had lunch in a restaurant on top of a tall rock. The rock was on a big island surrounded by water. And in the water there were crocodiles. And the crocodiles were really scary. Even more scary than the lions. There was boy in Katie’s class called Clive. Clive was always doing silly things. But the teachers didn’t seem to mind. Clive never got into trouble, however silly he was. But then, he didn’t know how to do magic. So that was probably why he always got away with things. In the restaurant, Clive did something very silly indeed. He asked to go to the loo, and on the way back, he went through a door that said: “Staff Only.” And from there he went down a corridor and found a special room. It was the room which they used to feed the crocodiles. It had a window and the keepers threw meat out of it, down into the river. And somebody had left the window open. Clive climbed up to look through the window. Then he saw that if you climbed out of the window, you could get onto the rocks. He thought it would be really cool to walk around the rocks, and look in at the other children eating their lunch. They would get a really big surprise to see him out there. So that’s what he did. Only he slipped on a banana skin left by a monkey. Then, he fell down the rocks and broke his ankle. Fortunately, one of the keepers saw him and sounded the alarm. Everyone in the restaurant rushed to the window to look out, and they saw Clive lying on a rock near the river. A crocodile was waddling slowly towards him. Its face had a sort of smile on it, and its tail was swishing. Everyone screamed. Except for Katie and Wendy. Wendy knew that Katie was a witch because once she had turned her into a toad for a short time. “Katie. Do something. You’re the only one who can save poor Clive. Just say a magic spell. Quick!!!!” Mrs Hepworth heard this. But she was too frightened to tell off either Wendy or Katie. After all, poor Clive was looking into the jaws of a crocodile. Katie thought really hard about what would be the best magic spell to do. And then she decided: “I know. I will make Clive fly.” Fortunately, she knew the spell to make somebody fly, off by heart. She had learned it when she was getting ready for her witch exams. Now she shouted it out at the top of her voice. I can’t tell you what she said, because it’s a secret. But it worked well, because everyone saw Clive rise up in the air, and gently fly back up to the restaurant. Even the crocodile was impressed. Then Katie said another spell to make everyone forget what they had just seen. Except for the crocodile. And Mrs Hepworth. After that, Katie wasn’t in trouble any more. Because Mrs Hepworth now knew that she was telling the truth when she said she was a witch. And Katie was glad that she had worked very hard that term – to learn all her magic spells. And when she got home and told her family what had happened, her mum gave her another half star for passing her witch exams. So now Katie is a five star witch. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn100-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn100-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..5fe072101af588ae7b7cab61a8ecadc41456ebe4 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn100-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This is the classic story of somebody who is a "bit different". We probably all know somebody at school is isn\'t quite accepted by the class. That is exactly what the "Ugly Duckling" in this story has to live with.', "The duckling her isn't cute and yellow like the other baby ducks. Instead, he is tall, gray and awkward. The farmyard ducks don't like him - and he is so upset that he sets out on a journey across the moors all on his own, until, at the wonderful ending he finds his true self.", "This story is a little longer than our usual audio - so sit back and let Hans Christian Andersen's wonderful writing - and Natasha's reading - transport you the countryside. This story has some out-door sound-effects to complete the atmosphere.", 'Read by Natasha. Duration 29. 18 Minutes. It was summer in the land of Denmark, and though for most of the year the country looks flat and ugly, it was beautiful now. The wheat was yellow, the oats were green, the hay was dry and delicious to roll in, and from the old ruined house which nobody lived in, down to the edge of the canal, was a forest of prickly plants called burdocks so tall that a whole family of children might have dwelt in them and never have been found out. It was under these burdocks that a duck had built herself a warm nest, and was not sitting all day on six pretty eggs. Five of them were white, but the sixth, which was larger than the others, was of an ugly grey colour. The duck was always puzzled about that egg, and how it came to be so different from the rest. Other birds might have thought that when the duck went down in the morning and evening to the water to stretch her legs in a good swim, some lazy mother might have been on the lookout , and have popped her egg into the nest. But ducks are not clever at all, and are not quick at counting, so this duck did not worry herself about the matter, but just took care that the big egg should be as warm as the rest.', "This was the first set of eggs that the duck had ever laid, and, to begin with, she was very pleased and proud, and laughed at the other mothers, who were always neglecting their duties to gossip with each other or to take little extra swims besides the two in the morning and evening that were necessary for health. But at length she grew tired of sitting there all day. ‘My eggs are taking too long to hatch,' she said to herself; and she pined for a little amusement also.", 'Still, she knew that if she left her eggs and the ducklings in them to die, none of her friends would ever speak to her again; so there she stayed, only getting off the eggs several times a day to see if the shells were cracking--which may have been the very reason why they did not crack sooner. She had looked at the eggs at least a hundred and fifty times, when, to her joy, she saw a tiny crack on two of them, and scrambling back to the nest she drew the eggs closer the one to the other, and never moved for the whole of that day. Next morning she was rewarded by noticing cracks in the whole five eggs, and by midday two little yellow heads were poking out from the shells. This encouraged her so much that, after breaking the shells with her bill, so that the little creatures could get free of them, she sat steadily for a whole night upon the nest, and before the sun arose the five white eggs were empty, and ten pairs of eyes were gazing out upon the green world. Now the duck had been carefully brought up, and did not like dirt, and, besides, broken shells are not at all comfortable things to sit or walk upon; so she pushed the rest out over the side, and felt delighted to have some company to talk to till the big egg hatched. But day after day went on, and the big egg showed no signs of cracking, and the duck grew more and more impatient, and began to wish she could ask the advice of her husband, but he was never around when she needed him.', "'I can't think what is the matter with it,' the duck grumbled to her neighbour who had called in to pay her a visit. 'Why I could have hatched two broods in the time that this one has taken!'", "'Let me look at it,' said the old neighbour. 'Ah, I thought so; it is a turkey's egg. Once, when I was young, they tricked me to sitting on a brood of turkey's eggs myself, and when they were hatched the creatures were so stupid that nothing would make them learn to swim. I have no patience when I think of it.'", 'All through the next day she sat on, giving up even her morning bath for fear that a blast of cold might strike the big egg. In the evening, when she ventured to peep, she thought she saw a tiny crack in the upper part of the shell. Filled with hope, she went back to her duties, though she could hardly sleep all night for excitement. When she woke with the first steaks of light she felt something stirring under her. Yes, there it was at last; and as she moved, a big awkward bird tumbled head foremost on the ground.', "There was no denying it was ugly, even the mother was forced to admit that to herself, though she only said it was 'large' and 'strong.'", "'You won't need any teaching when you are once in the water,' she told him, with a glance of surprise at the dull brown which covered his back, and at his long naked neck. And indeed he did not, though he was not half so pretty to look at as the little yellow balls that followed her.", "When they returned they found the old neighbour on the bank waiting for them to take them into the duckyard. 'No, it is not a young turkey, certainly,' whispered she in confidence to the mother, 'for though it is lean and skinny, and has no colour to speak of, yet there is something rather distinguished about it, and it holds its head up well.'", "'It is very kind of you to say so,' answered the mother, who by this time had some secret doubts of its loveliness. 'Of course, when you see it by itself it is all right, though it is different, somehow, from the others. But one cannot expect all one's children to be beautiful!'", 'By this time they had reached the centre of the yard, where a very old duck was sitting, who was treated with great respect by all the birds who lived on the water.', "'You must go up and bow low before her,' whispered the mother to her children, nodding her head in the direction of the old lady, 'and keep your legs well apart, as you see me do. No well-bred duckling turns in its toes. It is a sign of common parents.'", 'The little ducks tried hard to make their small fat bodies copy the movements of their mother, and the old lady was quite pleased with them; but the rest of the ducks looked on feeling annoyed, and one duck in particular said:', "'Oh, dear me, here are ever so many more little ducks! The yard is full already; and did you ever see anything quite as ugly as that great tall creature? He is a disgrace to any brood. I shall go and chase him out!' So saying she put up her feathers, and running to the big duckling bit his neck.", 'The duckling gave a loud quack; it was the first time he had felt any pain, and at the sound his mother turned quickly.', "'Leave him alone,' she said fiercely, 'or I will send for his father. He was not bother you.'", "'No; but he is so ugly and awkward no one can put up with him,' answered the stranger. And though the duckling did not understand the meaning of the words, he felt he was being blamed, and became more uncomfortable still when the old Spanish duck who ruled the yard butted in:", "'It certainly is a great pity he is so different from these beautiful darlings. If he could only be hatched over again!'", 'The poor little fellow drooped his head, and did not know where to look, but was comforted when his mother answered:', "'He may not be quite as handsome as the others, but he swims better, and is very strong; I am sure he will make his way in the world as well as anybody.'", "'Well, you must feel quite at home here,' said the old duck waddling off. And so they did, all except the duckling, who was snapped at by everyone when they thought his mother was not looking. Even the turkey-cockerel, who was so big, never passed him without mocking words, and his brothers and sisters, who would not have noticed any difference unless it had been put into their heads, soon became as rude and unkind as the rest.", 'At last he could bear it no longer, and one day he fancied he saw signs of his mother turning against him too; so that night, when the ducks and hens were still asleep, he stole away through an open door, and under cover of the burdock leaves scrambled on by the bank of the canal, till he reached a wide grassy moor, full of soft marshy places where the reeds grew. Here he lay down, but he was too tired and too frightened to fall asleep, and with the earliest peep of the sun the reeds began to rustle, and he saw that he had blundered into a colony of wild ducks. But as he could not run away again he stood up and bowed politely.', "'You are ugly,' said the wild ducks, when they had looked him well over; 'but, however, it is no business of ours, unless you wish to marry one of our daughters, and that we should not allow.' And the duckling answered that he had no idea of marrying anybody, and wanted nothing but to be left alone after his long journey.", 'So for two whole days he lay quietly among the reeds, eating such food as he could find, and drinking the water of the moorland pool, till he felt himself quite strong again. He wished he might stay were he was for ever, he was so comfortable and happy, away from everyone, with nobody to bite him and tell him how ugly he was. He was thinking these thoughts, when two young geese caught sight of him as they were having their evening splash among the reeds, looking for their supper.', "'We are getting tired of this moor,' they said, 'and to-morrow we think of trying another, where the lakes are larger and the feeding better. Will you come with us?'", "'Is it nicer than this?' asked the duckling doubtfully. And the words were hardly out of his mouth, when 'Pif! pah!' and the two new- comers were stretched dead beside him.", 'At the sound of the gun the wild ducks in the rushes flew into the air, and for a few minutes the firing continued as the huntsmen aimed at the flying birds. Luckily for himself the duckling could not fly, and he floundered along through the water till he could hide himself amidst some tall ferns which grew in a hollow. But before he got there he met a huge creature on four legs, which soon realized was dog, who stood and gazed at him with a long red tongue hanging out of his mouth. The duckling grew cold with terror, and tried to hide his head beneath his little wings; but the dog snuffed at him and passed on, and he was able to reach into his hiding place.', "'I am too ugly even for a dog to eat,' said he to himself. 'Well, that is a great mercy.' And he curled himself up in the soft grass till the shots died away in the distance.", 'When all had been quiet for a long time, and there were only stars to see him, he crept out and looked about him. He would never go near a pool again, never, thought he; and seeing that the moor stretched far away in the opposite direction from which he had come, he marched bravely on till he got to a small cottage, which seemed too tumbledown for the stones to hold together many hours longer. Even the door only hung upon one hinge, and as the only light in the room sprang from a tiny fire, the duckling edged himself cautiously in, and lay down under a chair close to the broken door, from which he could get out if necessary. But no one seemed to see him or smell him; so he spend the rest of the night in peace. Now in the cottage there lived an old woman, her cat, and a hen; and it was really they, and not she, who were masters of the house. The old woman, who passed all her days in spinning yarn, which she sold at the nearest town, loved both the cat and the hen as her own children, and never did anything they didn’t want in any way; so it was them, not her, that the duckling had to ask for a favour. It was only next morning, when it grew light, that they noticed their visitor, who stood trembling before them, with his eye on the door ready to escape at any moment. They did not, however, appear very fierce, and the duckling became less afraid as they approached him.', "'Can you lay eggs?' asked the hen. And the duckling answered meekly:", "'No; I don't know how.' Upon which the hen turned her back, and the cat came forward.", "'Can you ruffle your fur when you are angry, or purr when you are pleased?' said she. And again the duckling had to admit that he could do nothing but swim, which did not seem of much use to anybody.", 'So the cat and the hen went straight off to the old woman, who was still in bed.', "'Such a useless creature has taken refuge here,' they said. 'It calls itself a duckling; but it can neither lay eggs nor purr! What had we better do with it?'", "'Keep it, to be sure!' replied the old woman briskly. 'It is all nonsense about it not laying eggs. Anyway, we will let it stay here for a bit, and see what happens.'", 'So the duckling remained for three weeks, and shared the food of the cat and the hen; but nothing in the way of eggs happened at all. Then the sun came out, and the air grew soft, and the duckling grew tired of being in a hut, and wanted with all his might to have a swim. And one morning he got so restless that even his friends noticed it.', "'What is the matter?' asked the hen; and the duckling told her.", "'I am so longing for the water again. You can't think how delicious it is to put your head under the water and dive straight to the bottom.'", "'I don't think I should enjoy it,' replied the hen doubtfully. 'And I don't think the cat would like it either.' And the cat, when asked, agreed there was nothing she would hate so much.", "'I can't stay here any longer, I Must get to the water,' repeated the duck. And the cat and the hen, who felt hurt and offended, answered shortly:", "'Very well then, go.'", 'The duckling would have liked to say good- bye, and thank them for their kindness, as he was polite by nature; but they had both turned their backs on him, so he went out of the rickety door feeling rather sad. But, in spite of himself, he could not help a thrill of joy when he was out in the air and water once more, and cared little for the rude glances of the creatures he met. For a while he was quite happy and content; but soon the winter came on, and snow began to fall, and everything to grow very wet and uncomfortable. And the duckling soon found that it is one thing to enjoy being in the water, and quite another to like being damp on land.', "The sun was setting one day, like a great scarlet globe, and the river, to the duckling's vast bewilderment, was getting hard and slippery, when he heard a sound of whirring wings, and high up in the air a flock of swans were flying. They were as white as snow which had fallen during the night, and their long necks with yellow bills were stretched to a land where the sun shone all day. Oh, if he only could have gone with them! But that was not possible, of course; and besides, what sort of companion could an ugly thing like him be to those beautiful beings? So he walked sadly down to a sheltered pool and dived to the very bottom, and tried to think it was the greatest happiness he could dream of. But, all the same, he knew it wasn't!", 'And every morning it grew colder and colder, and the duckling had hard work to keep himself warm. Indeed, it would be truer to say that he never was warm at all; and at last, after one bitter night, his legs moved so slowly that the ice crept closer and closer, and when the morning light broke he was caught fast, as in a trap; and soon his senses went from him.', "He never could tell afterwards exactly how he had spent the rest of the winter. He only knew that he was very miserable and that he never had enough to eat. But by-and-by things grew better. The earth became softer, the sun hotter, the birds sang, and the flowers once more appeared in the grass. When he stood up, he felt different, somehow, from what he had done before he fell asleep among the reeds to which he had wandered after he had escaped from the peasant's hut. His body seemed larger, and his wings stronger. Something pink looked at him from the side of a hill. He thought he would fly towards it and see what it was.", "'I will follow them,' said the duckling to himself; 'ugly though I am, I would rather be killed by them than suffer all I have suffered from cold and hunger, and from the ducks and fowls who should have treated me kindly.' And flying quickly down to the water, he swam after them as fast as he could.", "'If I am to die, I would rather you should kill me. I don't know why I was ever hatched, for I am too ugly to live.' And as he spoke, he bowed his head and looked down into the water.", "'The new one is the best of all,' said the children when they came down to feed the swans with biscuit and cake before going to bed. 'His feathers are whiter and his beak more golden than the rest.' And when he heard that, the duckling thought that it was worth while having undergone all the persecution and loneliness that he had passed through, as otherwise he would never have known what it was to be really happy. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn101-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn101-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2ce5f61024c34bf1ae4ea9b182a2c6424a6b51ae --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn101-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +All the courtiers say that the clothes are quite magnificent, and the Emperor plans to wear his new suit for the procession through the centre of the city.', "The moral of this story rings so very true! What we are doing is totally absurd, but we can't stop because everybody else seems to believe that it's the right thing to do. Yet they can probably see it's just as ridiculous as we can. ", "The little boy who literally sees through the Emperor's New Clothes only appears for a moment, and yet he is one of the greatest heroes of all fairy tales - for he speaks the truth that nobody else dares to speak. ", 'Many years ago, there was an emperor, who was so excessively fond of new clothes, that he spent all his money on the finest suits. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers; nor did he care to go to the theatre or out hunting, except when there was a chance to show off his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day. Just as you might say of any other king or emperor, “He is sitting in his council,” people used to say of him, “He is sitting in his wardrobe.” Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital; strangers arrived every day at the court. One day, two rogues, calling themselves weavers, came to the court. They said that they knew how to weave clothes of the most beautiful colours and elaborate patterns. The clothes made from their cloths were like no others, for they were invisible to everyone who was either unfit for their job, or extremely simple in the head. “These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!” Thought the emperor. “Had I such a suit, I might at once find out what men in my empire are unfit for their jobs, and also be able to tell the wise from the foolish! This stuff must be woven for me immediately.” He ordered large sums of money to be given to both the weavers so that they might begin their work. So the two false weavers set up two looms, and pretended to work very busily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest gold thread; put both into their own knapsacks, and then continued their pretend work at the empty looms until late at night. “I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth,” said the emperor to himself, after some little time had gone by. He was, however, rather embarrassed, when he remembered that a simpleton, or someone unfit for his office, would be unable to see the results of their work. To be sure, he himself would not have any trouble seeing the clothes, but yet, thought it would be better to send somebody else to report on the weavers and their work. All the people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful cloth; and all were anxious to earn how wise, or how ignorant, their neighbours might prove to be. “I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers,” said the emperor at last, after some thought “he will be best able to see how the cloth looks; for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable for his office than he is.” So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were working with all their might, at their empty looms. “What can be the meaning of this?” Thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. “I cannot see the least bit of thread on the looms.” However, he did not speak his thoughts aloud. The tricksters asked him very politely to be so good as to come nearer their looms; and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether the colours were not very beautiful - at the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked, he could not see anything on the looms, for a very good reason: There was nothing there. “What!” Thought he again. “Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself; and no one must know it now if I am so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my office? No, that must not be said either. I will never confess that I could not see the stuff.” “Well, Sir Minister!” said one of the knaves, still pretending to work. “You do not say whether the stuff pleases you.” “Oh, it is excellent!” Replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his spectacles. “This pattern, and the colours, yes, I will tell the emperor without delay. How very beautiful I think them.” “We shall be much obliged to you,” said the impostors, and then they named the different colours and described the pattern of the pretend stuff. The old minister listened attentively to their words, in order that he might repeat them to the emperor; and then the knaves asked for more silk and gold, saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all that was given them into their knapsacks and continued to work with as much pretend effort as before at their empty looms. The emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on, and to find out whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with this gentleman as with the minister; he looked at the looms on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the empty frames. “Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the minister?” Asked the impostors of the emperor’s second ambassador; at the same time making the same gestures as before, and talking of the design and colours which were not there. “I certainly am not stupid!” Thought the messenger. “It must be, that I am not fit for my good, well-paid job! That is very odd; however, no one shall know anything about it.” Therefore he praised the stuff he could not see, and declared that he was delighted with both colours and patterns. “Indeed, please your Imperial Majesty,” said he to the emperor when he returned, “the cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent.” The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the emperor had ordered to be woven at his own expense. Now the emperor for himself wished to see the costly manufacture, while it was still in the loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of the court, among whom were the two honest men who had already admired the cloth, he went to the crafty impostors, who, as soon as they knew the emperor was on his way, went on working more hard than ever; although they still did not pass a single thread through the looms. “Is not the work absolutely magnificent?” Said the two officers of the crown, who already who had been before. “If Your Majesty will only be pleased to look at it! What a splendid design! What glorious colours!” At the same time they pointed to the empty frames; for they imagined that everyone else could see this exquisite piece of workmanship. “How is this?” Said the emperor to himself. “I can see nothing! This is indeed a terrible affair! Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be an emperor? That would be the worst thing that could happen” - ”Oh! The cloth is charming,” said he, aloud. “It has my complete approval.” He smiled most graciously, and looked closely at the empty looms; for on no account would he say that he could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained their eyes, hoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more than the others; nevertheless, they all exclaimed, “Oh, how beautiful!” And advised his majesty to have some new clothes made from this splendid material, for the public procession which was due to take place soon. “Magnificent! Charming! Excellent!” Everyone said on all sides; and everyone was uncommonly cheerful. The emperor shared in the general satisfaction; and presented the impostors with the riband of an order of knighthood, to be worn in their buttonholes, and the title of “Gentlemen Weavers.” The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to take place, and had sixteen lights burning so that everyone might see how anxious they were to finish the emperor’s new suit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms; cut the air with their scissors, and sewed with needles without any thread in them. “See!” Cried they, at last. “The emperor’s new clothes are ready!” Now the emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the weavers; and the rogues raised their arms, as if holding something up, saying, “Here are Your Majesty’s trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the cloak! The whole suit is as light as a cobweb; one might fancy one has nothing at all on, when one is dressed in it. That, however, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth.” “Yes indeed!” Said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see anything of this exquisite manufacture. “If Your Imperial Majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit on the new suit, in front of the looking glass.” The emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to array him in his new suit; the emperor turning round, from side to side, looking in the glass. “How splendid His Majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit!” Everyone cried out. “What a design! What colours! These are indeed royal robes!” “The canopy which is to be carried over Your Majesty, in the procession, is waiting,” announced the chief master of the ceremonies. “I am quite ready,” answered the emperor. “Do my new clothes fit well?” Asked he, turning himself round again before the looking glass, in order that he might appear to be examining his handsome suit. The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry His Majesty’s train felt about on the ground, as if they were lifting up the ends of the robes, and pretended to be carrying something; for they would by no means let anyone see that they were simple or unfit for their jobs. So now the emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital. All the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, “Oh! How beautiful are our emperor’s clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the robes and how gracefully the scarf hangs!” In short, no one would allow that he could not see these much admired clothes - because, in doing so, he would have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his job. Certainly, none of the emperor’s various suits had ever made so great an impression as these invisible ones. “But the emperor has nothing at all on!” Said a little child. “Listen to the voice of innocence!” Exclaimed his father; and what the child had said was whispered from one to another. “But he has nothing at all on!” At last cried out all the people. The emperor was suddenly embarrassed, for he knew that the people were right; but he thought the procession must go on now! And the lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up the robes although, in reality, there were no robes at all. And that’s the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Andersen. Bertie says that in real life, people are often more silly in a crowd than they are on their own. If you think that everybody else believes something, then it must be true – and you have to be very brave to be like the little boy in the story and stand up and say what can see with your own eyes. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn104-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn104-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7db46c14065169be5f69549d9fe0ff3d3d2d1acd --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn104-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Sea Witch helps The Little Mermaid become human so that she can visit her prince - but she extracts a terrible price. The Little Mermaid must give up her lovely voice. If the Prince marries another, she will die. But she loves him so much that she is ready to make the sacrifice. The ending is NOT the "Disney" version, and by the end perhaps you will agree that it is not always wise to give up everything for love. Although it might make you cry (be warned) it is still one of the most beautiful fairy tales ever written. "I know what you want," said the sea witch; "it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish\'s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul." And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay there wriggling about. "You are but just in time," said the witch; "for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you." "Yes, I will," said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul. "But think again," said the witch; "for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father\'s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves." "I will do it," said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death. "But I must be paid also," said the witch, "and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword." "But if you take away my voice," said the little mermaid, "what is left for me?" "Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man\'s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught." "It shall be," said the little mermaid. Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draught. "Cleanliness is a good thing," said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready, it looked like the clearest water. "There it is for you," said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid\'s tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. "If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood," said the witch, "throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces." But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.', " So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father's palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace, and approached the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea, she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her fish's tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the prince's side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak nor sing.", ' Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, "Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with him." The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling; and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.', " The prince said she should remain with him always, and she received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page's dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While at the prince's palace, and when all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.", ' Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they did not venture so near the land as her sisters did. As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea. "Do you not love me the best of them all?" the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed her fair forehead. "Yes, you are dear to me," said the prince; "for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part." "Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life," thought the little mermaid. "I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me;" and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not shed tears. "He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake."', " Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the prince's thoughts better than any of the others.", ' "I must travel," he had said to her; "I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes." And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. "You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child," said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.', " In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her father's castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.", ' The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets, lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival; balls and entertainments followed one another. But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful, was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity. "It was you," said the prince, "who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach," and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. "Oh, I am too happy," said he to the little mermaid; "my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere."', " The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride's train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself; but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had been cut off.", ' "We have given our hair to the witch," said they, "to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish\'s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch\'s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die." And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the waves. The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince\'s breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. "Where am I?" asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it. "Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul." The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun, and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether. "After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven," said she. "And we may even get there sooner," whispered one of her companions. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn168-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn168-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6ef8e7ccb948dca97ee9dab1b2948dda0c426bf8 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn168-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Mary might not be the most soft-hearted of girls, but she is a good person to sooth a tantrum. Read by Natasha. A TANTRUM "I can\'t stop!" he gasped and sobbed. "I can\'t--I can\'t!" "Nurse," she commanded, "come here and show me his back this minute!" "Perhaps he--he won\'t let me," she hesitated in a low voice. Colin heard her, however, and he gasped out between two sobs: "Sh-show her! She-she\'ll see then!" "C-could you?" he said pathetically. "Yes, sir." "There!" said Mary, and she gulped too. "Do you think--I could--live to grow up?" he said. "Very well," answered Mary. "Yes," answered Mary. "Shut your eyes." And Colin was asleep. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn169-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn169-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b2893ba451ce7d89aae8bd8ae92a012c18ae946e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn169-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Storynory's one and only Natasha.", '"IT HAS COME!" "Fresh air won\'t tire me," said the young Rajah. "I thought you did not like fresh air," he said. "And the nurse, of course?" suggested Dr. Craven. "Did Dickon teach you that?" asked Dr. Craven, laughing outright. "Well, sir," she ventured, "could you have believed it?" Mrs. Medlock smiled. She was fond of Susan Sowerby. "She\'s a shrewd woman," said Dr. Craven, putting on his coat. Mary was at his bedside again. "Are you sure you are not chilly, Master Colin?" she inquired. "Yes, sir," she answered. "I hope the animals won\'t bite, Master Colin," said the nurse. "Goodness!" shuddered the nurse. He was not long in coming. In about ten minutes Mary held up her hand. "Listen!" she said. "Did you hear a caw?" "Yes," he answered. "Oh, yes!" cried Colin, quite flushing. "That\'s the new-born lamb," said Mary. "He\'s coming." "What is it doing?" cried Colin. "What does it want?" He knelt down by the sofa and took a feeding-bottle from his pocket. "I\'m going to see them," cried Colin. "I am going to see them!" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn17-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn17-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b13ad11572a4ad1050948ccaa5a66df59fd9a530 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn17-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Pondlife agree that Princess Beatrice is the sweetest princess who ever lived in the entire history of the universe (Only Colin the Grumpy Carp disputes this fact). She is so kind to children and fluffy bunny rabbits that she makes her wicked stepmother feel quite sick just thinking about her. But did you know, that when Beatrice was just a teenage princess in training, she entered a sweetest princess competition? Up until now, the inside story has been kept secret, but Sadie the Swan has persuaded Bertie to reveal all.', "The other day, I was just sitting in the orchard watching the wind blow through the trees, when I caught sight of the lovely Princess Beatrice. She had come down to the palace to feed bread to the greedy little ducklings who live in the pond. (quack) Sadie, the beautiful black swan didn't join in the unseemly rush for soggy food. Instead, she sat elegantly on the water, watching Princess Beatrice. Everyone who lives on the pond knows that there is no greater admirer of royalty than Sadie the Swan.", '"Oh my!" She sighed. "Isn\'t Princess Beatricejust the sweetest creature who ever lived?" Now apart from me, the only person to hear Sadie say this, was Colin the grumpy carp, and he lost no time in answering her question. "Rubbish," he said, sticking his not too pretty face out of the water. "That Beatrice is just putting on a show. She only pretends to be sweet to fool the masses and the dumb pond life." Now there are times when Sadie would have turned and hissed at Colin so fiercely that he would have dived straight for the bottom of the pond, but she had to keep up appearances in the presence of somebody as lovely and royal as Princess Beatrice, and so she held her elegant neck aloft and ignored him, until Bertie the frog came hopping along from lily pad to lily pad. As you most probably know, before he was a frog, Bertie used to be a handsome prince, and was engaged to be married to Princess Beatrice. Bertie is therefore considered to be something of an expert on all matters royal. "Bertie," said Sadie, "Tell this ignorant fish that Princess Beatrice is the loveliest and sweetest princess in the entire universe." "Well of course," boomed Bertie. "Everybody knows that." "How do they know? Grumped Colin. "She\'s most probably just pretending to be sweet, because her Public Relations manager told to act that way. In my view, this royal thing is all just a sham. Royalty are no better thanthe rest of us. No better than the silliest tadpoles in the pond." "I know because she told me," answered Bertie. "And besides, I heard all about the Sweetest Princess Contest she took part in when she was just a teenage trainee princess." "Oh, do tell us about it Bertie," said Sadie. "Well," he hesitated, "The inside story is supposed to be a secret." Sadie huffed, "Dear frog. There are no secrets on this pond." "What about your age?" Grumped Colin the Carp, a question which Sadie ignored. So Bertie started to tell the story of the Sweetest Princess. I pricked up my ears, because I thought it might be very interesting.', "Some years ago, when Princess Beatrice was still just a teenager, she lived in the palace with her father, the king, who was nice but very busy in the office, what with being king and everything, and also with her stepmother, who wasn't so nice.", 'Princess Beatrice was the sweetest little princess who ever lived. She spent her entire day combing her collection of pink and white fluffy bunnies, and raising money to help look after small animals. Now, one day Beatrice\'s stepmother read in the newspaper that a television company was organising a competition called "Who is the Sweetest Princess?"', "The prize was to be a free holiday on the most luxurious ten star beach resort in the entire world. Beatrice's stepmother really, really wanted to go on that holiday.", 'The stepmother said to herself, "Beatrice is so sweet that she makes my back tooth ache just looking at her. Every time she smiles with those dimply little cheeks, I want to throw up. She couldn\'t fail to win that competition." And so turning to young Beatrice she said, "Beatrice,enter that competition right away, and make sure you don\'t lose." Beatrice, who was not at all sure that she wanted to appear on television, especially as she thought the king would say that the programme was rather cheap and nasty, and not at all royal, said, "Dearest stepmother. Please excuse me. I would rather not." The stepmother who was secretly furious, put on her sweetest smile, which actually wasn\'t very sweet at all, and said to Beatrice, "Please please, Beatrice. Pretty Please, with pink bows, and fluffy knots on it." Beatrice was rather surprised to hear her stepmother speak to her so nicely, as it wasn\'t her usual way at all, and she and looked up from the pair of pink earmuffs that she was knitting for her favourite bunny. "Well, maybe." The stepmother smiled again, so that Beatrice could see her gold-capped teeth, and she said, "Ohgo on Beatrice, please please, pretty please, with pink bows, and fluffy knots, and strawberries and cream on it." "Oh well, alright then," said Beatrice, still not quite sure that it was a good idea. The stepmother was very pleased with this result, and said to herself, "And when she wins the holiday, as she most certainly will, I will put a spell on Beatrice so she gets a tummy ache and has to stay behind. It will be just wonderful to get away fromthe horrid children for a whole month." But as the day of the contest drew nearer, the stepmother began to have doubts. She saw a picture of the two other contestants, Princess Daisy and Princess Theodora, and if anything they looked even more curly, dimply and revoltingly sweet than Beatrice. "Now listen," she said to Beatrice, as the maid combed her long golden hair, "Just remember one thing. If in doubt, cheat. Here\'s a mobile phone. If you need anything, just send me a text and I\'ll put a spell on those other two nasty little princesses and make them come out in pulsating warts." "Oh no, dear stepmother," replied Beatrice. "I couldn\'t take a mobile phone with me. It\'s against the rules of the competition." "Hopeless, just hopeless," said the wicked stepmother under her breath.', "The idea of the competition was that three princesses would be placed inside a huge palace - and the audience at home would decide which of them was the sweetest, kindest princess in the whole wide world. Except it wasn't really a palace at all - more like a lot of cardboard painted pink.", "Inside the cardboard palace, there were bright lights and remote TV cameras that followed the three contestants' every move. It was very strange, and Beatrice didn't feel comfortable. She was a bit afraid. She'd never been on television before, and when she thought hard about it, she really wasn't so sure she was the sweetest princess after all. Fortunately, she had brought her softest, cuddliest toy with her to cheer herself up.", 'She waved faintly at the camera that had a little red light shining on it and said, "Hello everybody. My only wish is that the sweetest princess should win fair and square." "Thank you dearest Beatrice," said Princess Daisy, who had two great red ribbons in her hair, "It is very gracious of you to wish me luck."', "Neither Daisy or Theodora seemed very friendly, and Beatrice wasn't sure they were sweet at all, but she didn't like to say anything. Before the first test, they were given juice and biscuits, but when the camera wasn't looking Theodora poured salt into Beatrice's juice, so that when she took a sip she spluttered and grimaced most unsweetly.", '"Oh dear dear dear, dearest Beatrice, let me pat you gently on the back," said Theodora, smiling sweetly to the camera. Back home in the real palace, the wicked queen was watching all this on television, and cursing the sweet stupidity of her stepdaughter. Now the competition began for real. The first task was to find a small animal to help. The three princesses stood at the beginning of the garden path. "Nobody is sweeter than me," wailed Daisy. "Not, not, not…" "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, no one is as sweet, as sweet as me," cried Theodora. Daisy ran down the path - and came back with a floppy little bunny rabbit, and started feeding it scraps of lettuce. Theodora ran down to the pond, and came back with a yellow fluffy duckling - and fed it little pieces of freshly baked French bread.', "When Beatrice went out to the garden she couldn't find any animals to help - and she came back with nothing at all.", 'Back home, in the living room of the palace, the stepmother screeched, "Curses! Drat! "My magic won\'t work with all those bright lights and electric cables around the place, or I would soon turn those two little princesses into slithering worms or slimy snails." On the second day, the princesses had to raise some money for charity. Daisy went out to the street and set up a collection point - and by the end of the day had raised loads of money. Theodora set up a donation hotline - and by the end of the day had raised even more.', "But Beatrice couldn't find anyone to raise money from - and so at the end of the day she had nothing.", '"You\'re just useless, useless, useless," cried Daisy. "You\'re not sweet, you\'re sour," laughed Theodora.', "And they both went away giggling. Beatrice lay awake half the night. She didn't mind about the stupid competition, but she was worried about leaving the real animal rescue home that she kept at the palace. She just wished that the Television Director would throw her out of the competition early so that she could go back home.", 'Then, on the third and final day of the contest, the princesses had to open a very important building. Daisy was whisked away in a carriage to open a new hospital - and then toured the building, talking very sweetly to the sick children. Theodora was whisked off in a big car to open a new school - and spent the day very sweetly helping all the little children with their homework.', "But Beatrice couldn't find anything to open except for a new rubbish dump, and she wasn't sure that was going to look very good at all.", 'Still, she started walking towards the dump, even though it was a bit smelly. But just as she was approaching, she heard a tiny squeaking sound. She looked down and there was a small rat. And she could see that he had broken his foot. "Oh dear," said Beatrice, picking up the rat. "You\'re in terrible pain. I\'d better take you back and get that fixed." "But you\'re supposed to open the rubbish dump," said the rat. "I can\'t just leave you." So she took the rat back to the palace, and bandagedhis leg, and gave it a piece of cheese to make him feel better. When Theodora and Daisy came back they looked at the rat, and screamed. "Get that horrid horrid creature out of here," shouted Daisy. "But he\'s hurt," said Beatrice. "I don\'t care," interrupted Theodora, stamping her foot. "I don\'t, I don\'t, I don\'t…" Just then, the the presenter of the television show came running into the palace clutching a microphone. "You can relax Your Royal Highness\'s. It\'s all over. The viewers at home have voted and chosen the sweetest princess." "I\'m the sweetest," said Daisy. "No, no, I\'m the sweetest," said Theodora.', "Beatrice just remained silent, because it seemed to her she hadn't done very well in the competition at all.", 'The TV presenter looked at Theodora and she said, "Our secret camera filmed how you arranged for that animal to be placed in the garden, just so you would look good in the competition." And she looked at Daisy, and said, "And all the viewers saw how you arranged for lots of people to donate to your charity, just so you would look good in the competition." Then she looked at Beatrice, and said, "The only person here who has done a kind, unselfish thing, and thought of others before themselves is you. The entire world loves you. Who could help but love such a sweet princess? You are the winner, Beatrice." She was so happy, she even gave the rat a hug. She looked across at Daisy and Theodora, and even though she knew it was a bit naughty, and not very sweet at all, stuck out her tongue and said, "Nah, nah, na-na-nah." And do you know what? Even the wicked stepmother cheered and thought, just for a moment, what a clever daughter she had. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn190-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn190-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..864909dfe120f62f0e90076a754967433634ec43 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn190-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +A frantic and desperate chase ensues when Pinocchio is accosted by two robbers - The Assassins - on the road at night. "Dear, oh, dear! When I come to think of it," said the Marionette to himself, as he once more set out on his journey, "we boys are really very unlucky. Everybody scolds us, everybody gives us advice, everybody warns us. If we were to allow it, everyone would try to be father and mother to us; everyone, even the Talking Cricket. Take me, for example. Just because I would not listen to that bothersome Cricket, who knows how many misfortunes may be awaiting me! Assassins indeed! At least I have never believed in them, nor ever will. To speak sensibly, I think assassins have been invented by fathers and mothers to frighten children who want to run away at night. And then, even if I were to meet them on the road, what matter? I\'ll just run up to them, and say, \'Well, signori, what do you want? Remember that you can\'t fool with me! Run along and mind your business.\' At such a speech, I can almost see those poor fellows running like the wind. But in case they don\'t run away, I can always run myself. . ." Pinocchio was not given time to argue any longer, for he thought he heard a slight rustle among the leaves behind him. He turned to look and behold, there in the darkness stood two big black shadows, wrapped from head to foot in black sacks. The two figures leaped toward him as softly as if they were ghosts. "Here they come!" Pinocchio said to himself, and, not knowing where to hide the gold pieces, he stuck all four of them under his tongue. He tried to run away, but hardly had he taken a step, when he felt his arms grasped and heard two horrible, deep voices say to him: "Your money or your life!" On account of the gold pieces in his mouth, Pinocchio could not say a word, so he tried with head and hands and body to show, as best he could, that he was only a poor Marionette without a penny in his pocket. "Come, come, less nonsense, and out with your money!" cried the two thieves in threatening voices. Once more, Pinocchio\'s head and hands said, "I haven\'t a penny." "Out with that money or you\'re a dead man," said the taller of the two Assassins. "Dead man," repeated the other. "And after having killed you, we will kill your father also." "Your father also!" "No, no, no, not my Father!" cried Pinocchio, wild with terror; but as he screamed, the gold pieces tinkled together in his mouth. "Ah, you rascal! So that\'s the game! You have the money hidden under your tongue. Out with it!" But Pinocchio was as stubborn as ever. "Are you deaf? Wait, young man, we\'ll get it from you in a twinkling!" One of them grabbed the Marionette by the nose and the other by the chin, and they pulled him unmercifully from side to side in order to make him open his mouth.', "All was of no use. The Marionette's lips might have been nailed together. They would not open.", "In desperation the smaller of the two Assassins pulled out a long knife from his pocket, and tried to pry Pinocchio's mouth open with it.", "Quick as a flash, the Marionette sank his teeth deep into the Assassin's hand, bit it off and spat it out. Fancy his surprise when he saw that it was not a hand, but a cat's paw.", 'Encouraged by this first victory, he freed himself from the claws of his assailers and, leaping over the bushes along the road, ran swiftly across the fields. His pursuers were after him at once, like two dogs chasing a hare. After running seven miles or so, Pinocchio was well-nigh exhausted. Seeing himself lost, he climbed up a giant pine tree and sat there to see what he could see. The Assassins tried to climb also, but they slipped and fell. Far from giving up the chase, this only spurred them on. They gathered a bundle of wood, piled it up at the foot of the pine, and set fire to it. In a twinkling the tree began to sputter and burn like a candle blown by the wind. Pinocchio saw the flames climb higher and higher. Not wishing to end his days as a roasted Marionette, he jumped quickly to the ground and off he went, the Assassins close to him, as before. Dawn was breaking when, without any warning whatsoever, Pinocchio found his path barred by a deep pool full of water the color of muddy coffee. What was there to do? With a "One, two, three!" he jumped clear across it. The Assassins jumped also, but not having measured their distance well--splash!!!--they fell right into the middle of the pool. Pinocchio who heard the splash and felt it, too, cried out, laughing, but never stopping in his race: "A pleasant bath to you, signori!" He thought they must surely be drowned and turned his head to see. But there were the two somber figures still following him, though their black sacks were drenched and dripping with water. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn196-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn196-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..e52ab9cc2531105481ee8fbdfaa36b14d7a9ce47 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn196-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Hurray! Pinocchio is free. But oh no, he's NOT free again. His fortunes change SO quickly. In this episode, he meets a serpent blocking the road - is the creature dead or alive? Pinocchio is in for a shock. ", ' Catch up with earlier chapters here. Freed from prison, Pinocchio sets out to return to the Fairy; but on the way he meets a Serpent and later is caught in a trap. Fancy the happiness of Pinocchio on finding himself free! Without saying yes or no, he fled from the city and set out on the road that was to take him back to the house of the lovely Fairy. It had rained for many days, and the road was so muddy that, at times, Pinocchio sank down almost to his knees. But he kept on bravely. Tormented by the wish to see his father and his fairy sister with azure hair, he raced like a greyhound. As he ran, he was splashed with mud even up to his cap. "How unhappy I have been," he said to himself. "And yet I deserve everything, for I am certainly very stubborn and stupid! I will always have my own way. I won\'t listen to those who love me and who have more brains than I. But from now on, I\'ll be different and I\'ll try to become a most obedient boy. I have found out, beyond any doubt whatever, that disobedient boys are certainly far from happy, and that, in the long run, they always lose out. I wonder if Father is waiting for me. Will I find him at the Fairy\'s house? It is so long, poor man, since I have seen him, and I do so want his love and his kisses. And will the Fairy ever forgive me for all I have done? She who has been so good to me and to whom I owe my life! Can there be a worse or more heartless boy than I am anywhere?" As he spoke, he stopped suddenly, frozen with terror. What was the matter? An immense Serpent lay stretched across the road--a Serpent with a bright green skin, fiery eyes which glowed and burned, and a pointed tail that smoked like a chimney. How frightened was poor Pinocchio! He ran back wildly for half a mile, and at last settled himself atop a heap of stones to wait for the Serpent to go on his way and leave the road clear for him. He waited an hour; two hours; three hours; but the Serpent was always there, and even from afar one could see the flash of his red eyes and the column of smoke which rose from his long, pointed tail. Pinocchio, trying to feel very brave, walked straight up to him and said in a sweet, soothing voice: "I beg your pardon, Mr. Serpent, would you be so kind as to step aside to let me pass?" He might as well have talked to a wall. The Serpent never moved. Once more, in the same sweet voice, he spoke: "You must know, Mr. Serpent, that I am going home where my father is waiting for me. It is so long since I have seen him! Would you mind very much if I passed?" He waited for some sign of an answer to his questions, but the answer did not come. On the contrary, the green Serpent, who had seemed, until then, wide awake and full of life, became suddenly very quiet and still. His eyes closed and his tail stopped smoking. "Is he dead, I wonder?" said Pinocchio, rubbing his hands together happily. Without a moment\'s hesitation, he started to step over him, but he had just raised one leg when the Serpent shot up like a spring and the Marionette fell head over heels backward. He fell so awkwardly that his head stuck in the mud, and there he stood with his legs straight up in the air. At the sight of the Marionette kicking and squirming like a young whirlwind, the Serpent laughed so heartily and so long that at last he burst an artery and died on the spot.', "Pinocchio freed himself from his awkward position and once more began to run in order to reach the Fairy's house before dark. As he went, the pangs of hunger grew so strong that, unable to withstand them, he jumped into a field to pick a few grapes that tempted him. Woe to him!", 'No sooner had he reached the grapevine than--crack! went his legs. The poor Marionette was caught in a trap set there by a Farmer for some Weasels which came every night to steal his chickens. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn86-checkpoint.txt b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn86-checkpoint.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..44ab9796b74719fc121ab2ae5bc7766cdf068a90 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/.ipynb_checkpoints/sn86-checkpoint.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Picture by Bertie - a retake of the classic illustration by Walter Crane. Once upon a time there were three bears, who lived together in a house of their own in a wood. One of them was a little, small wee bear; one was a middle-sized bear, and the other was a great, huge bear. One day, after they had made porridge for their breakfast, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling. And while they were walking, a little girl came into the house. This little girl had golden curls that tumbled down her back to her waist, and everyone called her by Goldilocks. Goldilocks went inside. First she tasted the porridge of the great, huge bear, and that was far too hot for her. And then she tasted the porridge of the middle bear, and that was too cold for her. And then she went to the porridge of the little, small wee bear, and tasted that. And that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it all up. Then Goldilocks went upstairs into the bed chamber and first she lay down upon the bed of the great, huge bear, and then she lay down upon the bed of the middle bear and finally she lay down upon the bed of the little, small wee bear, and that was just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there until she fell fast asleep. By this time, the three bears thought their porridge would be cool enough, so they came home to breakfast. “SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!” said the great huge bear, in his great huge voice. “Somebody has been at my porridge!” said the middle bear, in his middle voice. Then the little, small wee bear looked at his, and there was the spoon in the porridge pot, but the porridge was all gone. “Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up!” said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small wee voice. Then the three bears went upstairs into their bedroom. “SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!” said the great, huge bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. “Somebody has been lying in my bed!” said the middle bear, in his middle voice. And when the little, small, wee bear came to look at his bed, upon the pillow there was a pool of golden curls, and the angelic face of a little girl snoring away, fast asleep. “Somebody has been lying in my bed, and here she is!” Said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small wee voice. Goldilocks jumped off the bed and ran downstairs, out of the door and down the garden path. She ran and she ran until she reached the house of her grandmama. When she told her grandmama about the house of the three bears who lived in the wood, her granny said: “My my, what a wild imagination you have, child!” (Updated with shorter version September, 13, 2016). \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn0.txt b/text/sn0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6db460f514e2702da5298ed585f9db143f289ff1 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn0.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This story is about a little girl who is a witch, and it’s fair to say that it’s more sweet than spooky. Her name is Katie, and her school mates think she is rather odd, and don’t really believe that she can do magic. She’s afraid of Halloween, because she thinks they will tease her more than usual, but in fact she has quite a few useful tricks and treats up her sleeve. Read by Natasha. Duration 8.52 Once upon a time, there was a girl called Katie. Katie was seven. And she lived in nice house with her mum and a dog called Muffin. And it was all quite normal really. Except for one thing. They were witches. Well, except for Muffin, who was a D-witch, which is a dog who casts spells. Anyway being a witch wasn’t so bad. Mum would just twitch her nose and all the cleaning would get done. Dad would wave his stick, and the lawn would cut itself. Muffin would click his paws, and a few dog treats would tumble out of the sky. They’d even taught Katie some magic. She knew how to make her homework do itself. And her room got tidied just by twitching her ear. But there was just one thing Katie really didn’t like. Halloween. Once a year, when the leaves were falling off the trees, and the nights were getting longer, all the children in her school and along her street would get terribly excited about Halloween. They made costumes of horrible looking witches. With long pointy noses, and spots, and nasty black hats, and broomsticks. And Katie said in school: “Witches aren’t like that, really. My mum looks quite nice.” And all the other girls fell about laughing. “Katie thinks she’s a witch,” they laughed. “She’s ugly and horrible, just like a witch.” And when Katie went home that day, she was really upset. She cried and cried and cried. And when her mum asked her what the matter was, she said: “Everyone hates witches. And they especially hate them at Halloween.” And her mum tried to explain that although some people didn’t like witches, it was also quite useful sometimes, like when the washing up got done all by itself. “I don’t ever want to have anything to do with witch-craft again,” said Katie angrily. But on Halloween night, all the girls from her school were organising a trick or treat tour of the street. And Katie didn’t want to go, because she’d decided she didn’t want to have anything to do with witch-craft. Never, never, never…. But her mum said she had to. Because a witch can hardly stay in on Halloween. And she whispered something in Katie’s ear. Do you know what it was? Well, I’ll tell you in a minute. Anyway, Katie went to join the other girls. And some of them started laughing at her. “Katie doesn’t have to dress up, because she’s already a witch,” they laughed. And Katie felt cross. And embarrassed. But she decided to say nothing. At the first house, they got a load of sherbet lemons. At the second, a jumbo pack of sweeties. At the third, loads and loads of crisps. And at the forth, a giant packet of chocolate biscuits. But at the fifth house, there lived a man called Mr Bones. And Mr Bones didn’t like children. He certainly didn’t see why he should give them any treats. “Buzz off, you stupid kids,” he said when they knocked on the door. “Trick or treat, trick or treat…” cried the girls. “Yes, well, I think I’ll take the trick, if it’s all the same to you,” said Mr Bones. And a horrible smile creased up his face. “Because you’re just a bunch of stupid little girls, and you don’t scare me.” “But one of us is a real witch,” said Amelia, the biggest of the girls. “Yes, yes, Katie’s a real witch,” they all cried. But Mr Bones just laughed and laughed. “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” he said. “Go on, Katie,” said Amelia. “Let’s see if you really are a witch.” And so Katie stepped forwards. “You don’t look scary to me,” said Mr Bones. “You’re just a stupid little girl.” But Katie remembered what her mum had whispered in her ear. Do you know what it was? A special spell. So right then, Katie recited the magic words. And she wriggled her ear. And all the girls gasped in amazement. Because suddenly Mr Bones wasn’t Mr Bones anymore. He was a little brown, fluffy hamster. Inside a cage. Running around and around on a wheel. All the girls laughed and laughed. Katie leaned into the cage. “Is it fun being a hamster?” The little creature squeaked and shook its head. And Katie spun the wheel, so that he had to run faster and faster. And then she recited the magic words and Mr Bones was turned back into a man again. “I’ll get you some treats, girls,” he said very quickly and nervously. And he came back with tons of chocolate bars, fizzy drinks, biscuits, and even a new Barbie DVD for each girl. “Please come back next year girls,” he said. “I’ll have even better stuff for you.” And he went back inside, looking very nervous. And as they went down the rest of the street, everyone had heard that there was a real witch out trick and treating tonight, so they all gave the girls even more sweets and biscuits than usual, and even some toys. And Katie was the most popular girl in her class. “You know, maybe it’s not so bad being a witch after all,” she said when she got home. “And I think I’m going to enjoy Halloween from now on.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn1.txt b/text/sn1.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ee1e245f64c660bf8de7254a21d87bb9807303a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn1.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ + Katie returns in a new tale in which she gets into trouble, big trouble, at school. Katie has twice as much school work to do as all the other kids. She has to learn loads and loads of magic spells, as well as her written spelling, arithmetic, geography, french and history. She finds that it’s ever so tempting just to use a little bit of magic in her ordinary school exams. And that’s when her trouble begins. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 16.15. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. In fact, everyone would have been really, really happy, except for one thing. Before the holidays, they had to do exams. And nobody likes to do exams, unless they are the swottiest of swots. And Katie didn’t think that exams were at all nice. No matter how good you are at magic, you still have to remember things for yourself. And Katie had twice as much to learn as all the other children. She had to do the witch exams as well as the ordinary school exams. She did the witch exams in the evenings – and her mum gave her four and a half stars for her work. But then she had to get ready for the tests at her school. “Mum, it’s not fair” she complained. “I have to learn so many magic spells. And I have to learn all the school lessons too.” “Well just think yourself lucky,” said Mum. “Other children have to tidy their rooms, but you can just say a magic spell and it’s done just like that!” So Katie sat in her room and tried to read her school books. But to tell you the truth, she also looked out of the window and made up fairy tales about herself. Only in the stories, she wasn’t a witch. She was a beautiful princess who could also do magic tricks. When exam week came, the first test was spelling. If it had been magic spelling, Katie would have been alright. But in this test the teacher read out words like “accommodation” and “Mississippi” and other words that are tricky to spell. Katie was really cross. She thought the teacher had chosen the most difficult words just to be mean. That wasn’t fair. So she tried a little magic. She couldn’t say a spell out loud, because everyone would hear. So she just thought the words in her head really hard – and Wow! It worked. Her pen wrote the correct spellings all by itself. Next they had to do maths problems. Katie could do the first few – because they were easy-peasy – but then there was a mean question about a monkey and some bananas. So she thought up another magic spell, and again her pen wrote down the right answer. In history, she had to remember all the names of the gods of ancient Egypt. And in geography she had to remember the capital cities of Europe. And in french she had to remember some really, really tricky words like “le singe est sur la branche “ which means “the monkey is on the branch.” In fact, all the exams had mean questions in them. And in every case, a little magic spell came in handy. In fact, the magic worked so well for Katie that she thought to herself: “Why should I bother learning all these stupid things? I can just say a magic spell and my pen will write the answer.” The week after that, the teacher finished marking all the papers. She told the class that they had all done very well, especially Katie who had scored top marks in every exam. She hadn’t got a single answer wrong. “Wow Katie,”said Julie. “You’re a genius.” The teacher said: “Congratulations Katie. You certainly did very well. Maybe too well. I think that you and I should go and have a little talk with Mrs Hepworth.” And Katie felt just a bit worried. Because Mrs Hepworth is the head mistress. And when you go to have a little talk with Mrs Hepworth, that usually means that you are in trouble. Big trouble! At lunchtime, the teacher took Katie to see Mrs Hepworth. She explained that Katie had got top marks in all her exams and hadn’t got a single question wrong. “You are a very naughty girl,” said Mrs Hepworth. And Katie started to cry. And to cry. And to cry. And the teacher dried her tears with a handkerchief. “There there,” she said. Eventually Katie stopped crying. “Do you know why you are a naughty girl?” asked Mrs Hepworth. Katie said: “You’re just cross with me because I’m a witch and I know how to do magic. That’s really mean of you because I can’t help being a witch. I was born that way.” “Now you are talking nonsense.” said Mrs Hepworth. There are no such things as witches or magic. You are in trouble because you cheated in the exams.” “I did not not NOT!” said Katie. “Just tell us how you did it, and we will let you off – this time,” said the teacher. Katie knew that she was in big trouble. She just wanted to run out of the study and all the way back home to her mum. But she couldn’t do that, so she thought she had better own up. “Well I did do a few magic spells,” she said. “Just little ones.” But they didn’t believe her. “Oh dear. What are we going to do with this problem child?” said the teacher. “Katie.” said Mrs Hepworth. “You are in big, big trouble. You have till the end of term to tell us how you cheated in the exams. If you don’t tell the truth by then, you won’t be coming back to school next term. We don’t have girls who make up stories about witches and magic in this school. Goodness gracious! You’ll be frightening all the other children with these silly stories.” And Katie was very very sad about that, because she was telling the truth about being a witch. And it wasn’t fair. It was the last week of term. And before the holidays, the school always had a special treat. This term, Katie’s class went on a trip to the safari park. It was a big park full of wild animals from places like Africa. There were giraffes, and elephants, and long-legged deer called gazelles. Katie’s class were all safe inside the bus, and they looked out of the window at all the animals. It was ever so cool. Everyone was really excited and happy. Except for Katie. She was sad because she was still in big, big trouble. The best animals were the chimpanzees. They climbed all over the bus. The driver got really cross when they stole his windscreen wipers. Everyone else thought that was ever so funny. And the lions were good too. Even if they were a bit scary. They had lunch in a restaurant on top of a tall rock. The rock was on a big island surrounded by water. And in the water there were crocodiles. And the crocodiles were really scary. Even more scary than the lions. There was boy in Katie’s class called Clive. Clive was always doing silly things. But the teachers didn’t seem to mind. Clive never got into trouble, however silly he was. But then, he didn’t know how to do magic. So that was probably why he always got away with things. In the restaurant, Clive did something very silly indeed. He asked to go to the loo, and on the way back, he went through a door that said: “Staff Only.” And from there he went down a corridor and found a special room. It was the room which they used to feed the crocodiles. It had a window and the keepers threw meat out of it, down into the river. And somebody had left the window open. Clive climbed up to look through the window. Then he saw that if you climbed out of the window, you could get onto the rocks. He thought it would be really cool to walk around the rocks, and look in at the other children eating their lunch. They would get a really big surprise to see him out there. So that’s what he did. Only he slipped on a banana skin left by a monkey. Then, he fell down the rocks and broke his ankle. Fortunately, one of the keepers saw him and sounded the alarm. Everyone in the restaurant rushed to the window to look out, and they saw Clive lying on a rock near the river. A crocodile was waddling slowly towards him. Its face had a sort of smile on it, and its tail was swishing. Everyone screamed. Except for Katie and Wendy. Wendy knew that Katie was a witch because once she had turned her into a toad for a short time. “Katie. Do something. You’re the only one who can save poor Clive. Just say a magic spell. Quick!!!!” Mrs Hepworth heard this. But she was too frightened to tell off either Wendy or Katie. After all, poor Clive was looking into the jaws of a crocodile. Katie thought really hard about what would be the best magic spell to do. And then she decided: “I know. I will make Clive fly.” Fortunately, she knew the spell to make somebody fly, off by heart. She had learned it when she was getting ready for her witch exams. Now she shouted it out at the top of her voice. I can’t tell you what she said, because it’s a secret. But it worked well, because everyone saw Clive rise up in the air, and gently fly back up to the restaurant. Even the crocodile was impressed. Then Katie said another spell to make everyone forget what they had just seen. Except for the crocodile. And Mrs Hepworth. After that, Katie wasn’t in trouble any more. Because Mrs Hepworth now knew that she was telling the truth when she said she was a witch. And Katie was glad that she had worked very hard that term – to learn all her magic spells. And when she got home and told her family what had happened, her mum gave her another half star for passing her witch exams. So now Katie is a five star witch. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn10.txt b/text/sn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..62f0636868dc05197a021aa014fe08d4d6e7d8d1 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The making of this story was more of a team effort than usual. Natasha really wanted Bertie to write a story about Katie’s mum, and she was keen on mentioning the persecution of witches. Along the way, there were some great suggestions from our listeners Eric and Melissa in Milford, Massachusetts, who saw an early version. They suggested the idea of the Street Festival and the intervention of Isis’s mum in the role of the head of the Chamber of Commerce. And finally our illustrator, CiaJia, thought up the idea for the storm. There were so many great ideas that it’s a bit longer than usual. We hope you will enjoy this rather different Katie story. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Pictures by CaiJia Eng. Duration 24 minutes. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Katie’s mother loved her job. There was nothing in the whole wide world that she would rather be than a witch. She loved the feeling of magic tingling through her fingers. The chanting of incantations was music to her ears. She always enjoyed meeting other witches and swapping spells with them. It was always satisfying to help people out with a little dose of magic, and most often, they did not even have an inkling about what she had done. But being a witch wasn’t all hunky dory. These days, when everyone is so into high tech gadgetry, magic is quite out of fashion. It’s really tough to earn a living out of it. And you have to be very thick skinned. In fact, if some people find out that you are a witch, or even suspect it, they can become quite nasty about you – vicious and vindictive even. But despite all the difficulties, Katie’s mother still believed that witchcraft had a great future. In fact, she had a little ambition. She had always wanted to own a shop where she could sell magical things. But of course she couldn’t say that they were magical, so she would just have to present them as a bit mystical and unusual. She would stock hard-to-find ingredients like Mandrake’s Root, Stardust, and Glastonbury Grass Seed. Of course she would absolutely NOT sell Powdered Unicorn Horn, because, although it is very powerful in spells, Unicorns are an endangered species. She would also have things for about the home, like pillows stuffed with dodo down, sweet smelling candles, broomsticks, and cauldrons. She would have a jewellery counter, with pendants and bangles in the shape of magical symbols. And in the back of the shop, out of view from ordinary customers, she would stock a wide range of the best books and scrolls all about magic. One afternoon at the school gate, Katie said to her mother: “Mum, I would love to be a famous film actor when I grow up.” And her mother said: “Well, if that’s what you want to do, you should do something positive about it, like audition for the school play.” “Mum, I ever so want to do the auditions, but I’m afraid that people will laugh at me. Jenny said that I can never be a film star because I look way too geeky.” “And since when was Jenny Miss Know-it-all about Hollywood? Don’t listen to her opinion. I’ve learned one thing in my life, if you want something you’ve got to just go for it, or else you will spend the rest of your days living with your regrets.” And Katie kissed her mother because she always gave her such good advice. That evening, Katie’s mum put a new spell into the dishwasher that magically collected all the dirty dishes, washed them, and then put them back in the cupboard. She was particularly proud of that spell because it improved on modern technology, and she had written it herself. And Katie thought “I must have the cleverest mum in the whole school.” Later on, when Katie was in bed, and about to turn out her light, her mother popped into her room to wish her sweet dreams. And Katie said: “Mum, you know what you said about not going for what you want, and then regretting not doing it.” And her mum said: “Yes. What about it?” And Katie said: “Is there anything you regret not doing?” And Katie’s mum thought for a while, and replied: “Well you know I’ve always wanted to open a magic shop, but I’ve never got round to doing it.” “Well why don’t you?” asked Katie. “Because people might say it was a bit strange… ” “Don’t listen to ‘people,” urged Katie, “just do it. Or you will always regret not doing it. You know you will.” And Katie’s mother said: “Time for you, my little witch, to go to sleep now.” “Oh go on mum. Say you will.” “Well perhaps I shall.” In the morning, Katie’s mother woke up with fiery determination in her belly. She had already spotted that there was a little shop for rent on the high street. After she had dropped Katie off at school, she went to speak to the landlord of the shop, who told her how much it would cost every month. First she thought that the rent was rather a lot of money, then she remembered how she would have to buy all the stock, and then she thought that going into the shop business was so terribly risky. And then at last she thought: “Well Katie’s right. If I don’t give it a try, I will always regret it.” And so the following weekend, Katie and her mother started to decorate the shop. They painted it white, because they were white witches, but they decorated it with all sorts of wavy magical patterns. They called it, “The Magic Lantern” and inside, where nobody could see, they used just a little magic to whitewash all the walls. Katie’s mother ordered all the stock, which arrived by magic, and they were able to open it within a week. “Magic might be a bit old fashioned,” said Katie’s mum, “But it’s still a big time-saver.” But Katie and her mum weren’t the only people to see how quickly and easily things were getting done around the shop. From the shop next door, and from the window across the precinct, eyes were watching them. The owner of the home furnishings shop that had been there simply forever, saw that she had a rival shop. She went to see her friend, the owner of the launderette, and said: “You’ve got to watch these witches. They will be washing clothes by magic next, and that’s what I call unfair competition.” And she went to see the owner of the patisserie shop and said: “She’s not exactly friendly is she? She hasn’t been over to say hello yet.” Perhaps the ears of Katie’s mum should have been burning with all this gossip about her buzzing around the street, but she was far too excited about her new business to notice that sort of thing. On Monday morning she snapped her fingers and the sign on the door flipped from Closed to Open. She sat down with a cup of tea and waited for her first customer: “I mustn’t be too impatient,” she said to herself, “Monday morning is bound to be slow.” But at 9.15 her first customer came in. He was a young man, and it was so exciting watching him browse through her wares. First he looked around the home accessories, and then his eye caught the jewellery counter. She guessed that he was looking for a present for his girlfriend. She summoned up all her courage to speak to him: “Can I help you with anything?” she asked. “Er yes, my girlfriend loves all this magical sort of stuff and it’s her birthday tomorrow.” She was dying to ask if his girlfriend was a witch, but she thought that it might be tactless to ask. She didn’t want her first customer to think she was being rude. When the young man chose a pendant and paid for it with his credit card she wanted to hug and kiss him, though of course she didn’t, she merely said: “Thank you sir. I hope your girlfriend likes the present.” When he had gone out of the shop, she did a little dance and shouted “Yippee!”By eleven o’clock there were three or four customers browsing around the shop and in the early afternoon a tourist bus broke down just outside window, and the passengers poured out onto the street. Most of them poured into her shop and were saying things like: “Oh Hank, just look at this little lantern, isn’t it adorable?” None of this went unnoticed by the other shopkeepers. “She’s a witch you know,” said the baker. “She put a spell on that bus,”said the newspaper agent. “And on all her customers,” added the gift shop owner. Just before 4pm Katie’s mum put a sign on the door saying, “Back Soon”and she ran down the road to pick up Katie from her school, which fortunately was not far away. As soon as Katie saw her mother’s face, she knew that her first day of shopkeeping had already been a success. “How many customers?” she asked eagerly. “I’ve lost count,” said her mum. And they both rushed back to the shop where they found a couple of customers peering through the window at the Wizard’s Writing Desk which was the most expensive item on view. Not long after, the credit card machine was cheerfully printing out a receipt. Customers continued to drop into her shop, including some local witches, and even a wizard who had flown a 100 miles by broomstick just to come to it. But even with all the customers, there were quiet times when it was quite lonely in the shop, and she longed to chat to the other shopkeepers nearby. But they all gave her a cold shoulder. And things got worse. One morning when she came in, she found that somebody had spray-canned some dreadful words over her window: “Witches Out!” “Oh dear,” said Katie’s mother, “somebody doesn’t like me.” And without thinking she snapped her fingers, and the window was immediately clean again. And then she thought, “Oh silly me. I hope nobody saw me do that.” That afternoon, Katie left the school in the happiest of moods. She had just been given a lead part in the school play. It was called The Witches of Salem, and was set in New England in the 1690s when women were put on trial for being witches. “Mr Holkham said the part was just made for me!” said Katie with a huge smile on her face. “Oh that’s fantastic darling. You’ve done so well,” said her mother as they sat in the car. But by the time they reached the traffic lights, Katie could tell that something was troubling her mother. Later that evening, when she was making soup in the kitchen, she told Katie all about the “Witches Out!”graffiti. “Oh dear,” said Katie, “I think you are being persecuted.” And her mother had to wipe a tear from her eye as she tried to look brave. They next day, when Katie told her best friend Isis all about what had happened, she said: “It’s just like in the school play. It’s a witch hunt. I’m just so afraid for my mum. She’s so nice. She hates fighting.” And Isis thought and said: “If she hates fighting, she shouldn’t do it. She needs a charm offensive.” “What’s a charm offensive?” asked Katie. “It’s like when you think up a plan to win over people’s hearts,” said Isis. “She mustn’t get hurt. She mustn’t hit back. She must be true to herself and be nice to everyone. That’s what I think anyway.” Katie thought that a charm offensive sounded like a brilliant plan, and after school she told her mother what Isis had said. “Well of course she’s right,” said her mum, “I must try to win over the shopkeepers. But it’s hard not to feel paranoid when everyone’s out to get you.” What Katie’s mum needed was a little sign to point her in the right direction, and the very next day she found one quite unexpectedly. She received a visit in the shop from somebody she knew, although not very well. The visitor was dressed in a smart two piece suit, she wore a string of pearls around her neck, and carried a little briefcase. She was head of the local Chamber of Commerce, which is like a club for all the local shops and businesses, and as it happened, she was also Isis’s mum. “I thought you might like to help us,” said Isis’s mum. “We are holding a street festival and we need lots of things.” “Like what?” asked Katie’s mum. “Oh like food, and balloons, and party games for the children.” “Well I think the Magic Lantern could help with that,” she said. “And if you like, I’ll help with the organisation too.” “Brilliant,” said Isis’s mum.', "And for the next six weeks, Katie’s mum worked ever so hard at organising the street party. She made a brochure and a website which advertised all the local shops. She drew up plans showing where all the stalls would be. She cut out bunting, blew up balloons, baked cakes, and she ordered a bouncy castle, a children's magician, and a jazz band.", "On the morning of the big day, the sun was shining, and the crowds came out to mill around the open-air stalls. Women browsed through designer clothes, husbands looked for nice but not too expensive presents for their wives, and children's faces were all messy with icecream.", 'The lady from the gift shop brought her family dog with her. It was a lovely great big bouncy red setter, who liked nothing more than to jump up and lick your face. His owner unclipped his lead and whispered in his fluffy ear: “Tiggy darling, go and find the witch,” and because he was a clever dog he understood exactly what she meant. He bounded over to the stall where Katie’s mum had set out her wares. He jumped up onto it and liked her face, sending pendants, rings, and magic charms scattering in all directions. The whole stall tipped over and Katie’s fizzy orange drink spilled all over a customer’s dress. The gift shop owner came running over and said to Katie’s mum: “Did you just try and put a spell on my dog? He’s as good as gold except when there’s a witch around.” And Katie’s mum was so upset that she didn’t notice that a thief was picking up rings off the ground and palming them, while his accomplice was helping herself to the upturned cash box. “Oh dear,” she thought, “I wish I could use a bit of magic to tidy all this up, but I can’t with so many people around.” But Katie and Isis helped her to sort out the mess and set things right in no time, and before long the customers were buying her things again. The lady from the flower shop whispered to the newsagent, “You just can’t keep a bad witch down.” But around lunch time, grey clouds began to blow over the sky, and the street became darker and quite chilly. Some people went into cafes, but others started to drift away back home. Drops of rain were already starting to land on the stores. “Now might be a good time to make the sun come out,”said the lady from the patisserie shop to Katie’s mum, not actually saying that she was a witch, but just making sure that they both understood what she meant. Just then a gust of wind blew down the street and blew away all cards from the gift stall. Instead of picking them up, she ran over to Katie’s mum and screeched: “You did that on purpose didn’t you?” “I don’t know what you mean,” protested Katie’s mum. “Yes you do you witch. You are getting your own back.” While she was accusing Katie’s mum, the rain was soaking the clothes, and ruining the cakes. The store owners were hastily gathering up their things and taking them back inside the shops. “Oh dear, the party is ruined,” said Isis’ mum. But the storm only lasted half an hour, and afterwards the sun came out shining in all the puddles and making the whole street look glistening and beautiful. ‘Well it’s too late for us,” said the gift-shop owner to her dog, “because half our cards and gifts are soaked, and the other half are lost, thanks to that witch.” Then she looked up and saw Katie standing there: “What do you want?” said the angry shopkeeper. “We want to help you,” said Katie. “Why don’t you take Tiggy for a walk down the street for fifteen minutes, and when you come back, I promise that things will be much better. “Pah, said the lady. “More tricks and witchery,” but she was so fed up, that she did take Tiggy down the road to the park. While she was away, Katie’s mum said a little magic spell. She didn’t actually collect all the lost cards in one go, because that would be too noticeable, but it did help Katie and Isis find them all ten times as quickly as they would normally, and when they picked them up, they were all clean. All the way down the street, the stall owners were making light work of setting up everything again, and Katie’s mum, who had already reset her stall, was lending a helping hand wherever she could. Everyone was saying how unlucky it had been that the storm had blown down the street, but as everyone was helping each other, there were cheerful smiles and jokes all round. When the gift store owner returned, she found that her store was set up as well, if not better, than before. “Well thank you,” she said grudgingly to Katie. “Don’t thank me, thank my mum,” replied Katie. And although the gift store owner did not quite go as far as to thank Katie’s mum, she never said a bad word against her again, and from that day on, all the other shopkeepers on the street said things like: “Well she might be a witch, but she’s still a nice person.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn100.txt b/text/sn100.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..5fe072101af588ae7b7cab61a8ecadc41456ebe4 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn100.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This is the classic story of somebody who is a "bit different". We probably all know somebody at school is isn\'t quite accepted by the class. That is exactly what the "Ugly Duckling" in this story has to live with.', "The duckling her isn't cute and yellow like the other baby ducks. Instead, he is tall, gray and awkward. The farmyard ducks don't like him - and he is so upset that he sets out on a journey across the moors all on his own, until, at the wonderful ending he finds his true self.", "This story is a little longer than our usual audio - so sit back and let Hans Christian Andersen's wonderful writing - and Natasha's reading - transport you the countryside. This story has some out-door sound-effects to complete the atmosphere.", 'Read by Natasha. Duration 29. 18 Minutes. It was summer in the land of Denmark, and though for most of the year the country looks flat and ugly, it was beautiful now. The wheat was yellow, the oats were green, the hay was dry and delicious to roll in, and from the old ruined house which nobody lived in, down to the edge of the canal, was a forest of prickly plants called burdocks so tall that a whole family of children might have dwelt in them and never have been found out. It was under these burdocks that a duck had built herself a warm nest, and was not sitting all day on six pretty eggs. Five of them were white, but the sixth, which was larger than the others, was of an ugly grey colour. The duck was always puzzled about that egg, and how it came to be so different from the rest. Other birds might have thought that when the duck went down in the morning and evening to the water to stretch her legs in a good swim, some lazy mother might have been on the lookout , and have popped her egg into the nest. But ducks are not clever at all, and are not quick at counting, so this duck did not worry herself about the matter, but just took care that the big egg should be as warm as the rest.', "This was the first set of eggs that the duck had ever laid, and, to begin with, she was very pleased and proud, and laughed at the other mothers, who were always neglecting their duties to gossip with each other or to take little extra swims besides the two in the morning and evening that were necessary for health. But at length she grew tired of sitting there all day. ‘My eggs are taking too long to hatch,' she said to herself; and she pined for a little amusement also.", 'Still, she knew that if she left her eggs and the ducklings in them to die, none of her friends would ever speak to her again; so there she stayed, only getting off the eggs several times a day to see if the shells were cracking--which may have been the very reason why they did not crack sooner. She had looked at the eggs at least a hundred and fifty times, when, to her joy, she saw a tiny crack on two of them, and scrambling back to the nest she drew the eggs closer the one to the other, and never moved for the whole of that day. Next morning she was rewarded by noticing cracks in the whole five eggs, and by midday two little yellow heads were poking out from the shells. This encouraged her so much that, after breaking the shells with her bill, so that the little creatures could get free of them, she sat steadily for a whole night upon the nest, and before the sun arose the five white eggs were empty, and ten pairs of eyes were gazing out upon the green world. Now the duck had been carefully brought up, and did not like dirt, and, besides, broken shells are not at all comfortable things to sit or walk upon; so she pushed the rest out over the side, and felt delighted to have some company to talk to till the big egg hatched. But day after day went on, and the big egg showed no signs of cracking, and the duck grew more and more impatient, and began to wish she could ask the advice of her husband, but he was never around when she needed him.', "'I can't think what is the matter with it,' the duck grumbled to her neighbour who had called in to pay her a visit. 'Why I could have hatched two broods in the time that this one has taken!'", "'Let me look at it,' said the old neighbour. 'Ah, I thought so; it is a turkey's egg. Once, when I was young, they tricked me to sitting on a brood of turkey's eggs myself, and when they were hatched the creatures were so stupid that nothing would make them learn to swim. I have no patience when I think of it.'", 'All through the next day she sat on, giving up even her morning bath for fear that a blast of cold might strike the big egg. In the evening, when she ventured to peep, she thought she saw a tiny crack in the upper part of the shell. Filled with hope, she went back to her duties, though she could hardly sleep all night for excitement. When she woke with the first steaks of light she felt something stirring under her. Yes, there it was at last; and as she moved, a big awkward bird tumbled head foremost on the ground.', "There was no denying it was ugly, even the mother was forced to admit that to herself, though she only said it was 'large' and 'strong.'", "'You won't need any teaching when you are once in the water,' she told him, with a glance of surprise at the dull brown which covered his back, and at his long naked neck. And indeed he did not, though he was not half so pretty to look at as the little yellow balls that followed her.", "When they returned they found the old neighbour on the bank waiting for them to take them into the duckyard. 'No, it is not a young turkey, certainly,' whispered she in confidence to the mother, 'for though it is lean and skinny, and has no colour to speak of, yet there is something rather distinguished about it, and it holds its head up well.'", "'It is very kind of you to say so,' answered the mother, who by this time had some secret doubts of its loveliness. 'Of course, when you see it by itself it is all right, though it is different, somehow, from the others. But one cannot expect all one's children to be beautiful!'", 'By this time they had reached the centre of the yard, where a very old duck was sitting, who was treated with great respect by all the birds who lived on the water.', "'You must go up and bow low before her,' whispered the mother to her children, nodding her head in the direction of the old lady, 'and keep your legs well apart, as you see me do. No well-bred duckling turns in its toes. It is a sign of common parents.'", 'The little ducks tried hard to make their small fat bodies copy the movements of their mother, and the old lady was quite pleased with them; but the rest of the ducks looked on feeling annoyed, and one duck in particular said:', "'Oh, dear me, here are ever so many more little ducks! The yard is full already; and did you ever see anything quite as ugly as that great tall creature? He is a disgrace to any brood. I shall go and chase him out!' So saying she put up her feathers, and running to the big duckling bit his neck.", 'The duckling gave a loud quack; it was the first time he had felt any pain, and at the sound his mother turned quickly.', "'Leave him alone,' she said fiercely, 'or I will send for his father. He was not bother you.'", "'No; but he is so ugly and awkward no one can put up with him,' answered the stranger. And though the duckling did not understand the meaning of the words, he felt he was being blamed, and became more uncomfortable still when the old Spanish duck who ruled the yard butted in:", "'It certainly is a great pity he is so different from these beautiful darlings. If he could only be hatched over again!'", 'The poor little fellow drooped his head, and did not know where to look, but was comforted when his mother answered:', "'He may not be quite as handsome as the others, but he swims better, and is very strong; I am sure he will make his way in the world as well as anybody.'", "'Well, you must feel quite at home here,' said the old duck waddling off. And so they did, all except the duckling, who was snapped at by everyone when they thought his mother was not looking. Even the turkey-cockerel, who was so big, never passed him without mocking words, and his brothers and sisters, who would not have noticed any difference unless it had been put into their heads, soon became as rude and unkind as the rest.", 'At last he could bear it no longer, and one day he fancied he saw signs of his mother turning against him too; so that night, when the ducks and hens were still asleep, he stole away through an open door, and under cover of the burdock leaves scrambled on by the bank of the canal, till he reached a wide grassy moor, full of soft marshy places where the reeds grew. Here he lay down, but he was too tired and too frightened to fall asleep, and with the earliest peep of the sun the reeds began to rustle, and he saw that he had blundered into a colony of wild ducks. But as he could not run away again he stood up and bowed politely.', "'You are ugly,' said the wild ducks, when they had looked him well over; 'but, however, it is no business of ours, unless you wish to marry one of our daughters, and that we should not allow.' And the duckling answered that he had no idea of marrying anybody, and wanted nothing but to be left alone after his long journey.", 'So for two whole days he lay quietly among the reeds, eating such food as he could find, and drinking the water of the moorland pool, till he felt himself quite strong again. He wished he might stay were he was for ever, he was so comfortable and happy, away from everyone, with nobody to bite him and tell him how ugly he was. He was thinking these thoughts, when two young geese caught sight of him as they were having their evening splash among the reeds, looking for their supper.', "'We are getting tired of this moor,' they said, 'and to-morrow we think of trying another, where the lakes are larger and the feeding better. Will you come with us?'", "'Is it nicer than this?' asked the duckling doubtfully. And the words were hardly out of his mouth, when 'Pif! pah!' and the two new- comers were stretched dead beside him.", 'At the sound of the gun the wild ducks in the rushes flew into the air, and for a few minutes the firing continued as the huntsmen aimed at the flying birds. Luckily for himself the duckling could not fly, and he floundered along through the water till he could hide himself amidst some tall ferns which grew in a hollow. But before he got there he met a huge creature on four legs, which soon realized was dog, who stood and gazed at him with a long red tongue hanging out of his mouth. The duckling grew cold with terror, and tried to hide his head beneath his little wings; but the dog snuffed at him and passed on, and he was able to reach into his hiding place.', "'I am too ugly even for a dog to eat,' said he to himself. 'Well, that is a great mercy.' And he curled himself up in the soft grass till the shots died away in the distance.", 'When all had been quiet for a long time, and there were only stars to see him, he crept out and looked about him. He would never go near a pool again, never, thought he; and seeing that the moor stretched far away in the opposite direction from which he had come, he marched bravely on till he got to a small cottage, which seemed too tumbledown for the stones to hold together many hours longer. Even the door only hung upon one hinge, and as the only light in the room sprang from a tiny fire, the duckling edged himself cautiously in, and lay down under a chair close to the broken door, from which he could get out if necessary. But no one seemed to see him or smell him; so he spend the rest of the night in peace. Now in the cottage there lived an old woman, her cat, and a hen; and it was really they, and not she, who were masters of the house. The old woman, who passed all her days in spinning yarn, which she sold at the nearest town, loved both the cat and the hen as her own children, and never did anything they didn’t want in any way; so it was them, not her, that the duckling had to ask for a favour. It was only next morning, when it grew light, that they noticed their visitor, who stood trembling before them, with his eye on the door ready to escape at any moment. They did not, however, appear very fierce, and the duckling became less afraid as they approached him.', "'Can you lay eggs?' asked the hen. And the duckling answered meekly:", "'No; I don't know how.' Upon which the hen turned her back, and the cat came forward.", "'Can you ruffle your fur when you are angry, or purr when you are pleased?' said she. And again the duckling had to admit that he could do nothing but swim, which did not seem of much use to anybody.", 'So the cat and the hen went straight off to the old woman, who was still in bed.', "'Such a useless creature has taken refuge here,' they said. 'It calls itself a duckling; but it can neither lay eggs nor purr! What had we better do with it?'", "'Keep it, to be sure!' replied the old woman briskly. 'It is all nonsense about it not laying eggs. Anyway, we will let it stay here for a bit, and see what happens.'", 'So the duckling remained for three weeks, and shared the food of the cat and the hen; but nothing in the way of eggs happened at all. Then the sun came out, and the air grew soft, and the duckling grew tired of being in a hut, and wanted with all his might to have a swim. And one morning he got so restless that even his friends noticed it.', "'What is the matter?' asked the hen; and the duckling told her.", "'I am so longing for the water again. You can't think how delicious it is to put your head under the water and dive straight to the bottom.'", "'I don't think I should enjoy it,' replied the hen doubtfully. 'And I don't think the cat would like it either.' And the cat, when asked, agreed there was nothing she would hate so much.", "'I can't stay here any longer, I Must get to the water,' repeated the duck. And the cat and the hen, who felt hurt and offended, answered shortly:", "'Very well then, go.'", 'The duckling would have liked to say good- bye, and thank them for their kindness, as he was polite by nature; but they had both turned their backs on him, so he went out of the rickety door feeling rather sad. But, in spite of himself, he could not help a thrill of joy when he was out in the air and water once more, and cared little for the rude glances of the creatures he met. For a while he was quite happy and content; but soon the winter came on, and snow began to fall, and everything to grow very wet and uncomfortable. And the duckling soon found that it is one thing to enjoy being in the water, and quite another to like being damp on land.', "The sun was setting one day, like a great scarlet globe, and the river, to the duckling's vast bewilderment, was getting hard and slippery, when he heard a sound of whirring wings, and high up in the air a flock of swans were flying. They were as white as snow which had fallen during the night, and their long necks with yellow bills were stretched to a land where the sun shone all day. Oh, if he only could have gone with them! But that was not possible, of course; and besides, what sort of companion could an ugly thing like him be to those beautiful beings? So he walked sadly down to a sheltered pool and dived to the very bottom, and tried to think it was the greatest happiness he could dream of. But, all the same, he knew it wasn't!", 'And every morning it grew colder and colder, and the duckling had hard work to keep himself warm. Indeed, it would be truer to say that he never was warm at all; and at last, after one bitter night, his legs moved so slowly that the ice crept closer and closer, and when the morning light broke he was caught fast, as in a trap; and soon his senses went from him.', "He never could tell afterwards exactly how he had spent the rest of the winter. He only knew that he was very miserable and that he never had enough to eat. But by-and-by things grew better. The earth became softer, the sun hotter, the birds sang, and the flowers once more appeared in the grass. When he stood up, he felt different, somehow, from what he had done before he fell asleep among the reeds to which he had wandered after he had escaped from the peasant's hut. His body seemed larger, and his wings stronger. Something pink looked at him from the side of a hill. He thought he would fly towards it and see what it was.", "'I will follow them,' said the duckling to himself; 'ugly though I am, I would rather be killed by them than suffer all I have suffered from cold and hunger, and from the ducks and fowls who should have treated me kindly.' And flying quickly down to the water, he swam after them as fast as he could.", "'If I am to die, I would rather you should kill me. I don't know why I was ever hatched, for I am too ugly to live.' And as he spoke, he bowed his head and looked down into the water.", "'The new one is the best of all,' said the children when they came down to feed the swans with biscuit and cake before going to bed. 'His feathers are whiter and his beak more golden than the rest.' And when he heard that, the duckling thought that it was worth while having undergone all the persecution and loneliness that he had passed through, as otherwise he would never have known what it was to be really happy. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn101.txt b/text/sn101.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2ce5f61024c34bf1ae4ea9b182a2c6424a6b51ae --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn101.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +All the courtiers say that the clothes are quite magnificent, and the Emperor plans to wear his new suit for the procession through the centre of the city.', "The moral of this story rings so very true! What we are doing is totally absurd, but we can't stop because everybody else seems to believe that it's the right thing to do. Yet they can probably see it's just as ridiculous as we can. ", "The little boy who literally sees through the Emperor's New Clothes only appears for a moment, and yet he is one of the greatest heroes of all fairy tales - for he speaks the truth that nobody else dares to speak. ", 'Many years ago, there was an emperor, who was so excessively fond of new clothes, that he spent all his money on the finest suits. He did not trouble himself in the least about his soldiers; nor did he care to go to the theatre or out hunting, except when there was a chance to show off his new clothes. He had a different suit for each hour of the day. Just as you might say of any other king or emperor, “He is sitting in his council,” people used to say of him, “He is sitting in his wardrobe.” Time passed merrily in the large town which was his capital; strangers arrived every day at the court. One day, two rogues, calling themselves weavers, came to the court. They said that they knew how to weave clothes of the most beautiful colours and elaborate patterns. The clothes made from their cloths were like no others, for they were invisible to everyone who was either unfit for their job, or extremely simple in the head. “These must, indeed, be splendid clothes!” Thought the emperor. “Had I such a suit, I might at once find out what men in my empire are unfit for their jobs, and also be able to tell the wise from the foolish! This stuff must be woven for me immediately.” He ordered large sums of money to be given to both the weavers so that they might begin their work. So the two false weavers set up two looms, and pretended to work very busily, though in reality they did nothing at all. They asked for the most delicate silk and the purest gold thread; put both into their own knapsacks, and then continued their pretend work at the empty looms until late at night. “I should like to know how the weavers are getting on with my cloth,” said the emperor to himself, after some little time had gone by. He was, however, rather embarrassed, when he remembered that a simpleton, or someone unfit for his office, would be unable to see the results of their work. To be sure, he himself would not have any trouble seeing the clothes, but yet, thought it would be better to send somebody else to report on the weavers and their work. All the people throughout the city had heard of the wonderful cloth; and all were anxious to earn how wise, or how ignorant, their neighbours might prove to be. “I will send my faithful old minister to the weavers,” said the emperor at last, after some thought “he will be best able to see how the cloth looks; for he is a man of sense, and no one can be more suitable for his office than he is.” So the faithful old minister went into the hall, where the knaves were working with all their might, at their empty looms. “What can be the meaning of this?” Thought the old man, opening his eyes very wide. “I cannot see the least bit of thread on the looms.” However, he did not speak his thoughts aloud. The tricksters asked him very politely to be so good as to come nearer their looms; and then asked him whether the design pleased him, and whether the colours were not very beautiful - at the same time pointing to the empty frames. The poor old minister looked and looked, he could not see anything on the looms, for a very good reason: There was nothing there. “What!” Thought he again. “Is it possible that I am a simpleton? I have never thought so myself; and no one must know it now if I am so. Can it be, that I am unfit for my office? No, that must not be said either. I will never confess that I could not see the stuff.” “Well, Sir Minister!” said one of the knaves, still pretending to work. “You do not say whether the stuff pleases you.” “Oh, it is excellent!” Replied the old minister, looking at the loom through his spectacles. “This pattern, and the colours, yes, I will tell the emperor without delay. How very beautiful I think them.” “We shall be much obliged to you,” said the impostors, and then they named the different colours and described the pattern of the pretend stuff. The old minister listened attentively to their words, in order that he might repeat them to the emperor; and then the knaves asked for more silk and gold, saying that it was necessary to complete what they had begun. However, they put all that was given them into their knapsacks and continued to work with as much pretend effort as before at their empty looms. The emperor now sent another officer of his court to see how the men were getting on, and to find out whether the cloth would soon be ready. It was just the same with this gentleman as with the minister; he looked at the looms on all sides, but could see nothing at all but the empty frames. “Does not the stuff appear as beautiful to you, as it did to my lord the minister?” Asked the impostors of the emperor’s second ambassador; at the same time making the same gestures as before, and talking of the design and colours which were not there. “I certainly am not stupid!” Thought the messenger. “It must be, that I am not fit for my good, well-paid job! That is very odd; however, no one shall know anything about it.” Therefore he praised the stuff he could not see, and declared that he was delighted with both colours and patterns. “Indeed, please your Imperial Majesty,” said he to the emperor when he returned, “the cloth which the weavers are preparing is extraordinarily magnificent.” The whole city was talking of the splendid cloth which the emperor had ordered to be woven at his own expense. Now the emperor for himself wished to see the costly manufacture, while it was still in the loom. Accompanied by a select number of officers of the court, among whom were the two honest men who had already admired the cloth, he went to the crafty impostors, who, as soon as they knew the emperor was on his way, went on working more hard than ever; although they still did not pass a single thread through the looms. “Is not the work absolutely magnificent?” Said the two officers of the crown, who already who had been before. “If Your Majesty will only be pleased to look at it! What a splendid design! What glorious colours!” At the same time they pointed to the empty frames; for they imagined that everyone else could see this exquisite piece of workmanship. “How is this?” Said the emperor to himself. “I can see nothing! This is indeed a terrible affair! Am I a simpleton, or am I unfit to be an emperor? That would be the worst thing that could happen” - ”Oh! The cloth is charming,” said he, aloud. “It has my complete approval.” He smiled most graciously, and looked closely at the empty looms; for on no account would he say that he could not see what two of the officers of his court had praised so much. All his retinue now strained their eyes, hoping to discover something on the looms, but they could see no more than the others; nevertheless, they all exclaimed, “Oh, how beautiful!” And advised his majesty to have some new clothes made from this splendid material, for the public procession which was due to take place soon. “Magnificent! Charming! Excellent!” Everyone said on all sides; and everyone was uncommonly cheerful. The emperor shared in the general satisfaction; and presented the impostors with the riband of an order of knighthood, to be worn in their buttonholes, and the title of “Gentlemen Weavers.” The rogues sat up the whole of the night before the day on which the procession was to take place, and had sixteen lights burning so that everyone might see how anxious they were to finish the emperor’s new suit. They pretended to roll the cloth off the looms; cut the air with their scissors, and sewed with needles without any thread in them. “See!” Cried they, at last. “The emperor’s new clothes are ready!” Now the emperor, with all the grandees of his court, came to the weavers; and the rogues raised their arms, as if holding something up, saying, “Here are Your Majesty’s trousers! Here is the scarf! Here is the cloak! The whole suit is as light as a cobweb; one might fancy one has nothing at all on, when one is dressed in it. That, however, is the great virtue of this delicate cloth.” “Yes indeed!” Said all the courtiers, although not one of them could see anything of this exquisite manufacture. “If Your Imperial Majesty will be graciously pleased to take off your clothes, we will fit on the new suit, in front of the looking glass.” The emperor was accordingly undressed, and the rogues pretended to array him in his new suit; the emperor turning round, from side to side, looking in the glass. “How splendid His Majesty looks in his new clothes, and how well they fit!” Everyone cried out. “What a design! What colours! These are indeed royal robes!” “The canopy which is to be carried over Your Majesty, in the procession, is waiting,” announced the chief master of the ceremonies. “I am quite ready,” answered the emperor. “Do my new clothes fit well?” Asked he, turning himself round again before the looking glass, in order that he might appear to be examining his handsome suit. The lords of the bedchamber, who were to carry His Majesty’s train felt about on the ground, as if they were lifting up the ends of the robes, and pretended to be carrying something; for they would by no means let anyone see that they were simple or unfit for their jobs. So now the emperor walked under his high canopy in the midst of the procession, through the streets of his capital. All the people standing by, and those at the windows, cried out, “Oh! How beautiful are our emperor’s clothes! What a magnificent train there is to the robes and how gracefully the scarf hangs!” In short, no one would allow that he could not see these much admired clothes - because, in doing so, he would have declared himself either a simpleton or unfit for his job. Certainly, none of the emperor’s various suits had ever made so great an impression as these invisible ones. “But the emperor has nothing at all on!” Said a little child. “Listen to the voice of innocence!” Exclaimed his father; and what the child had said was whispered from one to another. “But he has nothing at all on!” At last cried out all the people. The emperor was suddenly embarrassed, for he knew that the people were right; but he thought the procession must go on now! And the lords of the bedchamber took greater pains than ever, to appear holding up the robes although, in reality, there were no robes at all. And that’s the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes by Hans Christian Andersen. Bertie says that in real life, people are often more silly in a crowd than they are on their own. If you think that everybody else believes something, then it must be true – and you have to be very brave to be like the little boy in the story and stand up and say what can see with your own eyes. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn102.txt b/text/sn102.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..41a79c57cd7a8c1ee4c1b1cf4d781fc20f980eef --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn102.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio Have you ever seen a very old chest; black with age, and covered with outlandish carved ornaments and curling leaves? Well, in a certain parlour there was just such a chest, handed down from some great-grandmother. Carved all up and down it ran tulips and roses, odd-looking flourishes, and from fanciful thickets little stags stuck out their antlered heads. Right in the middle of the chest a whole man was carved. He would make you laugh to look at him grinning away, though one couldn’t call his grinning laughing. He had hind legs like a goat’s, a little horn on his forehead, and a long beard. All his children called him “General Headquarters-Hindquarters-Gives-Orders-Front-and-Rear-Sergeant-Billygoat-Legs.” It was a difficult name to pronounce and not many people get to be called by it, but he must have been very important or why should anyone have taken trouble to carve him at all? However, there he stood, forever eyeing a delightful little china shepherdess on the table top under the mirror. The little shepherdess wore golden shoes, and looped up her gown fetchingly with a red rose. Her hat was gold, and even her crook was gold. She was simply charming! Close by her stood a little chimney-sweep, as black as coal, but made of porcelain too. He was as clean and tidy as anyone can be, because you see he was only an ornamental chimney-sweep. If the china-makers had wanted to, they could just as easily have turned him out as a prince, for he had a jaunty way of holding his ladder, and his cheeks were as pink as a girl’s. That was a mistake, don’t you think? He should have been dabbed with a pinch or two of soot. He and the shepherdess stood quite close together. They had both been put on the table where they stood and, having been placed there, they had become engaged because they suited each other exactly. Both were young, both were made of the same porcelain, and neither could stand a shock. Near them stood another figure, three times as big as they were. It was an old China-man who could nod his head. He too was made of porcelain, and he said he was the little shepherdess’ grandfather - but he couldn’t prove it. Nevertheless he claimed that this gave him authority over her, and when General Headquarters-Hindquarters-Gives-Orders-Front-and-Rear-Sergeant-Billygoat-Legs asked for her hand in marriage, the old China-man nodded consent. “There’s a husband for you!” The old China-man told the shepherdess. “A husband who, I am inclined to believe, is made of mahogany. He can make you Mrs. General-Headquarters-Hindquarters-Gives-Orders-Front-and-Rear-Sergeant-Billygoat-Legs. He has the whole chest full of silver, and who knows what else he’s got hidden away in his secret drawers?” “But I don’t want to go and live in the dark chest,” said the little shepherdess. “I have heard people say he’s got eleven china wives in there already.” “Then you will make twelve,” said the China-man. “Tonight, as soon as the old chest commences to creak I’ll marry you off to him, as sure as I’m a China-man.” Then he nodded off to sleep. The little shepherdess cried and looked at her true love, the porcelain chimney-sweep. “Please let’s run away into the big, wide world,” she begged him, “for we can’t stay here.” “I’ll do just what you want me to,” the little chimney-sweep told her. “Let’s run away right now. I feel sure I can support you by chimney-sweeping.” “I wish we were safely down off this table,” she said. “I’ll never be happy until we are out in the big, wide world.” He told her not to worry, and showed her how to drop her little feet over the table edge, and how to step from one gilded leaf to another down the carved leg of the table. He set up his ladder to help her, and down they came safely to the floor. But when they glanced at the old chest they saw a great commotion. All the carved stags were craning their necks, tossing their antlers, and turning their heads. General Headquarters-Hindquarters-Gives-Orders-Front-and-Rear-Sergeant-Billygoat-Legs jumped high in the air, and shouted to the old China-man, “They’re running away! They’re running away!” This frightened them so that they jumped quickly into a drawer of the window seat. Here they found three or four decks of cards, not quite complete, and a little puppet theatre, which was set up as well as it was possible to do. A play was in progress, and all the diamond queens, heart queens, club queens, and spade queens sat in front row and fanned themselves with the tulips they held in their hands. Behind them the knaves lined up, showing that they had heads both at the top and at the bottom, as face cards do have. The play was all about two people, who were not allowed to marry, and it made the shepherdess cry because it was so like her own story. “I can’t bear to see any more,” she said. “I must get out of this drawer at once.” But when they got back to the floor and looked up at the table, they saw the old China-man was wide awake now. Not only his head, but his whole body rocked forward. The lower part of his body was one solid piece, you see. “The old China-man’s coming!” Cried the little Shepherdess, who was so upset that she fell down on her porcelain knees. “I have an idea,” said the chimney-sweeper. “We’ll hide in the pot-pourri vase in the corner. There we can rest upon rose petals and lavender, and when he finds us we can throw salt in his eyes.” “It’s no use,” she said. “Besides, I know the pot-pourri vase was once the old China-man’s sweetheart, and where there used to be love a little affection is sure to remain. No, there’s nothing for us to do but to run away into the big wide world.” “Are you really so brave that you’d go into the wide world with me?” Asked the chimney-sweep. “Have you thought about how big it is, and that we can never come back here?” “I have,” she said. The chimney-sweep looked her straight in the face and said, “My way lies up through the chimney. Are you really so brave that you’ll come with me into the stove, and crawl through the stovepipe? It will take us to the chimney. Once we get there, I’ll know what to do. We shall climb so high that they’ll never catch us, and at the very top there’s an opening into the big wide world.” He led her to the stove door. “It looks very black in there,” she said. But she let him lead her through the stove and through the stovepipe, where it was pitch black night. “Now we’ve come to the chimney,” he said. “And see! See how the bright star shines over our heads.” A real star, high up in the heavens, shone down as if it wished to show them the way. They clambered and scuffled, for it was hard climbing and terribly steep - way, way up high! But he lifted her up, held her safe, and found the best places for her little porcelain feet. At last they reached the top of the chimney, where they sat down. For they were so tired, and no wonder! Overhead was the starry sky, and spread before them were all the housetops in the town. They looked out on the big wide world. The poor shepherdess had never thought it would be like that. She flung her little head against the chimney-sweep, and sobbed so many tears that the gilt washed off her sash. “This is too much,” she said. “I can’t bear it. The wide world is too big. Oh! If I only were back on my table under the mirror. I’ll never be happy until I stand there again, just as before. I followed you faithfully out into the world, and if you love me the least bit you’ll take me right home.” The chimney-sweep tried to persuade her that it wasn’t sensible to go back. He talked to her about the old China-man, and of General Headquarters-Hindquarters-Gives-Orders-Front-and-Rear-Sergeant-Billygoat-Legs, but she sobbed so hard and kissed her chimney-sweep so much that he had to do as she said, though he thought it was the wrong thing to do. So back down the chimney they climbed with great difficulty, and they crawled through the wretched stovepipe into the dark stove. Here they listened behind the door, to find out what was happening in the room. Everything seemed quiet, so they opened the door and - oh, what a pity! There on the floor lay the China-man, in three pieces. When he had come running after them, he tumbled off the table and smashed. His whole back had come off in one piece, and his head had rolled into the corner. General Headquarters-Hindquarters-Gives-Orders-Front-and-Rear-Sergeant-Billygoat-Legs was standing where he always stood, looking thoughtful. “Oh, dear,” said the little shepherdess, “poor old grandfather is all broken up, and it’s entirely our fault. I shall never live through it.” She wrung her delicate hands. “He can be patched,” said the chimney-sweep. “He can be riveted. Don’t be so upset about him. A little glue for his back and a strong rivet in his neck, and he will be just as good as new, and just as disagreeable as he was before.” “Will he, really?” she asked, as they climbed back to their old place on the table. “Here we are,” said the chimney-sweep. “Back where we started from. We could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble.” “Now if only old grandfather were mended,” said the little shepherdess. “Is mending terribly expensive?” He was mended well enough. The family had his back glued together, and a strong rivet put through his neck. That made him as good as new, except that never again could he nod his head. “It seems to me that you have grown haughty since your fall, though I don’t see why you should be proud of it,” General Headquarters-Hindquarters-Gives-Orders-Front-and-Rear-Sergeant-Billygoat-Legs complained. “Am I to have her, or am I not?” The chimney-sweep and the little shepherdess looked so pleadingly at the old China-man, for they were deathly afraid he would nod. But he didn’t... He couldn’t. Neither did he care to tell anyone that, forever and a day, he’d have to wear a rivet in his neck. So the little porcelain people remained together. They thanked goodness for the rivet in grandfather’s neck, and they kept on loving each other until the day they broke. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn103.txt b/text/sn103.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..98af0b93a87f091d7b33f573621be996768cf6e2 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn103.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 28 Minutes. "But they hurt me so," said the little mermaid. "Pride must suffer pain," replied the old lady. Oh, how gladly she would have shaken off all this grandeur, and laid aside the heavy wreath! The red flowers in her own garden would have suited her much better, but she could not help herself: so she said, "Farewell," and rose as lightly as a bubble to the surface of the water. The sun had just set as she raised her head above the waves; but the clouds were tinted with crimson and gold, and through the glimmering twilight beamed the evening star in all its beauty. The sea was calm, and the air mild and fresh. A large ship, with three masts, lay becalmed on the water, with only one sail set; for not a breeze stiffed, and the sailors sat idle on deck or amongst the rigging. There was music and song on board; and, as darkness came on, a hundred colored lanterns were lighted, as if the flags of all nations waved in the air. The little mermaid swam close to the cabin windows; and now and then, as the waves lifted her up, she could look in through clear glass window-panes, and see a number of well-dressed people within. Among them was a young prince, the most beautiful of all, with large black eyes; he was sixteen years of age, and his birthday was being kept with much rejoicing. The sailors were dancing on deck, but when the prince came out of the cabin, more than a hundred rockets rose in the air, making it as bright as day. The little mermaid was so startled that she dived under water; and when she again stretched out her head, it appeared as if all the stars of heaven were falling around her, she had never seen such fireworks before. Great suns spurted fire about, splendid fireflies flew into the blue air, and everything was reflected in the clear, calm sea beneath. The ship itself was so brightly illuminated that all the people, and even the smallest rope, could be distinctly and plainly seen. And how handsome the young prince looked, as he pressed the hands of all present and smiled at them, while the music resounded through the clear night air.', " It was very late; yet the little mermaid could not take her eyes from the ship, or from the beautiful prince. The colored lanterns had been extinguished, no more rockets rose in the air, and the cannon had ceased firing; but the sea became restless, and a moaning, grumbling sound could be heard beneath the waves: still the little mermaid remained by the cabin window, rocking up and down on the water, which enabled her to look in. After a while, the sails were quickly unfurled, and the noble ship continued her passage; but soon the waves rose higher, heavy clouds darkened the sky, and lightning appeared in the distance. A dreadful storm was approaching; once more the sails were reefed, and the great ship pursued her flying course over the raging sea. The waves rose mountains high, as if they would have overtopped the mast; but the ship dived like a swan between them, and then rose again on their lofty, foaming crests. To the little mermaid this appeared pleasant sport; not so to the sailors. At length the ship groaned and creaked; the thick planks gave way under the lashing of the sea as it broke over the deck; the mainmast snapped asunder like a reed; the ship lay over on her side; and the water rushed in. The little mermaid now perceived that the crew were in danger; even she herself was obliged to be careful to avoid the beams and planks of the wreck which lay scattered on the water. At one moment it was so pitch dark that she could not see a single object, but a flash of lightning revealed the whole scene; she could see every one who had been on board excepting the prince; when the ship parted, she had seen him sink into the deep waves, and she was glad, for she thought he would now be with her; and then she remembered that human beings could not live in the water, so that when he got down to her father's palace he would be quite dead. But he must not die. So she swam about among the beams and planks which strewed the surface of the sea, forgetting that they could crush her to pieces. Then she dived deeply under the dark waters, rising and falling with the waves, till at length she managed to reach the young prince, who was fast losing the power of swimming in that stormy sea. His limbs were failing him, his beautiful eyes were closed, and he would have died had not the little mermaid come to his assistance. She held his head above the water, and let the waves drift them where they would.", " In the morning the storm had ceased; but of the ship not a single fragment could be seen. The sun rose up red and glowing from the water, and its beams brought back the hue of health to the prince's cheeks; but his eyes remained closed. The mermaid kissed his high, smooth forehead, and stroked back his wet hair; he seemed to her like the marble statue in her little garden, and she kissed him again, and wished that he might live. Presently they came in sight of land; she saw lofty blue mountains, on which the white snow rested as if a flock of swans were lying upon them. Near the coast were beautiful green forests, and close by stood a large building, whether a church or a convent she could not tell. Orange and citron trees grew in the garden, and before the door stood lofty palms. The sea here formed a little bay, in which the water was quite still, but very deep; so she swam with the handsome prince to the beach, which was covered with fine, white sand, and there she laid him in the warm sunshine, taking care to raise his head higher than his body. Then bells sounded in the large white building, and a number of young girls came into the garden. The little mermaid swam out farther from the shore and placed herself between some high rocks that rose out of the water; then she covered her head and neck with the foam of the sea so that her little face might not be seen, and watched to see what would become of the poor prince. She did not wait long before she saw a young girl approach the spot where he lay. She seemed frightened at first, but only for a moment; then she fetched a number of people, and the mermaid saw that the prince came to life again, and smiled upon those who stood round him. But to her he sent no smile; he knew not that she had saved him. This made her very unhappy, and when he was led away into the great building, she dived down sorrowfully into the water, and returned to her father's castle. She had always been silent and thoughtful, and now she was more so than ever. Her sisters asked her what she had seen during her first visit to the surface of the water; but she would tell them nothing. Many an evening and morning did she rise to the place where she had left the prince. She saw the fruits in the garden ripen till they were gathered, the snow on the tops of the mountains melt away; but she never saw the prince, and therefore she returned home, always more sorrowful than before. It was her only comfort to sit in her own little garden, and fling her arm round the beautiful marble statue which was like the prince; but she gave up tending her flowers, and they grew in wild confusion over the paths, twining their long leaves and stems round the branches of the trees, so that the whole place became dark and gloomy. At length she could bear it no longer, and told one of her sisters all about it. Then the others heard the secret, and very soon it became known to two mermaids whose intimate friend happened to know who the prince was. She had also seen the festival on board ship, and she told them where the prince came from, and where his palace stood.", ' "Come, little sister," said the other princesses; then they entwined their arms and rose up in a long row to the surface of the water, close by the spot where they knew the prince\'s palace stood. It was built of bright yellow shining stone, with long flights of marble steps, one of which reached quite down to the sea. Splendid gilded cupolas rose over the roof, and between the pillars that surrounded the whole building stood life-like statues of marble. Through the clear crystal of the lofty windows could be seen noble rooms, with costly silk curtains and hangings of tapestry; while the walls were covered with beautiful paintings which were a pleasure to look at. In the centre of the largest saloon a fountain threw its sparkling jets high up into the glass cupola of the ceiling, through which the sun shone down upon the water and upon the beautiful plants growing round the basin of the fountain. Now that she knew where he lived, she spent many an evening and many a night on the water near the palace. She would swim much nearer the shore than any of the others ventured to do; indeed once she went quite up the narrow channel under the marble balcony, which threw a broad shadow on the water. Here she would sit and watch the young prince, who thought himself quite alone in the bright moonlight. She saw him many times of an evening sailing in a pleasant boat, with music playing and flags waving. She peeped out from among the green rushes, and if the wind caught her long silvery-white veil, those who saw it believed it to be a swan, spreading out its wings. On many a night, too, when the fishermen, with their torches, were out at sea, she heard them relate so many good things about the doings of the young prince, that she was glad she had saved his life when he had been tossed about half-dead on the waves. And she remembered that his head had rested on her bosom, and how heartily she had kissed him; but he knew nothing of all this, and could not even dream of her. She grew more and more fond of human beings, and wished more and more to be able to wander about with those whose world seemed to be so much larger than her own. They could fly over the sea in ships, and mount the high hills which were far above the clouds; and the lands they possessed, their woods and their fields, stretched far away beyond the reach of her sight. There was so much that she wished to know, and her sisters were unable to answer all her questions. Then she applied to her old grandmother, who knew all about the upper world, which she very rightly called the lands above the sea. "If human beings are not drowned," asked the little mermaid, "can they live forever? do they never die as we do here in the sea?" "Yes," replied the old lady, "they must also die, and their term of life is even shorter than ours. We sometimes live to three hundred years, but when we cease to exist here we only become the foam on the surface of the water, and we have not even a grave down here of those we love. We have not immortal souls, we shall never live again; but, like the green sea-weed, when once it has been cut off, we can never flourish more. Human beings, on the contrary, have a soul which lives forever, lives after the body has been turned to dust. It rises up through the clear, pure air beyond the glittering stars. As we rise out of the water, and behold all the land of the earth, so do they rise to unknown and glorious regions which we shall never see." "Why have not we an immortal soul?" asked the little mermaid mournfully; "I would give gladly all the hundreds of years that I have to live, to be a human being only for one day, and to have the hope of knowing the happiness of that glorious world above the stars." "You must not think of that," said the old woman; "we feel ourselves to be much happier and much better off than human beings." "So I shall die," said the little mermaid, "and as the foam of the sea I shall be driven about never again to hear the music of the waves, or to see the pretty flowers nor the red sun. Is there anything I can do to win an immortal soul?" "No," said the old woman, "unless a man were to love you so much that you were more to him than his father or mother; and if all his thoughts and all his love were fixed upon you, and the priest placed his right hand in yours, and he promised to be true to you here and hereafter, then his soul would glide into your body and you would obtain a share in the future happiness of mankind. He would give a soul to you and retain his own as well; but this can never happen. Your fish\'s tail, which amongst us is considered so beautiful, is thought on earth to be quite ugly; they do not know any better, and they think it necessary to have two stout props, which they call legs, in order to be handsome." Then the little mermaid sighed, and looked sorrowfully at her fish\'s tail. "Let us be happy," said the old lady, "and dart and spring about during the three hundred years that we have to live, which is really quite long enough; after that we can rest ourselves all the better. This evening we are going to have a court ball." It is one of those splendid sights which we can never see on earth. The walls and the ceiling of the large ball-room were of thick, but transparent crystal. May hundreds of colossal shells, some of a deep red, others of a grass green, stood on each side in rows, with blue fire in them, which lighted up the whole saloon, and shone through the walls, so that the sea was also illuminated. Innumerable fishes, great and small, swam past the crystal walls; on some of them the scales glowed with a purple brilliancy, and on others they shone like silver and gold. Through the halls flowed a broad stream, and in it danced the mermen and the mermaids to the music of their own sweet singing. No one on earth has such a lovely voice as theirs. The little mermaid sang more sweetly than them all. The whole court applauded her with hands and tails; and for a moment her heart felt quite gay, for she knew she had the loveliest voice of any on earth or in the sea. But she soon thought again of the world above her, for she could not forget the charming prince, nor her sorrow that she had not an immortal soul like his; therefore she crept away silently out of her father\'s palace, and while everything within was gladness and song, she sat in her own little garden sorrowful and alone. Then she heard the bugle sounding through the water, and thought- "He is certainly sailing above, he on whom my wishes depend, and in whose hands I should like to place the happiness of my life. I will venture all for him, and to win an immortal soul, while my sisters are dancing in my father\'s palace, I will go to the sea witch, of whom I have always been so much afraid, but she can give me counsel and help." And then the little mermaid went out from her garden, and took the road to the foaming whirlpools, behind which the sorceress lived. She had never been that way before: neither flowers nor grass grew there; nothing but bare, gray, sandy ground stretched out to the whirlpool, where the water, like foaming mill-wheels, whirled round everything that it seized, and cast it into the fathomless deep. Through the midst of these crushing whirlpools the little mermaid was obliged to pass, to reach the dominions of the sea witch; and also for a long distance the only road lay right across a quantity of warm, bubbling mire, called by the witch her turfmoor. Beyond this stood her house, in the centre of a strange forest, in which all the trees and flowers were polypi, half animals and half plants; they looked like serpents with a hundred heads growing out of the ground. The branches were long slimy arms, with fingers like flexible worms, moving limb after limb from the root to the top. All that could be reached in the sea they seized upon, and held fast, so that it never escaped from their clutches. The little mermaid was so alarmed at what she saw, that she stood still, and her heart beat with fear, and she was very nearly turning back; but she thought of the prince, and of the human soul for which she longed, and her courage returned. She fastened her long flowing hair round her head, so that the polypi might not seize hold of it. She laid her hands together across her bosom, and then she darted forward as a fish shoots through the water, between the supple arms and fingers of the ugly polypi, which were stretched out on each side of her. She saw that each held in its grasp something it had seized with its numerous little arms, as if they were iron bands. The white skeletons of human beings who had perished at sea, and had sunk down into the deep waters, skeletons of land animals, oars, rudders, and chests of ships were lying tightly grasped by their clinging arms; even a little mermaid, whom they had caught and strangled; and this seemed the most shocking of all to the little princess. She now came to a space of marshy ground in the wood, where large, fat water-snakes were rolling in the mire, and showing their ugly, drab-colored bodies. In the midst of this spot stood a house, built with the bones of shipwrecked human beings. There sat the sea witch, allowing a toad to eat from her mouth, just as people sometimes feed a canary with a piece of sugar. She called the ugly water-snakes her little chickens, and allowed them to crawl all over her bosom. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn104.txt b/text/sn104.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7db46c14065169be5f69549d9fe0ff3d3d2d1acd --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn104.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Sea Witch helps The Little Mermaid become human so that she can visit her prince - but she extracts a terrible price. The Little Mermaid must give up her lovely voice. If the Prince marries another, she will die. But she loves him so much that she is ready to make the sacrifice. The ending is NOT the "Disney" version, and by the end perhaps you will agree that it is not always wise to give up everything for love. Although it might make you cry (be warned) it is still one of the most beautiful fairy tales ever written. "I know what you want," said the sea witch; "it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess. You want to get rid of your fish\'s tail, and to have two supports instead of it, like human beings on earth, so that the young prince may fall in love with you, and that you may have an immortal soul." And then the witch laughed so loud and disgustingly, that the toad and the snakes fell to the ground, and lay there wriggling about. "You are but just in time," said the witch; "for after sunrise to-morrow I should not be able to help you till the end of another year. I will prepare a draught for you, with which you must swim to land tomorrow before sunrise, and sit down on the shore and drink it. Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you." "Yes, I will," said the little princess in a trembling voice, as she thought of the prince and the immortal soul. "But think again," said the witch; "for when once your shape has become like a human being, you can no more be a mermaid. You will never return through the water to your sisters, or to your father\'s palace again; and if you do not win the love of the prince, so that he is willing to forget his father and mother for your sake, and to love you with his whole soul, and allow the priest to join your hands that you may be man and wife, then you will never have an immortal soul. The first morning after he marries another your heart will break, and you will become foam on the crest of the waves." "I will do it," said the little mermaid, and she became pale as death. "But I must be paid also," said the witch, "and it is not a trifle that I ask. You have the sweetest voice of any who dwell here in the depths of the sea, and you believe that you will be able to charm the prince with it also, but this voice you must give to me; the best thing you possess will I have for the price of my draught. My own blood must be mixed with it, that it may be as sharp as a two-edged sword." "But if you take away my voice," said the little mermaid, "what is left for me?" "Your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a man\'s heart. Well, have you lost your courage? Put out your little tongue that I may cut it off as my payment; then you shall have the powerful draught." "It shall be," said the little mermaid. Then the witch placed her cauldron on the fire, to prepare the magic draught. "Cleanliness is a good thing," said she, scouring the vessel with snakes, which she had tied together in a large knot; then she pricked herself in the breast, and let the black blood drop into it. The steam that rose formed itself into such horrible shapes that no one could look at them without fear. Every moment the witch threw something else into the vessel, and when it began to boil, the sound was like the weeping of a crocodile. When at last the magic draught was ready, it looked like the clearest water. "There it is for you," said the witch. Then she cut off the mermaid\'s tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again speak or sing. "If the polypi should seize hold of you as you return through the wood," said the witch, "throw over them a few drops of the potion, and their fingers will be torn into a thousand pieces." But the little mermaid had no occasion to do this, for the polypi sprang back in terror when they caught sight of the glittering draught, which shone in her hand like a twinkling star.', " So she passed quickly through the wood and the marsh, and between the rushing whirlpools. She saw that in her father's palace the torches in the ballroom were extinguished, and all within asleep; but she did not venture to go in to them, for now she was dumb and going to leave them forever, she felt as if her heart would break. She stole into the garden, took a flower from the flower-beds of each of her sisters, kissed her hand a thousand times towards the palace, and then rose up through the dark blue waters. The sun had not risen when she came in sight of the prince's palace, and approached the beautiful marble steps, but the moon shone clear and bright. Then the little mermaid drank the magic draught, and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead. When the sun arose and shone over the sea, she recovered, and felt a sharp pain; but just before her stood the handsome young prince. He fixed his coal-black eyes upon her so earnestly that she cast down her own, and then became aware that her fish's tail was gone, and that she had as pretty a pair of white legs and tiny feet as any little maiden could have; but she had no clothes, so she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair. The prince asked her who she was, and where she came from, and she looked at him mildly and sorrowfully with her deep blue eyes; but she could not speak. Every step she took was as the witch had said it would be, she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives; but she bore it willingly, and stepped as lightly by the prince's side as a soap-bubble, so that he and all who saw her wondered at her graceful-swaying movements. She was very soon arrayed in costly robes of silk and muslin, and was the most beautiful creature in the palace; but she was dumb, and could neither speak nor sing.", ' Beautiful female slaves, dressed in silk and gold, stepped forward and sang before the prince and his royal parents: one sang better than all the others, and the prince clapped his hands and smiled at her. This was great sorrow to the little mermaid; she knew how much more sweetly she herself could sing once, and she thought, "Oh if he could only know that! I have given away my voice forever, to be with him." The slaves next performed some pretty fairy-like dances, to the sound of beautiful music. Then the little mermaid raised her lovely white arms, stood on the tips of her toes, and glided over the floor, and danced as no one yet had been able to dance. At each moment her beauty became more revealed, and her expressive eyes appealed more directly to the heart than the songs of the slaves. Every one was enchanted, especially the prince, who called her his little foundling; and she danced again quite readily, to please him, though each time her foot touched the floor it seemed as if she trod on sharp knives.', " The prince said she should remain with him always, and she received permission to sleep at his door, on a velvet cushion. He had a page's dress made for her, that she might accompany him on horseback. They rode together through the sweet-scented woods, where the green boughs touched their shoulders, and the little birds sang among the fresh leaves. She climbed with the prince to the tops of high mountains; and although her tender feet bled so that even her steps were marked, she only laughed, and followed him till they could see the clouds beneath them looking like a flock of birds travelling to distant lands. While at the prince's palace, and when all the household were asleep, she would go and sit on the broad marble steps; for it eased her burning feet to bathe them in the cold sea-water; and then she thought of all those below in the deep.", ' Once during the night her sisters came up arm-in-arm, singing sorrowfully, as they floated on the water. She beckoned to them, and then they recognized her, and told her how she had grieved them. After that, they came to the same place every night; and once she saw in the distance her old grandmother, who had not been to the surface of the sea for many years, and the old Sea King, her father, with his crown on his head. They stretched out their hands towards her, but they did not venture so near the land as her sisters did. As the days passed, she loved the prince more fondly, and he loved her as he would love a little child, but it never came into his head to make her his wife; yet, unless he married her, she could not receive an immortal soul; and, on the morning after his marriage with another, she would dissolve into the foam of the sea. "Do you not love me the best of them all?" the eyes of the little mermaid seemed to say, when he took her in his arms, and kissed her fair forehead. "Yes, you are dear to me," said the prince; "for you have the best heart, and you are the most devoted to me; you are like a young maiden whom I once saw, but whom I shall never meet again. I was in a ship that was wrecked, and the waves cast me ashore near a holy temple, where several young maidens performed the service. The youngest of them found me on the shore, and saved my life. I saw her but twice, and she is the only one in the world whom I could love; but you are like her, and you have almost driven her image out of my mind. She belongs to the holy temple, and my good fortune has sent you to me instead of her; and we will never part." "Ah, he knows not that it was I who saved his life," thought the little mermaid. "I carried him over the sea to the wood where the temple stands: I sat beneath the foam, and watched till the human beings came to help him. I saw the pretty maiden that he loves better than he loves me;" and the mermaid sighed deeply, but she could not shed tears. "He says the maiden belongs to the holy temple, therefore she will never return to the world. They will meet no more: while I am by his side, and see him every day. I will take care of him, and love him, and give up my life for his sake."', " Very soon it was said that the prince must marry, and that the beautiful daughter of a neighboring king would be his wife, for a fine ship was being fitted out. Although the prince gave out that he merely intended to pay a visit to the king, it was generally supposed that he really went to see his daughter. A great company were to go with him. The little mermaid smiled, and shook her head. She knew the prince's thoughts better than any of the others.", ' "I must travel," he had said to her; "I must see this beautiful princess; my parents desire it; but they will not oblige me to bring her home as my bride. I cannot love her; she is not like the beautiful maiden in the temple, whom you resemble. If I were forced to choose a bride, I would rather choose you, my dumb foundling, with those expressive eyes." And then he kissed her rosy mouth, played with her long waving hair, and laid his head on her heart, while she dreamed of human happiness and an immortal soul. "You are not afraid of the sea, my dumb child," said he, as they stood on the deck of the noble ship which was to carry them to the country of the neighboring king. And then he told her of storm and of calm, of strange fishes in the deep beneath them, and of what the divers had seen there; and she smiled at his descriptions, for she knew better than any one what wonders were at the bottom of the sea.', " In the moonlight, when all on board were asleep, excepting the man at the helm, who was steering, she sat on the deck, gazing down through the clear water. She thought she could distinguish her father's castle, and upon it her aged grandmother, with the silver crown on her head, looking through the rushing tide at the keel of the vessel. Then her sisters came up on the waves, and gazed at her mournfully, wringing their white hands. She beckoned to them, and smiled, and wanted to tell them how happy and well off she was; but the cabin-boy approached, and when her sisters dived down he thought it was only the foam of the sea which he saw.", ' The next morning the ship sailed into the harbor of a beautiful town belonging to the king whom the prince was going to visit. The church bells were ringing, and from the high towers sounded a flourish of trumpets; and soldiers, with flying colors and glittering bayonets, lined the rocks through which they passed. Every day was a festival; balls and entertainments followed one another. But the princess had not yet appeared. People said that she was being brought up and educated in a religious house, where she was learning every royal virtue. At last she came. Then the little mermaid, who was very anxious to see whether she was really beautiful, was obliged to acknowledge that she had never seen a more perfect vision of beauty. Her skin was delicately fair, and beneath her long dark eye-lashes her laughing blue eyes shone with truth and purity. "It was you," said the prince, "who saved my life when I lay dead on the beach," and he folded his blushing bride in his arms. "Oh, I am too happy," said he to the little mermaid; "my fondest hopes are all fulfilled. You will rejoice at my happiness; for your devotion to me is great and sincere."', " The little mermaid kissed his hand, and felt as if her heart were already broken. His wedding morning would bring death to her, and she would change into the foam of the sea. All the church bells rung, and the heralds rode about the town proclaiming the betrothal. Perfumed oil was burning in costly silver lamps on every altar. The priests waved the censers, while the bride and bridegroom joined their hands and received the blessing of the bishop. The little mermaid, dressed in silk and gold, held up the bride's train; but her ears heard nothing of the festive music, and her eyes saw not the holy ceremony; she thought of the night of death which was coming to her, and of all she had lost in the world. On the same evening the bride and bridegroom went on board ship; cannons were roaring, flags waving, and in the centre of the ship a costly tent of purple and gold had been erected. It contained elegant couches, for the reception of the bridal pair during the night. The ship, with swelling sails and a favorable wind, glided away smoothly and lightly over the calm sea. When it grew dark a number of colored lamps were lit, and the sailors danced merrily on the deck. The little mermaid could not help thinking of her first rising out of the sea, when she had seen similar festivities and joys; and she joined in the dance, poised herself in the air as a swallow when he pursues his prey, and all present cheered her with wonder. She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart. She knew this was the last evening she should ever see the prince, for whom she had forsaken her kindred and her home; she had given up her beautiful voice, and suffered unheard-of pain daily for him, while he knew nothing of it. This was the last evening that she would breathe the same air with him, or gaze on the starry sky and the deep sea; an eternal night, without a thought or a dream, awaited her: she had no soul and now she could never win one. All was joy and gayety on board ship till long after midnight; she laughed and danced with the rest, while the thoughts of death were in her heart. The prince kissed his beautiful bride, while she played with his raven hair, till they went arm-in-arm to rest in the splendid tent. Then all became still on board the ship; the helmsman, alone awake, stood at the helm. The little mermaid leaned her white arms on the edge of the vessel, and looked towards the east for the first blush of morning, for that first ray of dawn that would bring her death. She saw her sisters rising out of the flood: they were as pale as herself; but their long beautiful hair waved no more in the wind, and had been cut off.", ' "We have given our hair to the witch," said they, "to obtain help for you, that you may not die to-night. She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet they will grow together again, and form into a fish\'s tail, and you will be once more a mermaid, and return to us to live out your three hundred years before you die and change into the salt sea foam. Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise. Our old grandmother moans so for you, that her white hair is falling off from sorrow, as ours fell under the witch\'s scissors. Kill the prince and come back; hasten: do you not see the first red streaks in the sky? In a few minutes the sun will rise, and you must die." And then they sighed deeply and mournfully, and sank down beneath the waves. The little mermaid drew back the crimson curtain of the tent, and beheld the fair bride with her head resting on the prince\'s breast. She bent down and kissed his fair brow, then looked at the sky on which the rosy dawn grew brighter and brighter; then she glanced at the sharp knife, and again fixed her eyes on the prince, who whispered the name of his bride in his dreams. She was in his thoughts, and the knife trembled in the hand of the little mermaid: then she flung it far away from her into the waves; the water turned red where it fell, and the drops that spurted up looked like blood. She cast one more lingering, half-fainting glance at the prince, and then threw herself from the ship into the sea, and thought her body was dissolving into foam. The sun rose above the waves, and his warm rays fell on the cold foam of the little mermaid, who did not feel as if she were dying. She saw the bright sun, and all around her floated hundreds of transparent beautiful beings; she could see through them the white sails of the ship, and the red clouds in the sky; their speech was melodious, but too ethereal to be heard by mortal ears, as they were also unseen by mortal eyes. The little mermaid perceived that she had a body like theirs, and that she continued to rise higher and higher out of the foam. "Where am I?" asked she, and her voice sounded ethereal, as the voice of those who were with her; no earthly music could imitate it. "Among the daughters of the air," answered one of them. "A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny. But the daughters of the air, although they do not possess an immortal soul, can, by their good deeds, procure one for themselves. We fly to warm countries, and cool the sultry air that destroys mankind with the pestilence. We carry the perfume of the flowers to spread health and restoration. After we have striven for three hundred years to all the good in our power, we receive an immortal soul and take part in the happiness of mankind. You, poor little mermaid, have tried with your whole heart to do as we are doing; you have suffered and endured and raised yourself to the spirit-world by your good deeds; and now, by striving for three hundred years in the same way, you may obtain an immortal soul." The little mermaid lifted her glorified eyes towards the sun, and felt them, for the first time, filling with tears. On the ship, in which she had left the prince, there were life and noise; she saw him and his beautiful bride searching for her; sorrowfully they gazed at the pearly foam, as if they knew she had thrown herself into the waves. Unseen she kissed the forehead of her bride, and fanned the prince, and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether. "After three hundred years, thus shall we float into the kingdom of heaven," said she. "And we may even get there sooner," whispered one of her companions. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn105.txt b/text/sn105.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ba11c7f3b4667125346fa984f3ff567b2eb1b894 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn105.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +There was once a woman who wanted to have quite a tiny, little child, but she did not know where to get one from. So one day she went to an old witch and said to her, "I should so much like to have a tiny, little child. Can you tell me where I can get one?" "Oh, we have just got one ready!" Said the witch. "Here is a barley-corn for you, but it’s not the kind the farmer sows in his field, or feeds the cocks and hens with, I can tell you. Put it in a flowerpot, and then you will see something happen." "Oh, thank you!" Said the woman, and gave the witch a shilling, for that was what it cost. Then she went home and planted the barley-corn. Immediately there grew out of it a large and beautiful flower, which looked like a tulip, but the petals were tightly closed as if it were still only a bud. "What a beautiful flower!" Exclaimed the woman, and she kissed the red and yellow petals; but as she kissed them the flower burst open. It was a real tulip, such as one can see any day, but in the middle of the blossom, on the green velvety petals, sat a little girl; quite tiny, trim, and pretty. She was scarcely half a thumb in height and so they called her Thumbelina. An elegant polished walnut-shell served Thumbelina as a cradle, the blue petals of a violet were her mattress, and a rose-leaf her cover-lid. There she lay at night, but in the daytime she used to play about on the table; here the woman had put a bowl surrounded by a ring of flowers, with their stalks in water, in the middle of which floated a great tulip petal. On this Thumbelina sat and sailed from one side of the bowl to the other, rowing herself with two white horse-hairs for oars. It was such a pretty sight! She could sing too, with a voice more soft and sweet than had ever been heard before. One night, when she was lying in her pretty little bed, an old toad crept in through a broken pane in the window. She was very ugly, clumsy, and clammy; she hopped on to the table where Thumbelina lay asleep under the red rose-leaf. "This would make a beautiful wife for my son," said the toad, taking up the walnut-shell, with Thumbelina inside, and went hopping with it through the window into the garden. There flowed a great wide stream, with slippery and marshy banks; here the toad lived with her son. Ugh! How ugly and clammy he was, just like his mother! "Croak, croak, croak!" Was all he could say when he saw the pretty little girl in the walnut-shell. "Don’t talk so loud, or you’ll wake her," said the old toad. "She might escape us even now; she is as light as a feather. We will put her at once on a broad water lily leaf in the stream. That will be quite an island for her; she is so small and light. She can’t run away from us there, whilst we are preparing the guest-chamber under the marsh where she shall live." Outside in the brook grew many water lilies, with broad green leaves, which looked as if they were swimming about on the water. The leaf furthest away was the largest, and to this the old toad swam with Thumbelina in her walnut-shell. The tiny Thumbelina woke up very early in the morning, and when she saw where she was she began to cry bitterly; for on every side of the great green leaf was water, and she could not get to the land. The old toad was down under the marsh, decorating her room with rushes and yellow marigold leaves, to make it very grand for her new daughter-in-law; then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf where Thumbelina lay. She wanted to fetch the pretty cradle to put it into her room before Thumbelina herself came there. The old toad bowed low in the water before her, and said, "Here is my son - you shall marry him, and live in great magnificence down under the marsh." "Croak, croak, croak," was all that the son could say. Then they took the neat little cradle and swam away with it; but Thumbelina sat alone on the great green leaf and weeped, for she did not want to live with the clammy toad, or marry her ugly son. The little fishes swimming about under the water had seen the toad quite plainly, and heard what she had said, so they put up their heads to see the little girl. When they saw her, they thought her so pretty that they were very sorry she should go down with the ugly toad to live. No, that must not happen. They assembled in the water around the green stalk which supported the leaf on which she was sitting, and nibbled the stem in two. Away floated the leaf down the stream, bearing Thumbelina far beyond the reach of the toad. On she sailed past several towns, and the little birds sitting in the bushes saw her, and sang, "What a pretty little girl!" The leaf floated farther and farther away; thus Thumbelina left her native land. A beautiful little white butterfly fluttered above her, and at last settled on the leaf. Thumbelina pleased him, and she too was delighted, for now the toads could not reach her, and it was so beautiful where she was travelling; the sun shone on the water and made it sparkle like the brightest silver. She took off her sash, and tied one end around the butterfly; the other end she fastened to the leaf so that now it glided along with her faster than ever. A great chaffinch came flying past. He caught sight of Thumbelina, and in a moment had put his arms around her slender waist, and had flown off with her to a tree. The green leaf floated away down the stream, and the butterfly with it, for he was fastened to the leaf and could not get loose from it. Oh, dear! How terrified poor little Thumbelina was when the chaffinch flew off with her to the tree! But she was especially distressed on the beautiful white butterfly’s account, as she had tied him fast, so that if he could not get away he must starve to death. But the chaffinch did not trouble himself about that; he sat down with her on a large green leaf, gave her the honey out of the flowers to eat, and told her that she was very pretty, although she wasn’t in the least like a chaffinch. Later on, all the other chaffinches who lived in the same tree came to pay calls. They examined Thumbelina closely, and remarked, "How very miserable!" "She has no feelers!" Cried another. "How ugly she is!" Said all the lady chafers – and yet Thumbelina was really very pretty. The chaffinch who had stolen her knew this very well; but when he heard all the ladies saying she was ugly, he began to think so too, and would not keep her; she might go wherever she liked. So he flew down from the tree with her and put her on a daisy. There she sat and wept, because she was so ugly that the chaffinch would have nothing to do with her; and yet she was the most beautiful creature imaginable, so soft and delicate, like the loveliest rose-leaf. The whole summer poor little Thumbelina lived alone in the great wood. She plaited a bed for herself of blades of grass, and hung it up under a clover leaf, so that she was protected from the rain; she gathered honey from the flowers for food, and drank the dew on the leaves every morning. Thus the summer and autumn passed, but then came winter – the long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung so sweetly about her had flown away; the trees shed their leaves, the flowers died and the great clover leaf under which she had lived curled up, and nothing remained of it but the withered stalk. She was terribly cold, for her clothes were ragged, and she herself was so small and thin. Poor little Thumbelina! She would surely be frozen to death. It began to snow, and every snowflake that fell on her was to her as a whole shovelful thrown on one of us, for we are so big and she was only an inch high. She wrapped herself up in a dead leaf, but it was torn in the middle and gave her no warmth; she was trembling with cold. Just outside the wood where she was now living lay a great cornfield, but the corn had been gone a long time and only the dry, bare stubble was left standing in the frozen ground. This made a forest for her to wander about in. All at once she came across the door of a field mouse, who had a little hole under a corn stalk. There the mouse lived warm and snug; with a store room full of corn, a splendid kitchen and dining room. Poor little Thumbelina went up to the door and begged for a little piece of barley, for she had not had anything to eat for the last two days. "Poor little creature!" said the field mouse, for she was a kind-hearted old thing at the bottom. "Come into my warm room and have some dinner with me." As Thumbelina pleased her, she said, "As far as I am concerned you may spend the winter with me; but you must keep my room clean and tidy, and tell me stories, for I like that very much." Thumbelina did all that the kind old field mouse asked, and did it remarkably well too. "Now I am expecting a visitor," said the field mouse, "my neighbour comes to call on me once a week. He is in better circumstances than I am, has great, big rooms, and wears a fine black-velvet coat. If you could only marry him, you would be well provided for - but he is blind. You must tell him all the prettiest stories you know." But Thumbelina did not trouble her head about him, for he was only a mole. He came and paid them a visit in his black-velvet coat. "He is so rich and so accomplished," the field mouse told her. "His house is twenty times larger than mine. He possesses great knowledge, but he cannot bear the sun and the beautiful flowers, and speaks slightingly of them, for he has never seen them."', "Thumbelina had to sing to him, so she sang, 'Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home!' and other songs so prettily that the mole fell in love with her; but he did not say anything as he was a very cautious man. A short time before he had dug a long passage through the ground from his own house to that of his neighbour; in this he gave the fieldmouse and Thumbelina permission to walk as often as they liked. He begged them not to be afraid of the dead bird that lay in the passage: It was a real bird with beak and feathers, and must have died a little time ago, and now laid buried just where he had made his tunnel. The mole took a piece of rotten wood in his mouth, for that glows like fire in the dark, and went in front - lighting them through the long dark passage. When they came to the place where the dead bird lay, the mole put his broad nose against the ceiling and pushed a hole through, so that the daylight could shine down. In the middle of the path lay a dead swallow, his pretty wings pressed close to his sides, his claws and head drawn under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently died of the cold. Thumbelina was very sorry, for she was very fond of all little birds; they had sung and twittered so beautifully to her all through the summer. ", 'But the mole kicked him with his bandy legs and said, "Now he can’t sing any more! It must be very miserable to be a little bird! I’m thankful that none of my little children are; birds always starve in winter." "Yes, you speak like a sensible man," said the field mouse. "What has a bird, in spite of all his singing, in the wintertime? He must starve and freeze, and that must be very pleasant for him, I must say!" Thumbelina did not say anything, but when the other two had passed on she bent down to the bird, brushed aside the feathers from his head, and kissed his closed eyes gently. "Perhaps it was he that sang to me so prettily in the summer," she thought. "How much pleasure he did give me, dear little bird!" The mole closed up the hole again which let in the light, and then escorted the ladies home. But Thumbelina could not sleep that night, so she got out of bed and plaited a great big blanket of straw and carried it off, spread it over the dead bird, and piled upon it thistledown as soft as cotton wool, which she had found in the fieldmouse’s room, so that the poor little thing should lie warmly buried. "Farewell, pretty little bird!" She said. "Farewell, and thank you for your beautiful songs in the summer, when the trees were green and the sun shone down warmly on us!" Then she laid her head against the bird’s heart. But the bird was not dead: he had been frozen, but now that she had warmed him, he was coming to life again. In autumn the swallows fly away to foreign lands; but there are some who are late in starting, and then they get so cold that they drop down as if dead, and the snow comes and covers them over. Thumbelina trembled, she was so frightened for the bird was very large in comparison with herself – only an inch high. But she took courage, piled up the down more closely over the poor swallow, fetched her own cover-lid and laid it over his head. Next night she crept out again to him. There he was alive, but very weak; he could only open his eyes for a moment to look at Thumbelina, who was standing in front of him with a piece of rotten wood in her hand, for she had no other lantern. "Thank you, pretty little child," said the swallow to her. "I am so beautifully warm! Soon I shall regain my strength, and then I shall be able to fly out again into the warm sunshine." "Oh!" She said, "it is very cold outside; it is snowing and freezing! Stay in your warm bed - I will take care of you!" Then she brought him water in a petal, which he drank, after which he related to her how he had torn one of his wings on a bramble, so that he could not fly as fast as the other swallows, who had flown far away to warmer lands. So at last he had dropped down exhausted, and then he could remember no more. The whole winter he remained down there, and Thumbelina looked after him and nursed him tenderly. Neither the mole nor the field mouse learned anything of this, for they could not bear the poor swallow. When the spring came and the sun warmed the earth again, the swallow said farewell to Thumbelina, who opened the hole in the roof for him which the mole had made. The sun shone brightly down upon her, and the swallow asked her if she would go with him - she could sit upon his back. Thumbelina wanted very much to fly far away into the green wood, but she knew that the old field mouse would be sad if she ran away. "No, I mustn’t come!" She said. "Farewell, dear good little girl!" said the swallow, and flew off into the sunshine. Thumbelina gazed after him with the tears standing in her eyes, for she was very fond of the swallow. "Tweet, tweet," sang the bird, and flew into the green wood. Thumbelina was very unhappy. She was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn which had been sowed in the field over the fieldmouse’s home grew up high into the air, and made a thick forest for the poor little girl, who was only an inch high. "Now you are to be a bride, Thumbelina!" Said the field mouse, "For our neighbour has proposed to you! What a piece of fortune for a poor child like you! Now you must set to work at your linen for your dowry, for nothing must be lacking if you are to become the wife of our neighbour, the mole!" Thumbelina had to spin all day long, and every evening the mole visited her, and told her that when the summer was over the sun would not shine so hot; now it was burning the earth as hard as a stone. Yes, when the summer had passed, they would keep the wedding. But she was not at all pleased about it, for she did not like the stupid mole. Every morning when the sun was rising, and every evening when it was setting, she would steal out of the house-door, and when the breeze parted the ears of corn so that she could see the blue sky through them, she thought how bright and beautiful it must be outside, and longed to see her dear swallow again. But he never came; no doubt he had flown away far into the great green wood. By the autumn Thumbelina had finished the dowry. "In four weeks you will be married!" Said the field mouse. "Don’t be obstinate, or I shall bite you with my sharp white teeth! You will get a fine husband! The king himself has not such a velvet coat. His storeroom and cellar are full, and you should be thankful for that." Well, the wedding day arrived. The mole had come to fetch Thumbelina to live with him deep down under the ground, never to come out into the warm sun again, for that was what he didn’t like. The poor little girl was very sad; for now she must say goodbye to the beautiful sun. "Farewell, bright sun!" She cried, stretching out her arms towards it, and taking another step outside the house; for now the corn had been reaped, and only the dry stubble was left standing. "Farewell, farewell," she said, and put her arms around a little red flower that grew there. "Give my love to the dear swallow when you see him!" "Tweet, tweet!" Sounded in her ear all at once. She looked up. There was the swallow flying past! As soon as he saw Thumbelina, he was very glad. She told him how unwilling she was to marry the ugly mole, as then she had to live underground where the sun never shone, and she could not help bursting into tears. "The cold winter is coming now," said the swallow. "I must fly away to warmer lands, will you come with me? You can sit on my back, and we will fly far away from the ugly mole and his dark house, over the mountains, to the warm countries where the sun shines more brightly than here, where it is always summer, and there are always beautiful flowers. Do come with me, dear little Thumbelina, who saved my life when I lay frozen in the dark tunnel!" "Yes, I will go with you," said Thumbelina, and got on the swallow’s back, with her feet on one of his outstretched wings. Up he flew into the air, over woods and seas, over the great mountains where the snow is always lying. If she was cold she crept under his warm feathers, only keeping her little head out to admire all the beautiful things in the world beneath. At last they came to warm lands; there the sun was brighter, the sky seemed twice as high, and in the hedges hung the finest green and purple grapes. In the woods grew oranges and lemons; the air was scented with myrtle and mint, and on the roads were pretty little children running about and playing with great gorgeous butterflies. But the swallow flew on farther, and it became more and more beautiful. Under the most splendid green trees besides a blue lake stood a glittering white-marble castle. Vines hung about the high pillars; there were many swallows’ nests, and in one of these lived the swallow who was carrying Thumbelina. "Here is my house!" Said he. "But it won’t do for you to live with me; I am not tidy enough to please you. Find a home for yourself in one of the lovely flowers that grow down there. Now I will set you down, and you can do whatever you like." "That will be splendid!" Said she, clapping her little hands. There lay a great white marble column which had fallen to the ground and broken into three pieces, but between these grew the most beautiful white flowers. The swallow flew down with Thumbelina, and set her upon one of the broad leaves. But there, to her astonishment, she found a tiny little man sitting in the middle of the flower, as white and transparent as if he were made of glass. He had the prettiest golden crown on his head, and the most beautiful wings on his shoulders. He himself was no bigger than Thumbelina. He was the spirit of the flower. In each blossom there dwelled a tiny man or woman; but this one was the king over the others. "How handsome he is!" Whispered Thumbelina to the swallow. The little prince was very much frightened at the swallow, for in comparison with one so tiny as himself he seemed a giant. But when he saw Thumbelina, he was delighted, for she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. So he took his golden crown from off his head and put it on hers, asking her her name, and if she would be his wife - then she would be queen of all the flowers. Yes! He was a different kind of husband to the son of the toad and the mole with the black-velvet coat. So she said, "Yes," to the noble prince. Out of each flower came a lady and gentleman, each so tiny and pretty that it was a pleasure to see them. Each brought Thumbelina a present, but the best of all was a beautiful pair of wings which were fastened on to her back, and now she too could fly from flower to flower. They all wished her joy, and the swallow sat above in his nest and sang the wedding march, and that he did as well as he could; but he was sad, because he was very fond of Thumbelina and did not want to be separated from her. "You shall not be called Thumbelina!" Said the spirit of the flower to her. "That is an ugly name, and you are much too pretty for that. We will call you May Blossom." "Farewell, farewell!" Said the little swallow with a heavy heart, and flew away to farther lands; far, far away, right back to Denmark. There he had a little nest above a window, where his wife lived, who can tell fairy stories. "Tweet, tweet," he sang to her. And that is the way we learned the whole story. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn106.txt b/text/sn106.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1af1a0fc981ea300df5aa2fcb079d7a7b7fb18c7 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn106.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Sit back and enjoy this longish story with sound effects. The music is the Dance of the Hours by Ponchielli. 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 travelled 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 travellers, 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 travelled 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? 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 endeavour to find her.” But where was the nightingale to be found? The nobleman went upstairs 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 favour 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 downstairs, 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 grey 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 colour 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 favour 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, around 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 grey 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 honour with thanks as 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 honour 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 anyone, so that they might fancy themselves nightingales. 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. Around 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.” 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 persons 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 everyone 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 China-man 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 around 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. 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. 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? 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.” 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 around 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. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn107.txt b/text/sn107.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..73b886fed98b20e7660afbb45e93bc57efcf7396 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn107.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio 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 debris 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. 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, burned 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 around the prince’s head, and the clouds around — were they formed by the smoke rising up from the burned 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 around 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 burned 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. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn108.txt b/text/sn108.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..575485ee347f5363e8f2bf410eaf2352382f91f2 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn108.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Sleeping Beauty - Once upon a time, there lived a king and a queen, who had no children. They were so sorry about having no children, that I cannot tell you how sorry they were. At last, however, after many years, the queen had a daughter. There was a very fine christening for the baby princess. The king and queen looked throughout the kingdom for fairies to be her godmothers, and they found seven fairies. Each fairy godmother was to give the princess a gift, as was the custom of fairies in those days. In this way, the princess had all the perfections imaginable. After the christening ceremony was over, the whole party returned to the king’s palace, where there was prepared a great feast for the seven fairy godmothers. There was placed before each one of them a magnificent case of gold, in which were a spoon, knife, and fork; all of pure gold set with diamonds and rubies. But as everyone was sitting down at the table, they saw come into the hall a very old fairy, whom they had not invited, because she had not left the tower where she lived for over fifty years, and she was believed to be either dead or under an evil spell. The king could not give her a case of gold as the others had been given, because they had only seven made for the seven fairies. The old fairy felt insulted and muttered some threats between her teeth. One of the young fairies who sat by her overheard how she grumbled; and guessing that she might give the little princess an unlucky gift, went, as soon as they rose from table, and hid behind the curtains, so that she might make the last wish for the little princess, and use it to put right any evil that the old fairy might do with her magic spell. Meanwhile, all the fairies began to give their gifts to the princess. The youngest wished that she should be the most beautiful person in the world. The next, that she should have the intelligence of an angel. The third, that she should have a wonderful grace in everything she did. The fourth, that she should dance perfectly well. The fifth, that she should sing like a nightingale, and the sixth, that she should play all kinds of music to the utmost perfection. The old fairy’s turn came next, and shaking her head more with spite than anger, said that one day the princess would have her hand pricked by a needle on a spinning wheel and that she would die of the wound. This terrible gift made the whole company tremble, and everybody began to cry. The king, to avoid the misfortune foretold by the old fairy, immediately made a law by which everybody was forbidden, on pain of death, to use a spinning wheel, or to have any spinning wheel in their houses. About fifteen or sixteen years later, on a day when the king and queen were busy in a far corner of the vast palace, the young and beautiful princess amused herself by running up and down the corridors and going up from one apartment to another. Eventually, she came into a little room at the top of the tower, where a good old woman, alone, was spinning with her wheel, for this good old woman had never heard of the king’s law against spinning wheels. The princess said: “What are you doing there, good old woman?” [old lady’s voice] “I am spinning sheep’s wool into thread so that I can knit it into a cardigan.” “Ha!” Said the princess, “that’s very clever. I’ve never seen that done before. How do you do it? Give it to me, so that I may see if I can do the same.” Now whether it was because she was in too much of a hurry, or whether it was because she was clumsy, or whether it was because the old fairy had wished it so, I cannot say – but no sooner than the princess took the spinning wheel, than she pricked her hand on the needle, and she fell down in a faint. The good old woman, not knowing what to do, cried out for help. People came rushing from all over the palace and they came in great numbers. When they saw the princess lying in a deep, deep sleep on the floor, they threw cold water on her face, they loosened her clothes, they struck her on the palms of her hands, and they rubbed her temples with smelling salts, but nothing they could do would awaken the princess. The king, who heard the great commotion from the far end of the palace, remembered the terrible warning of the fairies, and guessing what had happened, came rushing to the tower. There he saw the princess lying in a deep, deep sleep, and he ordered her to be carried into the finest apartment in his palace, and to be laid upon a bed all embroidered with gold and silver. If you had seen her, you might have taken her for a little angel, she was so very beautiful, for her swooning away had not paled her complexion; her cheeks were like roses, and her lips were like sea coral. Indeed, her eyes were shut, but she was heard to breathe softly, which persuaded everyone that she was not dead. The king commanded that they should not disturb her, but let her sleep quietly until her hour of awaking was come. When this accident happened to the princess, the good fairy who had saved her life by condemning her to sleep for a hundred years, was in the kingdom of Matakin, twelve thousand miles away, but she quickly heard the terrible news from a little dwarf, who had one hundred mile boots, that is boots with which he could tread over one hundred miles of ground in a single step. The fairy came immediately, and she arrived at the palace about an hour later, in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons. The king took her hand as she stepped out of the chariot, and they both went to look at the sleeping princess. As the fairy was very good at thinking and planning ahead, she realised that in one hundred years time when the princess would wake up, she might not know what to do with herself, being all alone in this old palace. So this was what she did: she touched with her wand everything in the palace (except the king and queen), nannies, maids of honour, ladies of the bedchamber, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, undercooks, cleaners, guards, with their beefeaters, pages and footmen. She also touched all the horses in the stables and fields, the fierce guard dogs in the outer court, and pretty little Mopsey too, the princess’s little puppy, which lay by her on the bed. Immediately, as soon as she touched them they all fell asleep, so that they might not awaken before their princess, and that they might be ready to serve her when she wanted them. Even the great fires in the ovens of the kitchen, that were just then roasting partridges and pheasants, fell asleep too. All this was done in a moment. Fairies do not take long to finish their business. Now the king and the queen, having kissed their dear child without waking her, went out of the palace and made an order that nobody should dare to come near it. This, however, was not necessary, for in a quarter of an hour’s time there grew up all round about the palace grounds such a vast number of trees, great and small, bushes and brambles, entwining one within another, that neither man nor beast could pass through; so that nothing could be seen but the very top of the towers of the palace. Nobody doubted but the fairy had demonstrated a very extraordinary sample of her power, that the princess, while she continued sleeping, might have nothing to fear from any curious people. When a hundred years had passed by, the son of a king from another family had gone a-hunting in that part of the country where the palace used to be. He asked: “What are those towers in the middle of that great thick wood?” Everyone answered with the rumours that they had heard. Some said that it was a ruinous old castle, haunted by spirits. Others, that all the sorcerers and witches of the country used to meet there at midnight when there was a full moon. Most people believed that an ogre lived there, and that he used take there all the little children he could catch, so that he could eat them up whenever he pleased, without anybody being able to follow him, as only he had the power to pass through the wood. The prince was all in a quandary, not knowing what to believe, when a very good countryman said to him: “May it please Your Royal Highness, it is now about fifty years since I heard from my father, who heard my grandfather say that there was then in this castle a princess, the most beautiful that was ever seen; that she must sleep there a hundred years, and should only be waked by a king’s son.” The young prince was all on fire at these words, believing, without thinking things through, that he could save the princess, and pushed on by love and honor, he swore that moment that he would do just that. As he rode on his horse toward the wood, all the great trees, the bushes, and brambles gave way to let him pass through. He walked up to the castle which he saw at the end of a large avenue and he went into it. What rather surprised him was that none of his people could follow him, because the trees closed again as soon as he had passed through them. However, he did not stop; a young and amorous prince is always brave. He came into a wide, wide outer court, where everything he saw might have frozen the most fearless person with horror. There was a most frightful silence; the image of death everywhere showed itself, and there was nothing to be seen but stretched-out bodies of men and animals, all seeming to be dead. The prince realised when he saw the red faces and pimpled noses of the guards, that they were only asleep; and that their glasses, in which there still remained some drops of wine, showed plainly that they had fallen asleep, while drunk. He then crossed a court paved with marble, went up the stairs and came into the corridor where guards were standing, with their rifles upon their shoulders, snoring as loud as they could. After that he went through several rooms full of gentlemen and ladies, all asleep; some standing, others sitting. At last he came into a chamber all gilded with gold, where he saw upon a bed the most wonderful sight that had even met his eyes – a princess, who appeared to be about fifteen or sixteen years of age, and whose bright and rosy beauty was quite angelic. He approached with trembling admiration, and fell down before her upon his knees and kissed her hand. Now, as the evil fairy’s spell was at an end, the princess opened her blue eyes for the first time in one hundred years and looking at him said: “Is it you, my prince? You have waited a long time.” The prince, charmed with these words, and much more with the manner in which they were spoken, knew not how to show his joy and gratitude. He assured her that he loved her more than anyone or anything in the whole wide world. Their conversation did not make much sense – they spoke with little reason but a great deal of love. He was more lost for words than she, and we need not wonder at it; she had time to think what to say to him; for it is very probable (though history mentions nothing of it) that the good fairy, during so long a sleep, had given her very agreeable dreams about handsome princes coming to her rescue. In short, they talked four hours together, and yet they said not half of what they had to say. In the meanwhile, all the palace awakened, and as all of them were not in love, they felt most desperately hungry after 100 years without a bite to eat. The chief lady of honor grew very impatient, and told the princess aloud that supper was served up. The prince helped the princess to rise. She was entirely dressed, and very magnificently too, but His Royal Highness took care not to tell her that she was dressed in the fashion of one hundred years ago, like his great-grandmother. She looked not a bit less charming and beautiful for all that. They went into the great hall of mirrors, where they ate supper, and were served by the princess’ officers. The orchestra played old tunes, but very nice ones, and after supper, without losing any time, the priest married them in the chapel of the castle, and the chief lady of honour drew the curtains. They had but very little sleep – the princess had had too much of it recently, and the prince left her the next morning to return to the city, where the king was anxiously waiting for him. And that’s the end of the first part of The Sleeping Beauty. If you want to know what happened to the prince and the Sleeping Beauty after that, you’ll have to listen to the next Storynory. Prince Bertie the Frog would like you to meet all his new friends at his lovely green and purple website. You can see what he looks like there. So drop by at Storynory.Com. For now, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn109.txt b/text/sn109.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6be48237a6dcd5d2c47c2ce86d4c1b503895fa81 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn109.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download The Audio Here The Queen Mother was of the race of the ogres, and the king would never have married her had it not been for her vast riches; it was even whispered about the court that she had ogreish inclinations, and that, whenever she saw little children passing by, she had all the difficulty in the world to avoid falling upon them and eating them up. Soon after the king went to make war with the Emperor Contalabutte, his neighbour, she went into the kitchen and said to her clerk: “I have a mind to eat little Morning for my dinner tomorrow.” The Sleeping Beauty has married her handsome prince and now he has become king. She should be living happily ever after with her two children … In our Pond Life introduction, Sadie the Swan wants to hear a romantic tale of love, but Colin the Carp overrules her. Read by Natasha. Duration: 15 minutes. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. The Sleeping Beauty Part Two - If you listened to the first part of this Storynory, you will know that a handsome prince discovered a Sleeping Beauty in a palace in the woods. She had been fast asleep for one hundred years, but when he kissed her hand she woke up and fell in love with him. They were married that very day. Did they live happily ever after? Do you want to know? You do? Well listen quietly, and I will tell you the second and final part of The Sleeping Beauty in the woods. The king, his father, who was a good man, believed him, but his mother could not be persuaded it was true; and seeing that he went almost every day a-hunting, and that he always had some excuse ready for so doing, though he had slept out three or four nights together, she began to suspect that he was married, for he lived with the princess for over two whole years, and they had two children – the eldest of which, who was a daughter, was named Morning,and the youngest, who was a son, they called Day. The queen spoke several times to her son, to ask him how he passed his time. He never dared to trust her with his secret. He feared her, though he loved her, for she was of the race of the ogres, and the king would never have married her had it not been for her money; it was even whispered about the court that she had ogreish inclinations, and that, whenever she saw little children passing by, she had all the difficulty in the world to stop herself pouncing on them and gobbling them up for a snack. And so the prince would never tell her one word about his beautiful wife and two little children. The king died about two years later, and although the prince was very sad, he became Lord and master, both of the people and of himself. A month later, he announced his marriage to the cheering crowds; and he led his beloved wife, the former Sleeping Beauty, in a great procession to the palace. They made a magnificent entry into the capital city, she riding between her two children. Now she became his queen. Soon after, the king went to make war with the Emperor Contalabutte, his neighbour. He left his wife, the Sleeping Beauty, and his two children, Prince Day and Princess Morning, in the care of his mother. His war went on all summer, and after a while his mother said to the Sleeping Beauty: “Why don’t you go to visit your old palace in the forest, my dear, and see that everything is in order there? I will look after little Princess Morning and little Prince Day.” Sleeping Beauty went to visit her old palace in the forest to see that everything was in order there, and she left the great city, and little Princess Morning and little Prince Day in the care of the king’s mother, for she did not know that she was an ogress who craved to eat little children for dinner. As soon as Sleeping Beauty was gone, the queen went into the palace kitchen. She said: “I have an idea to eat little Morning for my dinner tomorrow.” “Ah! madam!” cried the chief cook of the kitchen. “I will have it so,” replied the queen (and this she spoke in the tone of an ogress who had a strong desire to eat fresh meat) “and I will eat her with cranberry sauce.” The poor man, knowing very well that he must not play tricks with ogresses, took his great knife and went up into little Morning’s chamber. She was then four years old, and came up to him jumping and laughing, to take him about the neck, and ask him for some sugar-candy. Upon which he began to weep, the great knife fell out of his hand, and he went into the back yard, and killed a little lamb, and dressed it with such good sauce that his mistress assured him that she had never eaten anything so good in her life. He had at the same time taken up little Morning, and carried her to his wife, to conceal her in a hut he had at the bottom of the courtyard. So far all was well, but one evening this wicked queen said to her chief cook of the kitchen:“I will eat Sleeping Beauty with the same sauce I had with her children.” It was now that the poor clerk of the kitchen despaired of being able to deceive her. The young queen was turned of twenty, not reckoning the hundred years she had been asleep; and how to find in a beast of the size, shape and firmness puzzled him. He decided that to save his own life, he must cut Sleeping Beauty’s throat; and so he went to her palace in the forest with the meaning to do just that. He put himself into as foul a mood as he possibly could, and came into Sleeping Beauty’s room in the palace with his dagger in his hand. For after hearing of the queen’s orders, she thought that they must be dead. “No, no, madam,” cried the poor chief cook of the kitchen, all in tears, “you shall not die, and yet you shall see your children again, but you must go home with me to my lodgings, where I have concealed them, and I shall deceive the queen once more by giving her in your place a young deer for her dinner.” And so he led her to his house, where leaving her to embrace her children, and cry along with them, he went and dressed a young deer, which the queen had for her supper, and devoured it with the same appetite as if it had been Sleeping Beauty. She was so delighted with her cruelty, and she had invented a story to tell the king, on his return, how the mad wolves had eaten up his wife and her two children. One evening, as she was, according to her custom, rambling round about the courts and yards of the palace to see if she could smell any fresh meat, she heard in a ground room, little Prince Day crying, for his mamma was sending him to bed without supper because he had been naughty; and she heard at the same time, little Morning begging pardon for her brother. The ogress presently knew the voice of Sleeping Beauty and her children, and being quite mad that she had been tricked, commanded the next morning, by break of day (with a most horrible voice, which made everybody tremble), that they should bring into the middle of the great court a large tub; which she ordered to be filled with toads, vipers, snakes, and all sorts of serpents, in order to have thrown into it Sleeping Beauty and her children, the chief cook of the kitchen, his wife and maid – all whom she had given orders should be brought there with their hands tied behind them. They were brought out, and the executioners were just going to throw them into the tub, when the king (who was not so soon expected) entered the court on horseback (for he came post) and asked, with the utmost astonishment, what was the meaning of that horrible spectacle. No one dared to tell him. When the ogress, all enraged to see what had happened, threw herself head first into the tub, and was instantly gobbled up by the ugly creatures she had ordered to be thrown into it for the others. The king was very sorry, for the ogress had been his own mother; but he soon comforted himself with his beautiful wife and his pretty children, and they lived happily ever after. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn11.txt b/text/sn11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..55daf892c6fedd41277062adc5ecc8967f5c78fe --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn11.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio (Right Click, Save As) Katie’s Great Aunt Chloe is coming to stay for Halloween. Unfortunately her Great Aunt always makes Katie embarrassed by being just too “witchy.”She can’t resist flying on her broomstick and doing other tricks that draw attention to the fact that the family are witches. This story features incidental music by Gabriella and Jay. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 20 minutes. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Hello, this is Natasha, and I’m dropping by with a Halloween Story about our own Katie the Witch. I was just wondering, do you have any relatives that make you feel, well, just a bit embarrassed? You know, perhaps they dress in bad taste, or dance terribly at parties, or make awful jokes. Katie had a relative a bit like that. Her name was Great Aunt Chloe, and you can meet her in this story. The trees were turning golden brown, the squirrels were busy burying conkers in the park, and the witches were getting ready for Halloween. For Katie’s mum, this was the busiest time of the year in her shop called the Magic Lantern. If you wanted to be a classy witch or a snazzy goblin, The Magic Lantern was the place to come and browse for a costume. Katie helped her mum cut out pumpkins, and at night, when the shop was closed, the door was guarded by ghoulish glowing faces. In the day, it was packed with mums and kids stocking up for Halloween. Many of them were from Katie’s School, which was holding a Halloween Ball. Jennie’s mum came into the shop to buy some Halloween Lights, and as she was paying she said to Katie’s mum: “Of course your daughter doesn’t have to dress up for the Halloween Ball. She can just go as herself.” And Katie’s mum fumed because she didn’t think that remark was meant as a compliment. In fact, Halloween was far from Katie’s favourite time of year. It was the time when nobody would let her forget that she was a witch. Even her best friend Isis asked her: “Katie, what do witches actually do for Halloween? I mean, they don’t really fly around on broomsticks, right?” And Katie replied: “Don’t be silly. Of course they don’t.” But actually, that wasn’t strictly true. Katie knew at least one witch who liked to take her broomstick for a spin on Halloween. And unfortunately, that person was her Great Aunt Chloe. Great Aunt Chloe was the sister of Katie’s Grandma. But she was a very different sort of person. Grandma was extremely polite and proper. Aunt Chloe, as everyone in the family knew, had been a bit of a wild witch in her youth. She had been the first person to fly around the world on a broomstick. And she had been a member of The Red Sticks – a team of witches that did formation broom flying and death defying stunts, like loop the loop and vertical take-off. And although these days she did not do so much flying, she still liked to keep up the tradition on Halloween. People said that she had been extremely beautiful back in the old days, and she still was, in a witchy sort of way. And although it was good that she was proud of her magical heritage, it could also be a bit embarrassing for Katie and her mum who preferred to keep that sort of thing a bit hush hush. Great Aunt Chloe had invited herself to come and stay. And the time she had picked for her visit was the Halloween weekend. Katie lay awake at night hoping that her Great Aunt would not do anything too embarrassing. But she knew that she probably would. The school’s Halloween Ball went off just fine for Katie. One or two people – like Jennie and Jake – were nagging her to pull off a magic stunt or two, but most people just said how pretty she looked in her costume. She was wearing a blue and yellow caftan with lots of magical signs embroidered on the collar and cuffs. There was nothing too witchy about it at all. And everyone loved the pumpkin dance that she performed with Isis. This is how Katie and Isis did the pumpkin dance, to the song: “Don’t Be Scared of Halloween.”Firstly, they held their hands out to the side, holding pumpkins in their palms like weighing scales, and they swayed at the waist. They did a tap step from left to right, then they moved their shoulders up and down, they did a full turn and swivelled their pumpkin hands. For the verse beginning Witch’s Love to Fly on Sticks, they imagined they were flying on broom sticks, flinging sweets with flicking gestures of their hands. Later on, when it was dark, the streets were full of excited kids going Trick or Treating. The little ones were all sugared up on sweets and shrieking like demons. The older ones tried to help their parents keep the smaller ones in check. On the doorsteps of people’s houses, the kids screamed: “Trick or Treat,”and if the people were nice, they gave them sweets. But Katie and Isis collected the best haul of sweets because they charmed everyone with their pumpkin dance. Great Aunt Chloe came along with Katie and her mum. She was wearing a black cloak and a pointed hat with red magical writing on it. Her eyes were covered with a mask, and she carried her broom stick in her hand. And although she blended into the general melee of weirdly dressed people, Katie could not help feeling anxious that she might do something just a bit embarrassing. Two small kids ran past chanting: “Katie is a witch! Katie is awitch!” And Aunt Chloe said, “I don’t think that’s very nice.” “Oh I take no notice of little brats like them,”said Katie. “They’re only small, and besides, they’ve scoffed too many sweets.” Aunt Chloe dismissed them with a shrug. But then one of the kids turned around and threw something at Katie. Isis shrieked. And Katie said: “Er what’s that?” It was a Goo Bomb – a new kind of nasty toy that exploded with gooy green slime. Poor Katie was covered in it, and her hair was all sticky. “HA HA! Look at the ugly Slimy Witch!”shouted the kids. But they weren’t so amused when Great Aunt Chloe raised her arm and pointed a lengthy index finger at them. “No don’t, Aunt Chloe, Please!”pleaded Katie. But her Great Aunt was not listening. A green beam shot out of her finger and zapped first one and then the other kid. They both staggered backwards and sat down on a door step. When they tried to stand up, they couldn’t. They were stuck there. “That will teach you to mess with a witch. You can stay on the Naughty Step until I release you …. which might be sometime next week if I am in a good mood. But on the other hand, I might just fly home and forget all about you.” Both the children started to cry and their mothers rushed over and tried to help them to stand. But try as they might, they couldn’t. People were staring at Great Aunt Chloe, and Katie, and her mum, and accusations were starting to fly around. “What have you done to our children?” demanded one of the mums. And Great Aunt Chloe said, “I haven’t done anything. They are just naughty children. They threw goo all over my niece.” Katie was so embarrassed, she wished that the road would open up and swallow her. Then she remembered that she shouldn’t wish too hard for anything like that because, after all, she was a witch, and it could actually happen. Katie’s mum pulled Chloe away from the crowd. “Please Aunt Chloe. Release them at once.” “In my day, children knew how to behave,” retorted Chloe. “But if you don’t let them go now, there will be a terrible scene and people will boycott my shop and bully Katie at school.” “Oh all right then,” sighed Chloe. And she muttered the spell to unglue the two terrors from the step. The naughty kids were able to stand. Their parents were hugging them. Nobody was quite sure what had happened. But a few people suspected. Katie was fuming with her Great Aunt as they walked home with a bucket full of sweets. “It’s just awful,” she thought. “Now all the teasing and taunting about my family of witches is going to start all over again.” She was glum when they got home, and went straight upstairs to sulk on her bed. Her cat Solomon wasn’t there. “I wish he hadn’t gone out tonight,” thought Katie. “There will be fireworks and they might scare the life out of him.” Soon she heard some cracks and bangs in the sky. ”Oh dear, poor Solomon,” she thought. And then she heard a loud screech like a rocket going off – only it wasn’t quite like a rocket – it was more like a cat – “Oh NO!”exclaimed Katie, and she ran out into the garden. The sound was coming from somewhere up on the roof. She looked up and saw not Solomon, but Great Aunt Chloe standing astride her broomstick on the tiles. A stream of red stars was pouring out of the back of her stick and she was waving her hat and screeching for all she was worth. Then she and her broomstick shot up into the sky, not quite vertically, but almost. ‘FZZZZZZZSHOOOOWOW!” went the broom stick, still pouring out stars like a firework. And she looped the loop, just like back in the old days. “Wow, that’s cool flying,” thought Katie. “But I really really hope the neighbours don’t see, or if they do, that they think she’s a rocket.” Chloe was writing twirly patterns of stars in the sky, and Katie was sure that lots of people must have noticed. She heard “oohs” and “ahs” from the next door garden – then she ran through the house and out the front and found that a small crowd of people were standing in the street gazing up at the magical display. “That’s some firework,” said a bald man. “Impressive,”said a woman. “Did it come from a back garden?” But a little boy said something that Katie didn’t want to hear. “That’s not a firework. Fireworks don’t go on for a long time like that. Look it’s a witch!” His mother ticked him off: “Don’t be silly, witches only exist in books,” but his sister shouted: “Yippee I’ve seen a real life witch!” “Oh Yikes!” thought Katie. “I’ll never live this down.” The bald man started taking pictures with his mobile phone: “I’ll put these on Facebook,” he said. “No better still, I’ll take a movie and send it to the TV Station. ‘Witch Flies on Halloween!’They’ll pay good money for pictures like these.” But then the broom stick started to swoop back down from the moonlit sky – it was coming down really fast, and very steeply – and Katie wondered how her Great Aunt managed to hang on, especially at her age. But then, she wasn’t hanging on any more – she slid off the stick and was dangling by one arm. Katie put her hands to her face: “I can’t bear to look anymore” she said. But through a chink in her fingers she saw her Great Aunt come tumbling off her stick and fall down somewhere into the park. Katie screamed “AAAHH THAT’S MY Aunt!” and people stared at her. She was too alarmed to care. She was running down the road to the entrance to the park. The gate was locked, but she managed to vault over it with a quick little weight-defying spell that made her bound like she was on the moon. She wasn’t quite sure where her Great Aunt had landed, but she thought that she must have broken every bone in her body. Then, as she got near the lake, she had another fright. A weird creature was wading through the water. Katie froze. “Could it be,” she thought, “some kind of ghoul that wakes up on Halloween?” – but of course it wasn’t a ghoul – it was her Great Aunt who had landed in the pond. “YEE-HA!” she called. “Did you see me fly Katie? Just like the old days. Only I seem to have broken my broom. Pity. I’ve had that one since way back when. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.” The next day, Isis sent Katie a link to a video on YouTube. It showed a Halloween Witch flying over the rooftops amid the fireworks and crashing. Only most of the comments were agreed on one thing: “NICE FAKE!” This was one of the good things about magic. If people don’t believe in it, they will think it’s just trickery when they see it. When Katie got to school on Monday, nobody was teasing her. Emma even said: “I wish I had a Great Aunt like yours. She was really cool in her costume. All my relatives are so boring they are just embarrassing.” At first Katie thought, “If only my relatives were boring, I’d be so glad.”And then she realised: “Yes, people are often a bit embarrassed about their family – but usually there is no need, because other people see them quite differently.” But all the same, she was glad that Halloween was over, and that her Great Aunt Chloe had flown home safely on a new broom stick that couldn’t go nearly as fast as the old one. And that was the story of Katie’s Halloween Aunt. Before I go, I’d like to let you know that Storynory is now putting some books on Kindle, to see if people would like to read our stories that way. Check out the Kindle store on Amazon for our story Katie and the Witch’s Swap, as well as some others we’ve put up there. And just in case you don’t know – you can download the Kindle app for computers and mobile phones, as well as the Kindle device. And Storynory has a new Katie song out. It’s all about Katie and it’s called, “Don’t be Scared of Halloween.” It’s sung by our very own Gabriella, so do go to Storynory.com where you can download the mp3 for free! For now, from me, Natasha Bye Bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn110.txt b/text/sn110.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..596a9b782614aee0557740d5ce1b35a448719197 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn110.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 17.36 Minutes. English text by Andrew Lang. Proofread by Claire Deakin & Jana Elizabeth. ONCE there was a gentleman who married, for his second wife, the proudest and most haughty woman that was ever seen. She had been married before, and already had two daughters who were exactly like her in all things. He had likewise, by his first wife, a young daughter, but of unequalled goodness and sweetness of temper, which she took from her mother, who was the best creature in the world. This sweet little girl missed her mother, who had died, terribly much The poor girl bore all patiently, and dared not tell her father, who would have been angry with her; for his new wife ruled him entirely. When the little girl had done her work, she used to go into the chimney corner, and sit down among cinders and ashes, which led her to be called Cinderwench; but the youngest stepdaughter, who was not quite so rude and unkind as the eldest, called her Cinderella. However, Cinderella, dressed in rags was a hundred times prettier than her sisters, though they were always dressed very richly. It happened that the king’s son gave a ball, and invited all the finest gentlemen and ladies of the city. Our young misses’ were also invited, for they were always to be seen at fashionable parties. They were truly delighted at this invitation, and wonderfully busy in choosing such gowns, petticoats, and headdresses as might suit them. This was a new trouble to Cinderella, for it was she who washed and ironed her sisters’ clothes and got all their things ready. Meanwhile, the sisters talked all day long of nothing but what they should wear to the ball. “For my part,” said the eldest, “I will wear my red velvet suit with French trimming.” “And I,” said the youngest, “shall have my usual petticoat; but then, to make amends for that, I will put on my gold-flowered gown, and my diamond belt, which is far from being the most ordinary one in the world.” But in truth, they were still not absolutely sure what would be best to wear to the ball, so they sent for the best fashion designer they could find to advise on their evening dresses, and they had their nails manicured at Mademoiselle de la Poche. Cinderella was likewise called up to them for advice, for she had excellent judgement, and advised them always for the best, indeed, and offered her services to make up their hair, which they were very willing she should do. As she was doing this, they said to her: “Cinderella, would you not be glad to go to the ball?” “Alas!” Said she. “You only jeer me. It is not for a poor girl like me to go there.” “You’re quite right,” replied they, “it would make the people laugh to see a Cinderwench at a ball.” Anyone but Cinderella would have dressed their heads all wrong, but she was very good, and dressed them perfectly well. The stepsisters were almost two days without eating, so much were they thrilled and excited. They broke above a dozen corsets in trying to be laced up tightly, so that they might have a fine slender shape, and they were continually at their looking-glass. At last the happy day came. They went to court, and Cinderella followed them with her eyes as long as she could, and when she had lost sight of them, she fell a-crying. Just then, her fairy godmother, who used to watch over her secretly, saw her all in tears, and appeared at her side and asked her what was the matter. “I wish I could – I wish I could…” She was not able to speak the rest, being interrupted by her tears and sobbing. This fairy godmother of hers said to her: “You wish you could go to the ball; is it not so?” “Y-es,” cried Cinderella, with a great sigh. “Well,” said her godmother, “be but a good girl, and I will see that you shall go to the ball.” Then she took her into her secret room, and said to her: “Run into the garden, and bring me a pumpkin.” Cinderella went immediately to gather the finest she could get, and brought it to her godmother, not being able to imagine how this pumpkin could make her go to the ball. Her godmother scooped out all the inside of the big vegetable, leaving nothing but the rind; which done, she struck it with her wand, and the pumpkin was instantly turned into a fine coach, gilded all over with gold. She then went to look into her mousetrap, where she found six mice, all alive, and ordered Cinderella to lift up a little the trapdoor. As each mouse went out, she gave it a little tap with her wand, and the mouse was that moment turned into a fine horse, which altogether made a very fine set of six horses of a beautiful mouse-coloured dapple-grey. But they still needed a coachman. “I will go and see,” said Cinderella, “if there is a rat in the rattrap – we may make a coachman of him.” “You’re a smart one,” replied her godmother, “go and look.” Cinderella brought the trap to her, and in it there were three huge rats. The fairy made choice of one of the three which had the largest beard, and having touched him with her wand, was turned into a fat, jolly coachman, who had the smartest whiskers eyes ever beheld. After that, she said to her: “Go again into the garden, and you will find six lizards behind the watering can, bring them to me.” She had no sooner done so but her godmother turned them into six footmen, who skipped up immediately behind the coach, with their uniforms all bedaubed with gold and silver, and clung as close behind each other as if they had done nothing else their whole lives. The fairy then said to Cinderella: “Well, you have here transport fit to take you to the ball. Are you not pleased with it?” “Oh yes,” cried she, “but must I go there as I am, in these nasty rags?” Her godmother only just touched her with her wand, and at the same instant, her clothes were turned into cloth of gold and silver, all beset with jewels. This done, she gave her a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the whole world. Being thus decked out, she got up into her coach; but her godmother, above all things, commanded her not to stay until after midnight, telling her at the same time that if she stayed one moment longer, the coach would be a pumpkin again, her horses mice, her coachman a rat, her footmen lizards, and her clothes become just as they were before. She promised her godmother she would not fail to leave the ball before midnight; and then away she went, scarce able to contain herself for joy. The king’s son who was told that a great princess, whom nobody knew, was to come, ran out to receive her. He gave her his hand as she alighted out of the coach, and led her into the ball, among all the company. There was immediately a profound silence, they left off dancing, and the violins ceased to play, so attentive was everyone to contemplate the singular beauty of the unknown newcomer. Nothing was then heard but a confused noise of: “Ah! How lovely she is! Ah! How lovely she is!” The king himself, old as he was, could not help watching her, and telling the queen softly that it was a long time since he had seen so beautiful and lovely a creature. All the ladies were busied in considering her clothes and headdress, that they might have some made the next day after the same pattern, provided they could meet with such fine material and as able hands to make them. The king’s son led her to the most honourable seat, and afterward took her out to dance with him. She danced so very gracefully that they all more and more admired her. A fine banquet was served up, of which the young prince ate not a morsel, so intently was he busied in gazing on her. She went and sat down by her sisters, showing them a thousand polite gestures, giving them part of the oranges and lemon blossoms which the prince had presented her with, which very much surprised them, for they did not recognise her. While Cinderella was thus amusing her sisters, she heard the clock strike eleven and three quarters, whereupon she immediately made a curtsy to the company and hasted away as fast as she could. When she got home she ran to seek out her godmother, and after having thanked her, she said she could not but heartily wish she might go next day to the ball, because the king’s son had desired her. As she was eagerly telling her godmother whatever had passed at the ball, her two sisters knocked at the door, which Cinderella ran and opened. “How long you have stayed!” Cried she, gaping, rubbing her eyes and stretching herself as if she had been just woken out of her sleep. She had not, however, any manner of inclination to sleep since they went from home. “If you had been at the ball,” said one of her sisters, “you would not have been tired. There came there the finest princess, the most beautiful ever was seen with mortal eyes. She was a thousand times nice to us, and gave us orange and lemon blossoms.” Cinderella seemed very indifferent in the matter, indeed, she asked them the name of that princess, but they told her they did not know it, and that the king’s son was very uneasy on her account and would give all the world to know who she was. At this Cinderella, smiling, replied: “She must then be very beautiful indeed. How happy you have been! Could not I see her? Ah! Dear Miss Charlotte, do lend me your yellow suit of clothes which you wear everyday.” “Aye, to be sure!” Cried Miss Charlotte. “Lend my clothes to such a dirty Cinderwench as you! I should be a fool.” Cinderella indeed expected well such answer, and was very glad of the refusal; for she would have been sadly put to it if her sister had lent her what she asked for jokingly. The next day the two sisters were at the ball, and so was Cinderella, but dressed more magnificently than before. The king’s son was always by her, and never ceased his compliments and kind speeches to her; to whom all this was so far from being tiresome that she quite forgot what her godmother had recommended to her; so that she, at last, counted the clock striking twelve when she took it to be no more than eleven. She then rose up and fled, as nimble as a deer. The prince followed, but could not overtake her. She left behind one of her glass slippers, which the prince took up most carefully. She got home but quite out of breath, and in her nasty old clothes, having nothing left of all her finery but one of the little slippers, fellow to that she dropped. The guards at the palace gate were asked if they had not seen a princess go out. They replied that they had seen nobody go out but a young girl, very meanly dressed, and who had more the air of a poor country wench than a gentlewoman. When the two sisters returned from the ball, Cinderella asked them if they had been well diverted, and if the fine lady had been there. They told her yes, but that she hurried away immediately when it struck twelve, and with so much haste that she dropped one of her little glass slippers, the prettiest in the world, which the king’s son had taken up; that he had done nothing but look at her all the time at the ball, and that most certainly he was very much in love with the beautiful person who owned the glass slipper. What they said was very true, for a few days after the king’s son commanded it to be proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, that he would marry the young woman whose foot would perfectly fit the slipper. He sent out his most trusted advisers from the palace, who began to try it upon the princesses, then the duchesses and all the court, but in vain. It was then brought to the two sisters, who each did all that she possibly could to thrust her foot into the slipper, but neither sister could manage to do so. Cinderella, who saw all this, and knew her slipper, said to them, laughing: “Let me see if it will not fit me.” Her sisters burst out a-laughing, and began to tease her. The gentleman who was sent to try the slipper looked earnestly at Cinderella, and finding her very handsome, said it was only right that she should try, and that he had orders to let every girl try. He asked Cinderella to sit down, and putting the slipper to her foot, found it went on very easily, and fitted her as if it had been made of wax. The astonishment her two sisters were in was excessively great, but still abundantly greater when Cinderella pulled out of her pocket the other slipper, and put it on her foot. Thereupon, in came her godmother, who having touched with her wand Cinderella’s clothes, made them richer and more magnificent than any of those she had before. Now her two sisters found her to be that fine, beautiful lady whom they had seen at the ball. They threw themselves at her feet to beg pardon for all the ill treatment they had dished out to her. Cinderella took them up, and as she embraced them, cried that she forgave them with all her heart, and desired them always to love her. She was brought by carriage to the young prince, dressed as she was. He thought her more charming than ever, and a few days after, married her. Cinderella, who was no less good than beautiful, gave her two sisters rooms in the palace, and that very same day matched them with two great lords of the court. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn111.txt b/text/sn111.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..561f04a8ed88e923cb21c2f47e8bd22204cb7557 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn111.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the Audio MP3 of Puss in Boots Once upon a time there was a poor miller who had three sons. The years went by and the miller died, leaving nothing but his mill, his donkey, and a cat. The eldest son took the mill, the second-born son rode off on the donkey, and the youngest son inherited the cat. “Oh, well,” said the youngest son, “I’ll eat this cat, and make some mittens out of his fur. Then I will have nothing left in the world and shall die of hunger.” The cat was listening to his master complain like this, but he pretended not to have heard anything. Instead, he put on a serious face and said: “Do not look so sad, master. Just give me a bag and a pair of boots, and I will show you that you did not receive such a poor inheritance in me.” The cat’s master had often seen him play a great many cunning tricks to catch rats and mice, as when he used to hang by the heels, or hide himself in the grain, and pretend to be dead. Thinking this over, he thought that it wasn’t impossible that the cat could help him after all, so he gave the cat his bag and spent his last pennies on ordering a fine pair of boots to be made especially for the cat. The cat looked very gallant in his boots, and putting his bag around his neck, he held the strings of it in his two fore paws and lay by a rabbit warren, which was home to a great many rabbits. He put bran and corn into his bag, and stretching as if he were dead, waited for some young rabbits, still not acquainted with the deceits of the world, to come and rummage in his bag for the bran and corn. “Tell thy master,” said the king, “that I thank him and that he does me a great deal of pleasure.” Another time he went and hid himself among a cornfield, holding still his bag open, and when a brace of partridges ran into it he drew the strings and so caught them both. He went and made a present of these to the king, as he had done before of the rabbit. The king, in like manner, received the partridges with great pleasure, and ordered him some money for drink. In this way, the cat continued for two or three months to bring presents to the king, always saying that they were from his master, the Marquis of Carabas. One day in particular, he heard at the palace that the king was planning to drive in his carriage along the river bank, taking with him his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world. Puss in Boots said to his master: “If you will follow my advice, your fortune is made. You have nothing else to do but go and wash yourself in the river, in the place that I shall show you, and leave the rest to me.” The miller’s son did what the cat advised him to, without knowing why or wherefore. While he was washing, the king passed by, and the cat began to cry out: “Help! Help! My Lord, Marquis of Carabas, is going to be drowned!” This cunning cat had hidden the clothes under a great stone. The king immediately commanded the officers of his wardrobe to run and fetch one of his best suits for the Lord Marquis of Carabas. The king was very pleased to meet the Marquis of Carabas, and the fine clothes he had given him suited him extremely well, for although poor, he was a handsome and a well built fellow. The king’s daughter took a secret inclination to him, and the Marquis of Carabas had no sooner cast two or three respectful and somewhat tender glances but she fell in love with him to distraction. The king invited him to sit in the coach and ride along with them, with the lifeguards in glittering uniform trotting along side. The cat, quite overjoyed to see his project begin to succeed, marched on before, and meeting with some countrymen, who were mowing a meadow, he said to them: “Good people, you who are mowing, if you do not tell the king that the meadow you mow belongs to my Lord Marquis of Carabas, those soldiers will chop you up like herbs for the pot.” The king did not fail asking of the mowers to whom the meadow they were mowing belonged. “To my Lord Marquis of Carabas,” answered they altogether, for the cat’s threats had made them terribly afraid. “You see, sir,” said the Marquis, “this is a meadow which never fails to yield a plentiful harvest every year.” The master cat, who went still on before, met with some reapers, and said to them: “Good people, you who are reaping, if you do not tell the king that all this corn belongs to the Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped up like herbs for the pot.” The king, who passed by a moment after, wished to know to whom all that corn, which he then saw, did belong. “To my Lord Marquis of Carabas,” replied the reapers, and the king was very well pleased with it, as well as the Marquis, whom he congratulated. Then the king said: “Let us now go to your castle.” The miller’s son, not knowing what to reply, looked at puss who said: “If Your Majesty will but wait an hour, I will go on before and order the castle to be made ready for you.” With that, she jumped away and went to the castle of a great ogre and asked to see him, saying he could not pass so near his home without having the honour of paying his respects to him. The ogre received him as civilly as an ogre could do, and made him sit down. “I have been assured,” said the cat, “that you have the gift of being able to change yourself into all sorts of creatures as you wish; you can, for example, transform yourself into a lion, or elephant, and the like.” “That is true,” answered the ogre very briskly, “and to convince you, you shall see me now become a lion.” Puss was so terrified at the sight of a lion so near him that he immediately climbed up the curtains, not without difficulty, because his boots were no use to him for climbing. A little while after, when Puss saw that the ogre had resumed his natural form, he came down and admitted he had been very much frightened. “However,” said the cat, “I fear that you will not be able to save yourself even in the form of a lion, for the king is coming with his army and means to destroy you.” The ogre looked out of the window and saw the king waiting outside with his soldiers, and said: “What shall I do? How shall I save myself?” Puss replied: “If you can also change yourself into something very small, then you can hide.” In an instant, the ogre turned himself into a mouse, and began to run about the floor. Puss no sooner saw this but he fell upon him and ate him up. Puss, who heard the noise of His Majesty’s coach running over the drawbridge, ran out and said to the king: “Your Majesty is welcome to this castle of my Lord Marquis of Carabas.” “What! My Lord Marquis,” cried the king. “Does this castle also belong to you? There can be nothing finer than this court and all the stately buildings which surround it. Let us go into it, if you please.” The Marquis gave his hand to the princess, and followed the king, who went first. They passed into a spacious hall, where they found a magnificent rum punch, which the ogre had prepared for his friends, who were that very day to visit him. The friends, however, dared not to enter, knowing that the king was there. His Majesty was perfectly charmed with the good qualities of my Lord Marquis of Carabas, as was his daughter, who had fallen violently in love with him, and seeing the vast estate he possessed, said to him, after having drunk five or six glasses: “If you do not, my Lord Marquis, become my son in law, it will be of your own choosing.” The Marquis, making several low bows, accepted the honour which His Majesty conferred upon him, and forthwith, that very same day, married the princess. Puss became a great lord, and never ran after mice anymore, except for pleasure. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn112.txt b/text/sn112.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ee4e00b2475d634be6013ee0ce0c157a7fc1b9e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn112.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio of Beauty and the Beast The acoustic guitar and sitar music add to its exotic atmosphere. At last, he saw some sort of track. At the beginning it was rough and slippery, but soon it led him into an avenue of orange trees covered with flowers and fruit – but here there was no snow. He saw a flight of stone steps. He went up them into a great castle. Inside he passed through several splendid rooms. Everywhere in the castle there was a deep silence. At last, he stopped in a small room where a fire was burning. He lay down on a couch and very soon fell into a sweet sleep. He woke up feeling hungry. He was still alone, but a good dinner had been laid on a little table. He began to eat, hoping that he might soon have an chance to thank his kind host, whoever it might be - but no one appeared. Then he went down into the garden, and though it was winter everywhere else, here the sun shone, and the birds sang, and the flowers bloomed, and the air was soft and sweet. The path had a hedge of roses on each side of it, and the merchant thought he had never seen or smelled such beautiful flowers. Then he remembered a promise he had made to his youngest daughter, who was so lovely that everyone knew her as Beauty. Before setting out on his journey, he had asked his daughters what presents they would like him to bring back for them. The five eldest wished for jewels and fine clothes, but Beauty asked only for a single rose. Now, as he stopped to pick a rose to take home to Beauty, he was startled by a strange noise behind him. Turning around, he saw a frightful ugly Beast, which seemed to be very angry and sad and said in a terrible voice, “Who said that you could pick my roses? Was it not enough that I let you say in my palace and was kind to you? This is the way you thank me, by stealing my flowers! You shall not go unpunished!” The merchant was terrified by these furious words. He dropped the fatal rose, and throwing himself on his knees, cried, “Pardon me, noble sir. I am truly grateful to you for your kindness. I could not imagine that you would mind so much if I took such a little thing as a rose.” The Beast was still furious, however, and cried, “Excuses and flattery will not save you from the death you deserve!” “Alas!” Thought the merchant. “My daughter’s rose has put me in this terrible danger.” He began to tell the Beast of his journey, not forgetting to mention how Beauty had asked him for a rose. “I beg you to forgive me, for I meant no harm,” he pleaded. The Beast thought for a moment, and then he said, in a less terrible voice, “I will forgive you on one condition – that is if you will give me one of your daughters.” “Ah!” Cried the merchant. “What excuse could I invent to bring her here?” “No excuse!” Answered the Beast. “She must come willingly. Go home. I give you a month to see if one of your daughters will save you. If none of them is willing to come to me, you must come back alone. Do not think that you can hide from me, for if you do not keep your word I will come and fetch you!” The poor merchant, more dead than alive, went to the stable where his horse was ready for his journey. It carried him off so swiftly that in an instant he had lost sight of the palace, and he was still wrapped in gloomy thoughts when it stopped before the door of his house. His daughters rushed to meet him. At first he told them nothing of the Beast, but as he gave Beauty her the rose he said sadly, “Here is what you asked me to bring you; you little know what it has cost.” Later that evening he told his family of his adventures from beginning to end, and then his daughters wept loudly. The girls were very angry with Beauty, and said to her that it was all her fault, and complained bitterly that they should have to suffer for her foolish wish. Poor Beauty said to them, “Who could have guessed that asking for a rose in the middle of summer would cause so much misery? But as I made this mistake, it is only right that I should be the one to suffer for it. I will go back to the Beast with father.” When the fatal day came she said goodbye to her sisters and everything she loved. She mounted a horse together with her father, and it seemed to fly rather than gallop. They soon reached the avenue of orange trees, where statues were holding flaming torches, and when they got nearer to the palace, music sounded softly from the courtyard. Her father led her to the little room where he had stayed, and there they found a splendid fire burning, and a delicious supper set out on the table. After they had finished their meal they heard the Beast’s footsteps approaching, and Beauty clung to her father. When the ugly Beast appeared she tried hard to hide her terror, and she nodded to him politely. This clearly pleased the Beast. After looking at her he said, in a voice that might have struck fear into the boldest of hearts, “Good evening, old man. Good evening, Beauty.” The merchant was too terrified to reply, but Beauty answered sweetly, “Good evening, Beast.” “Have you come willingly?” Asked the Beast. Beauty answered bravely that she had come willingly to save her father. “I am pleased with you,” said the Beast. “As for you, old man,” he added, turning to the merchant, “at sunrise tomorrow you will go.” Then turning to Beauty, he said, “Take your father into the next room and help him to choose presents for your sisters. Take everything they would wish for.” Then he left them saying, “Goodbye Beauty. Goodbye old man.” In the next room they found splendid dresses fit for a queen. When Beauty opened the cupboards she was quite dazzled by the gorgeous jewels that lay in heaps upon every shelf. After choosing a vast quantity, she opened the last chest, which was full of gold. “I think, father,” she said, “that gold will be more useful to you. We had better take out the other things again, and fill the trunks with gold.” So they did this; and at last the trunks were so heavy that an elephant could not have carried them! “The Beast was making fun of us,” cried the merchant. “He pretended to give us these things, knowing that I could not carry them away.” “Let us wait and see,” answered Beauty. At sunrise, they went down into the courtyard, where two horses were waiting; one loaded with the two trunks, the other for the merchant to ride. As soon as he climbed into the saddle, he went off at such a pace that Beauty lost sight of him in an instant. Then she began to cry and she went back to her room and fell into a deep sleep. She dreamed that she was walking by a stream when a young prince came up to her and said, in a voice that went straight to her heart, “Ah, Beauty! You are not so unlucky as you suppose. Only try to find me, no matter how I may be disguised, as I love you dearly. Make me happy and you shall be happy. Be as true-hearted as you are beautiful, and we shall have nothing left to wish for.” “What can I do, prince, to make you happy?” Said Beauty. “Do not trust your eyes,” he answered, “and set me free from my misery.” When Beauty awoke, she began to think about the charming prince she had seen in her dream. “He said I could make him happy.” Said Beauty to herself. “It seems that this horrible Beast keeps him a prisoner. How can I set him free? I don’t understand it. After all, it was only a dream, so why should I worry about it?” She got up to explore the castle, but she did not see anyone or hear any sound, and she began to find it rather dull. Only that evening, after supper, she heard the Beast coming, and she trembled with fear at what it might do. But he only said, “Good evening, Beauty.” She answered cheerfully and managed to hide her terror. He spoke politely to her for about an hour, and asked her all about her life with her family. Then he said in a gruff voice, “Do you love me, Beauty? Will you marry me?” “Oh! What shall I say?” Cried Beauty, for she was afraid to make the Beast angry by refusing.', "“Say 'yes' or 'no' without fear,” he replied.", '“Oh! No, Beast,” said Beauty, hastily. “Since you will not, goodnight Beauty,” he said. And she answered, “Goodnight, Beast,” very glad to find that he had not attacked her. After he was gone, she was very soon in bed asleep, and dreaming of her unknown prince. He came to her and said to her, “Ah, Beauty! Why are you so unkind to me? I fear I will be unhappy for many a long day still.” The next morning, she decided to amuse herself in the garden, for the sun shone, and all the fountains were playing. When she was tired she went back to the palace, and found a new room full of rare birds, so tame that they flew to Beauty as soon as they saw her, and perched upon her shoulders and her head. Some of them were parrots and cockatoos that could talk, and they greeted Beauty by name. "Pretty little creatures,” she said. “Oh how I wish that your cage was nearer to my room, that I could often hear you sing!" When she left, she opened a door and found that it led straight into her own room. After supper, the Beast paid her his usual visit, and before he left he asked her as before, “Beauty, will you marry me?” And when she refused, he gave her a gruff, “Goodnight” and left her. The days passed, and every evening the Beast asked her the same question and she gave him the same answer. Beauty felt that when she said, “No, Beast,” he went away quite sad. But her happy dreams of the handsome young prince soon made her forget the poor Beast. Her prince always told to let her heart guide her, and not her eyes, and many other equally baffling things which she could not understand. At last, happy as she was, Beauty began to long for her family. One night, seeing her look very sad, the Beast asked her what was the matter. Beauty was no longer afraid of him. Now she knew that he was really gentle in spite of his ferocious looks and his dreadful voice. She answered that she was longing to see her home once more. When he heard this, the Beast cried miserably, “Ah! Beauty, have you the heart to leave an unhappy Beast like me? Is it because you hate me that you want to escape?” “No, dear Beast,” answered Beauty softly. “I do not hate you, and I should be very sorry never to see you anymore, but I long to see my father again. Only let me go for two months, and I promise to come back to you and stay for the rest of my life.” The Beast replied with a sigh, “I cannot refuse you anything you ask, even though it should cost me my life. You may go. But remember your promise and come back when the two months are over, or you may be sorry, for if you do not come in good time you will find your faithful Beast dead.” Then she went to bed, but could hardly sleep for joy. When at last she did begin to dream of her beloved prince she saw him stretched upon a grassy bank, sad and weary, and hardly like himself. “What is the matter?” She cried. He looked at her reproachfully, and said, “How can you ask me, cruel one?” “Ah! Don’t be so sad,” cried Beauty. “I am only going to let my father know that I am safe and happy. I have promised my Beast that I shall come back. I would not cause him pain by breaking my word. He told me he would die if did not keep my promise to him.” “What do you care for an ugly Beast?” Asked the prince. “Oh,” said Beauty, “It is not his fault that he is so ugly. He is a very kind beast.” Just then, she heard someone speaking not very far away. She got up and then she suddenly heard her father’s voice. She rushed out and greeted him. She was home. Her sisters were quite astonished to see her, and there was no end to their questions about her life with the Beast. Then Beauty asked her father what he thought could be the meaning of her strange dreams. After much thought, he answered, “You tell me yourself that The Beast, frightful as he is, loves you dearly and is kind and gentle to you. I think the prince means that you should do as the Beast wishes in spite of his ugliness.” But Beauty’s thoughts were full of her handsome dream prince, and she could not imagine marrying the Beast. When the two months were over, Beauty’s sisters begged her not to return to the ugly beast, but to stay with her family. At first she could not refuse them, and she stayed on for a few days more. Then one night she had a different dream from usual. She saw not her prince, but the Beast. He was lying in a cave and he looked ill and in pain. Then Beauty remember his words that he might die if she did not stay true to her word. The next day, Beauty said goodbye to her father and all her sisters, and as soon as she was in bed she turned her ring around upon her finger, and said firmly, “I wish to go back to see my Beast again.” She fell asleep instantly, and only woke up to hear the clock saying, “Beauty, Beauty,” twelve times in its musical voice, which told her at once that she was in the palace once more. Everything was just as before, and her birds were so glad to see her! Beauty thought she had never known such a long day, for she was so anxious to see the Beast again, that she felt as if suppertime would never come. When it did come and no Beast appeared she was really frightened. She ran down into the garden to search for him. Up and down the paths and avenues ran poor Beauty, calling him in vain, for no one answered. At last, quite tired, she stopped for a minute’s rest, and saw that she was standing opposite a cave, and in it lay the Beast, asleep. Quite glad to have found him, she ran up and stroked his head, but to her horror, he did not move or open his eyes. “Oh! He is dead, and it is all my fault,” said Beauty, crying bitterly. But then, looking at him again, she fancied he still breathed. She fetched some water from the nearest fountain and sprinkled it over his face. Slowly, he began to open his eyes. “Ah Beauty,” he said faintly, “now you see what happens when you do not keep your word.” “Oh! Beast,” she cried. “I never knew how much I loved you until now, when I feared I was too late to save your life.” “Can you really love such an ugly creature as I am?” asked the Beast. “You only came just in time. I was dying because I thought you had forgotten your promise. Go back now and rest, I shall see you by and by.” Beauty went back to the palace, where supper was awaiting her; and afterward the Beast came in as usual, and asked about the time she had spent with her family, and if they had all been very glad to see her. When at last the time came for him to go, and he asked, as he had so often asked before, “Beauty, will you marry me?” She answered softly, “Yes, dear Beast.” As she spoke a blaze of light sprang up before the windows of the palace; fireworks crackled and guns banged, and across the avenue of orange trees, in letters all made of fireflies, was written, “Long live the prince and his bride.” Beauty meant to ask the Beast what it all meant, but he had gone. In his place stood her long-loved prince! At the same moment, two ladies entered the room. Both were splendidly dressed, but one especially so. Her companion said, “Well, Queen, this is Beauty, who has had the courage to rescue your son from the terrible magic spell that turned him into a Beast. They love one another, and your consent to their marriage is all they need to make them perfectly happy.” “I agree with all my heart,” cried the queen. Then she tenderly embraced Beauty and the prince. “Now,” said the fairy to Beauty, “I suppose you would like me to send for your father and sisters?” She did so. The marriage was celebrated the very next day, and Beauty and the prince lived happily ever after. And that was the story of Beauty and the Beast. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn113.txt b/text/sn113.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f46c565db5c7e729550c97ff45df23998d2cf441 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn113.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This Japanese story is a hidden gem from The Pink Fairy Book of Andrew Lang (1901). The tale came to Lang via a German collection of stories. It is not only terribly romantic, but contains some exciting fights between cat and dog, and cat and serpent. The Cat’s Elopement - In the Pond Life introduction, we discover what Bertie the Frog learnt at school when he was a handsome prince. Once upon a time there lived a cat of marvellous beauty, with a skin as soft and shining as silk, and wise green eyes, that could see even in the dark. His name was Gon, and he belonged to a music teacher, who was so fond and proud of him that he would not have parted with him for anything in the world. Now, not far from the music master’s house there dwelled a lady who possessed a most lovely little pussy cat called Koma. She was such a little dear altogether, who blinked her eyes so daintily, and ate her supper so tidily – and when she had finished, she licked her pink nose so delicately with her little tongue, that her mistress was never tired of saying: “Koma, Koma, what should I do without you?” Well, it happened one day that these two, when out for an evening stroll, met under a cherry tree, and in one moment fell madly in love with each other. Gon had long felt that it was time for him to find a wife, for all the ladies in the neighbourhood paid him so much attention that it made him quite shy. But he was not easy to please, and did not care about any of them. Now, before he had time to think, Cupid had entangled him in his net, and he was filled with love towards Koma. She fully returned his passion, but, like a woman, she saw the difficulties in the way, and consulted sadly with Gon as to the means of overcoming them. Gon entreated his master to set matters right by buying Koma, but her mistress would not part from her. Then the music master was asked to sell Gon to the lady, but he declined to listen to any such suggestion, so everything remained as before. At length the love of the couple grew to such a pitch that they determined to please themselves, and to seek their fortunes together. So one moonlit night they stole away, and ventured out into an unknown world. All day long they marched bravely on through the sunshine, until they had left their homes far behind them. Towards evening they found themselves in a large park. The wanderers by this time were very hot and tired, and the grass looked very soft and inviting, The trees cast cool deep shadows, when suddenly an ogre appeared in this paradise, in the shape of a big, big dog! He came springing towards them showing all his teeth. Koma shrieked, and rushed up a cherry tree. Gon, however, stood his ground boldly, and prepared to give battle – for he felt that Koma’s eyes were upon him, and that he must not run away. Alas! His courage would have availed him nothing had his enemy once touched him, for he was large and powerful, and very fierce. From her perch in the tree, Koma saw it all, and screamed with all her might, hoping that someone would hear and come to help. Luckily a servant of the princess to whom the park belonged to was walking by. He drove off the dog, and picking up the trembling Gon in his arms, carried him to his mistress. So poor little Koma was left alone, while Gon was borne away, full of trouble, and not in the least knowing what to do. Even the attention paid him by the princess, who was delighted with his beauty and pretty ways, did not console him. There was no use in fighting against fate, and he could only wait and see what would turn up. The princess, Gon’s new mistress, was so good and kind that everybody loved her, and she would have led a happy life, had it not been for a serpent who had fallen in love with her, and was constantly annoying her by his presence. Her servants had orders to drive him away as often as he appeared, but as they were careless, and the serpent very sly, it sometimes happened that he was able to slip past them, and frightened the princess by appearing before her. One day she was seated in her room, playing on her favourite musical instrument, when she felt something gliding up her sash, and saw her enemy making his way up to kiss her cheek. She shrieked and threw herself backwards, and Gon, who had been curled up on a stool at her feet, understood her terror – and with one bound, seized the snake by his neck. He gave him one bite and one shake, and flung him on the ground, where he lay, never to worry the princess any more. Then the princess took Gon in her arms, and praised and caressed him. She saw that he had the nicest bits to eat, and the softest mats to lie on; and he would have had nothing in the world to wish for if only he could have seen Koma again. Time passed on, and one morning Gon lay before the house door, basking in the sun. He looked lazily at the world stretched out before him, and saw in the distance a big ruffian of a cat teasing and ill-treating quite a little one. He jumped up, full of rage, and chased away the big cat, and then he turned to comfort the little one, when his heart nearly burst with joy to find that it was Koma. At first Koma did not know him again, he had grown so large and stately. But when it dawned upon her who it was, her happiness knew no bounds. They rubbed their heads and their noses again and again, while their purring might have been heard a mile off. Paw in paw they appeared before the princess, and told her the story of their life and its sorrows. The princess wept for sympathy, and promised that they should never more be parted, but should live with her to the end of their days. By-and-by, the princess herself got married, and brought a prince to dwell in the palace in the park. She told him all about her two cats, and how brave Gon had been, and how he had delivered her from her enemy the serpent. When the prince heard this, he swore they should never leave them, but should go with the princess wherever she went. So it all fell out as the princess wished and Gon and Koma had many children, and so had the princess. They all played together, and were friends to the end of their lives. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn114.txt b/text/sn114.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..471f013aa8b75312ce90517b5b9687fe9c85014a --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn114.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +From the Just So Stories of Rudyard Kipling Download the audio story here. The young elephant hero is full of questions. Why is his tall uncle the giraffe so spotty? Why are the eyes of his broad aunt the hippopotamus so red? Above all, he wants to know what the crocodile has for dinner. And in the end we learn how the elephant got his trunk. Read by Natasha. The duration is 25 minutes. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. The Elephants Child - In the high and far-off times the elephant, O best beloved, had no trunk. He had only a blackish, bulgy nose, as big as a boot, that he could wriggle about from side to side; but he couldn’t pick up things with it. But there was one elephant–a new elephant–an Elephant’s Child–who was full of satiable curtiosity, and that means he asked ever so many questions. And he lived in Africa, and he filled all Africa with his satiable curtiosities. He asked his tall aunt, the ostrich, why her tail-feathers grew just so, and his tall aunt the ostrich spanked him with her hard, hard claw. He asked his tall uncle, the giraffe, what made his skin spotty, and his tall uncle, the giraffe, spanked him with his hard, hard hoof. And still he was full of satiable curtiosity! He asked his broad aunt, the hippopotamus, why her eyes were red, and his broad aunt, the hippopotamus, spanked him with her broad, broad hoof; and he asked his hairy uncle, the baboon, why melons tasted just so, and his hairy uncle, the baboon, spanked him with his hairy, hairy paw. And still he was full of satiable curtiosity! He asked questions about everything that he saw, or heard, or felt, or smelt, or touched, and all his uncles and his aunts spanked him. And still he was full of satiable curtiosity! One fine morning in the middle of the precession of the Equinoxes this satiable Elephant’s Child asked a new fine question that he had never asked before. He asked: “What does the crocodile have for dinner?”Then everybody said: “Hush!”in a loud and dreadful tone, and they spanked him immediately and directly, without stopping, for a long time. By and by, when that was finished, he came upon Kolokolo Bird sitting in the middle of a wait-a-bit thorn-bush, and he said: “My father has spanked me, and my mother has spanked me; all my aunts and uncles have spanked me for my satiable curtiosity; and still I want to know what the crocodile has for dinner!” Then Kolokolo bird said, with a mournful cry: “Go to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, and find out.” That very next morning, when there was nothing left of the Equinoxes, because the precession had preceded according to precedent, this satiable Elephant’s Child took a hundred pounds of bananas (the little short red kind), and a hundred pounds of sugar-cane (the long purple kind), and seventeen melons (the greeny-crackly kind), and said to all his dear families: “Goodbye. I am going to the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to find out what the crocodile has for dinner.” And they all spanked him once more for luck, though he asked them most politely to stop. Then he went away, a little warm, but not at all astonished, eating melons, and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up. He went from Graham’s Town to Kimberley, and from Kimberley to Khama’s Country, and from Khama’s Country he went east by north, eating melons all the time, till at last he came to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, precisely as Kolokolo bird had said. Now you must know and understand, O best beloved, that till that very week, and day, and hour, and minute, this satiable Elephant’s Child had never seen a crocodile, and did not know what one was like. It was all his satiable curtiosity. The first thing that he found was a bi-coloured-python-rock-snake curled round a rock. “Scuse me,” said the Elephant’s Child most politely, “but have you seen such a thing as a crocodile in these promiscuous parts?” “Have I seen a crocodile?”said the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake, in a voice of dreadful scorn: “What will you ask me next?” “Scuse me,”said the Elephant’s Child, “but could you kindly tell me what he has for dinner?” Then the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake uncoiled himself very quickly from the rock, and spanked the Elephant’s Child with his scalesome, flailsome tail. “That is odd,” said the Elephant’s Child, “because my father and my mother, and my uncle and my aunt, not to mention my other aunt, the hippopotamus, and my other uncle, the baboon, have all spanked me for my satiable curtiosity–and I suppose this is the same thing. So he said good-bye very politely to the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake, and helped to coil him up on the rock again, and went on, a little warm, but not at all astonished, eating melons, and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up, till he trod on what he thought was a log of wood at the very edge of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees. But it was really the crocodile, O best beloved, and the crocodile winked one eye–like this! “Scuse me,” said the Elephant’s Child most politely, “but do you happen to have seen a crocodile in these promiscuous parts?” Then the Crocodile winked the other eye, and lifted half his tail out of the mud; and the Elephant’s Child stepped back most politely, because he did not wish to be spanked again. “Come hither, little one,” said the crocodile. “Why do you ask such things?” “Scuse me,”said the Elephant’s Child most politely, “but my father has spanked me, my mother has spanked me, not to mention my tall aunt, the ostrich, and my tall uncle, the giraffe, who can kick ever so hard, as well as my broad aunt, the hippopotamus, and my hairy uncle, the baboon, and including the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake, with the scalesome, flailsome tail, just up the bank, who spanks harder than any of them. And so, if it’s quite all the same to you, I don’t want to be spanked any more.” “Come hither, little one,”said the crocodile, “for I am the crocodile,” and he wept crocodile-tears to show it was quite true. Then the Elephant’s Child grew all breathless, and panted, and kneeled down on the bank and said: “You are the very person I have been looking for all these long days. Will you please tell me what you have for dinner?” “Come hither, little one,”said the crocodile, “and I’ll whisper.” Then the Elephant’s Child put his head down close to the crocodile’s musky, tusky mouth, and the crocodile caught him by his little nose, which up to that very week, day, hour, and minute, had been no bigger than a boot, though much more useful. “I think,”said the crocodile–and he said it between his teeth, like this “Ithink today I will begin with Elephant’s Child!” At this, O best beloved, the Elephant’s Child was much annoyed, and he said, speaking through his nose, like this: “Led go! You are hurtig be!” Then the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake scuffled down from the bank and said: “My young friend, if you do not now, immediately and instantly, pull as hard as ever you can, it is my opinion that your acquaintance in the large-pattern leather ulster”(and by this he meant the crocodile) “will jerk you into yonder limpid stream before you can say Jack Robinson.” This is the way bi-coloured-python-rock-snakes always talk. Then the Elephant’s Child sat back on his little haunches, and pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and his nose began to stretch. And the crocodile floundered into the water, making it all creamy with great sweeps of his tail, and he pulled, and pulled, and pulled. And the Elephant’s Child’s nose kept on stretching; and the Elephant’s Child spread all his little four legs and pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and his nose kept on stretching; and the crocodile threshed his tail like an oar, and he pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and at each pull the Elephant’s Child’s nose grew longer and longer–and it hurt him hijjus! Then the Elephant’s Child felt his legs slipping, and he said through his nose, which was now nearly five feet long: “This is too butch for be!” Then the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake came down from the bank, and knotted himself in a double-clove-hitch round the Elephant’s Child’s hind legs, and said: “Rash and inexperienced traveller, we will now seriously devote ourselves to a little high tension, because if we do not, it is my impression that yonder self-propelling man-of-war with the armour-plated upper deck”(and by this, O best beloved, he meant the crocodile), “will permanently vitiate your future career.” That is the way all bi-coloured-python-rock-snakes always talk. So he pulled, and the Elephant’s Child pulled, and the crocodile pulled; but the Elephant’s Child and the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake pulled hardest; and at last the crocodile let go of the Elephant’s Child’s nose with a plop that you could hear all up and down the Limpopo. Then the Elephant’s Child sat down most hard and sudden; but first he was careful to say ‘Thank you” to the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake; and next he was kind to his poor pulled nose, and wrapped it all up in cool banana leaves, and hung it in the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo to cool. “What are you doing that for?” said the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake. “Scuse me,” said the Elephant’s Child, “but my nose is badly out of shape, and I am waiting for it to shrink.” “Then you will have to wait a long time, said the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake. “Some people do not know what is good for them.” The Elephant’s Child sat there for three days waiting for his nose to shrink. But it never grew any shorter, and, besides, it made him squint. For, O best beloved, you will see and understand that the crocodile had pulled it out into a really truly trunk same as all Elephants have today. At the end of the third day a fly came and stung him on the shoulder, and before he knew what he was doing he lifted up his trunk and hit that fly dead with the end of it. ”Vantage number one!” said the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake. “You couldn’t have done that with a mere-smear nose. Try and eat a little now.” Before he thought what he was doing the Elephant’s Child put out his trunk and plucked a large bundle of grass, dusted it clean against his fore-legs, and stuffed it into his own mouth. “Vantage number two!” said the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake. “You couldn’t have done that with a mear-smear nose. Don’t you think the sun is very hot here?” “It is,”said the Elephant’s Child, and before he thought what he was doing he schlooped up a schloop of mud from the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo, and slapped it on his head, where it made a cool schloopy-sloshy mud-cap all trickly behind his ears. “Vantage number three!”said the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake. “You couldn’t have done that with a mere-smear nose. Now how do you feel about being spanked again?” “Scuse me,” said the Elephant’s Child, “but I should not like it at all.” “How would you like to spank somebody?” said the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake. “Ishould like it very much indeed,”said the Elephant’s Child. “Well,” said the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake, “you will find that new nose of yours very useful to spank people with.” “Thank you,” said the Elephant’s Child, “I’ll remember that; and now I think I’ll go home to all my dear families and try.” So the Elephant’s Child went home across Africa frisking and whisking his trunk. When he wanted fruit to eat he pulled fruit down from a tree, instead of waiting for it to fall as he used to do. When he wanted grass he plucked grass up from the ground, instead of going on his knees as he used to do. When the flies bit him he broke off the branch of a tree and used it as fly-whisk; and he made himself a new, cool, slushy-squshy mud-cap whenever the sun was hot. When he felt lonely walking through Africa he sang to himself down his trunk, and the noise was louder than several brass bands. He went especially out of his way to find a broad hippopotamus (she was no relation of his), and he spanked her very hard, to make sure that the bi-coloured-python-rock-snake had spoken the truth about his new trunk. The rest of the time he picked up the melon rinds that he had dropped on his way to the Limpopo–for he was a Tidy Pachyderm. One dark evening he came back to all his dear families, and he coiled up his trunk and said: “How do you do?”They were very glad to see him, and immediately said: “Come here and be spanked for your satiable curiosity.” “Pooh,”said the Elephant’s Child. “I don’t think you people know anything about spanking; but I do, and I’ll show you.”Then he uncurled his trunk and knocked two of his dear brothers head over heels. “O bananas!”said they, “where did you learn that trick, and what have you done to your nose?” “Igot a new one from the crocodile on the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River,” said the Elephant’s Child. “I asked him what he had for dinner, and he gave me this to keep.” “It looks very ugly,”said his hairy uncle, the baboon. “It does,”said the Elephant’s Child. “But it’s very useful,” and he picked up his hairy uncle, the baboon, by one hairy leg, and hove him into a hornet’s nest. Then that bad Elephant’s Child spanked all his dear families for a long time, till they were very warm and greatly astonished. He pulled out his tall ostrich aunt’s tail-feathers; and he caught his tall uncle, the giraffe, by the hind-leg, and dragged him through a thorn-bush; and he shouted at his broad aunt, the hippopotamus, and blew bubbles into her ear when she was sleeping in the water after meals; but he never let any one touch Kolokolo bird. At last things grew so exciting that his dear families went off one by one in a hurry to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to borrow new noses from the crocodile. When they came back nobody spanked anybody any more; and ever since that day, O best beloved, all the Elephants you will ever see, besides all those that you won’t, have trunks precisely like the trunk of the satiable Elephant’s Child. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn115.txt b/text/sn115.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..350f9d6a1c112ce1f2cdb0b0d6d76cefdd51be23 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn115.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +From The Brown Fairy Book of Andrew Lang Kissa the Cat This charming story about a princess who is rescued by a magical cat originally came from Denmark – but as it happens, “kissa” is Russian for pussycat. Look out for the scary giant. We’ve adapted it slightly, as the original had some rather bloodthirsty bits. Proofread by Claire Deakin. Hello Everybody, my name’s Natasha, and his Royal Highness Prince Bertie the frog has commanded me to tell you the Storynory of Kissa the Cat. Now Prince Bertie the Frog is not too sure whether he likes cats. As you know, before Bertie became a frog, he used to be a handsome prince. The palace cat used to sit on his lap and purr, and in those days, he liked cats very much. But now he’s a frog, he has a rather different point of view. If you are frog, and you see a cat who is much bigger than you and has very sharp claws, you can get a little bit frightened, especially when it’s in the habit of creeping silently up behind various birds and creatures, and jumping on them. But this Storynory is about a very nice cat called Kissa, and it’s from Andrew Lang’s Brown Fairy Book. If you like this story, you will also enjoy The Cat’s Elopement Read by Natasha, Duration 15 minutes. Kissa the Cat Once upon a time there lived a queen who had a beautiful cat, the colour of smoke and with china blue eyes, which she was very fond of. The cat was constantly with her, and ran after her wherever she went, and even sat up proudly by her side when she drove out in her fine glass coach. "Oh, pussy," said the queen one day, "you are happier than I am! For you have a dear kitten just like yourself, and I have nobody to play with but you." "Don’t cry," answered the cat, laying her paw on her mistress’ arm. "Crying never does any good. I will see what can be done." The cat was as good as her word. As soon as she returned from her drive she trotted off to the forest to consult a fairy who dwelled there, and very soon after the queen had a little girl, who seemed to be made out of snow and sunbeams, and she called her Princess Ingibjorg. The queen was delighted, and soon the baby began to take notice of Kissa the kitten as she jumped about the room, and would not go to sleep at all unless the kitten lay curled up beside her. Two or three months went by, and though the baby was still a baby, the kitten was fast becoming a cat, and one evening when, as usual, the nurse came to look for her, to put her in the baby’s cot, she was nowhere to be found. What a hunt there was for that kitten, to be sure! The servants, each anxious to find her, as the queen was certain to reward the lucky man, searched in the most impossible places. Boxes were opened that would hardly have held the kitten’s paw; books were taken from bookshelves, lest the kitten should have gotten behind them, drawers were pulled out, for perhaps the kitten might have been shut in. It was all no use though - the kitten had plainly run away, and nobody could tell if it would ever choose to come back. Years passed by, and one day, when the princess was playing ball in the garden, she happened to throw her ball farther than usual, and it fell into a clump of rose-bushes. The princess of course ran after it at once, and she was stooping down to feel if it was hidden in the long grass, when she heard a voice calling her."Ingibjorg! Ingibjorg!" It said. "Have you forgotten me? I am Kissa, your sister!" "But I never had a sister," answered Ingibjorg, very much puzzled - for she knew nothing of what had taken place so long ago. How could she suspect that a little kitten was practically her sister? "Don’t you remember how I always slept in your cot beside you, and how you cried until I came? Girls have no memories at all! Why, I could find my way straight up to that cot this moment, if I were once inside the palace." "Why did you go away then?" Asked the princess. Before Kissa could answer, little Princess Ingibjorg’s attendants arrived breathless on the scene, and were so horrified at the sight of a strange cat, that Kissa plunged into the bushes and went back to the forest. The princess was angry with her ladies-in-waiting for frightening away her old playfellow, and told the queen who came to her room every evening to bid her goodnight. "Yes, it is quite true what Kissa said," answered the queen. "I should have liked to see her again. Perhaps, some day, she will return, and then you must bring her to me." Next morning it was very hot, and the princess declared that she must go and play in the forest, where it was always cool under the big shady trees. As usual, her attendants let her do anything she pleased, and sitting down on a mossy bank where a little stream tinkled by, soon fell sound asleep. The princess saw with delight that they would pay no heed to her, and wandered on and on, expecting any moment to see some fairies dancing round a ring, or some little brown elves peeping at her from behind a tree. But, alas! she met none of these. Instead, a horrible giant came out of his cave and ordered her to follow him. The princess felt much afraid, as he was so big and ugly, and began to be sorry that she had not stayed within reach of help, but as there was no use in disobeying the giant, she walked meekly behind. They went a long way, and Princess Ingibjorg grew very tired, and at length began to cry. "I don’t like girls who make horrid noises," said the giant, turning around. "But if you want to cry, I will give you something to cry for." And with those words he started to draw his axe from his belt. Ingibjorg became very frightened and started to run. Fortunately, although the giant was very big and had long legs, he was also very fat, so he couldn’t run quickly. As Ingibjorg escaped, she lost her slippers that were embroidered with gold thread and studded with precious stones, which were special slippers made for a princess. On she ran in her bare feet, which soon became very cut and full of thorns. She did not look around to see the giant stopping down to pick up her expensive slippers. She ran into a part of the forest that was too thick and overgrown for him to find her, and finally she got away from that wicked giant, who would surely have killed her with his axe if he could have done. Now she was quite lost. How long it was since she had set out in the morning she could not tell - it seemed years to her. Her legs were cut by brambles and thorns and a wasp had stung her on the nose. Eventually she lay down and started to cry. Darkness came over, and she was shivering all night with cold. When she woke up, she was hungry and thirsty. “Now I shall surely die!” she said to herself. The sun was still high in the heavens when she heard the sound of wheels, and then, with a great effort, for her throat was parched with fright and pain, she gave a shout. "I am coming!" Was the answer, and in another moment a cart made its way through the trees, driven by Kissa, who used her tail as a whip to urge the horse to go faster. Directly, Kissa saw Ingibjorg lying there, she jumped quickly down, and lifting the girl carefully in her two front paws, laid her upon some soft hay, and drove back to her own little hut. In the corner of the room was a pile of cushions, and these Kissa arranged as a bed. Princess Ingibjorg, who by this time was nearly fainting from all she had gone through, drank some milk greedily, and then sank back on the cushions while Kissa fetched some dried herbs from a cupboard, soaked them in warm water and tended to her cuts and bruises. The pain vanished at once, and Ingibjorg looked up and smiled at Kissa. "You will go to sleep now," said the cat, "for you have a fever and must rest. You will not mind if I leave you for a little while. I will lock the door, and no one can hurt you." But before she had finished the princess was asleep. Kissa got into the cart, which was standing at the door, and catching up the reins, drove straight to the giant’s cave. Leaving her cart behind some trees, Kissa crept gently up to the open door, and crouching down, listened to what the giant was telling his wife, who was at supper with him. "The first day that I can spare I shall just go back and kill her," he said. "It would never do for people in the forest to know that a mere girl can defy me!" He and his wife were so busy calling Ingibjorg all sorts of names for her bad behaviour, that they never noticed Kissa stealing into a dark corner, and upsetting a whole bag of salt into the great pot before the fire. By-and-By the giant and giantess had the salty soup for their supper. "Dear me, how thirsty I am!" Cried the giant after supper - for the salt had made him so. "So am I," answered the wife. "I do wish I had not taken that last spoonful of broth; I am sure something was wrong with it." "If I don’t get some water I shall die," went on the giant. Rushing out of the cave, followed by his wife, he ran down the path which led to the river. Then Kissa entered the hut, and lost no time in searching every hole until she came upon some grass, under which Ingibjorg’s gold embroidered slippers were hidden, and putting them in her cart, drove back again to her own hut. Ingibjorg was thankful to see her, for she had lain, too frightened to sleep, trembling at every noise. "Oh, is it you?" She cried joyfully, as Kissa turned the key. The cat came in, holding up the two neat little slippers. “Now if you are feeling better, it is time to take you home,” said Kissa. When the cat drove the cart up to the palace gate, lashing the horse furiously with her tail, and the king and queen saw their lost daughter sitting beside her, they declared that no reward could be too great for the person who had brought her out of the giant’s hands. "We will talk about that by-and-by," said the cat, as she made her best bow, and turned her horse’s head. The princess was very unhappy when Kissa left her without even bidding her farewell. She would neither eat nor drink, nor take any notice of all the beautiful dresses her parents bought for her. "She will die, unless we can make her laugh," one whispered to the other. "Is there anything in the world that we have left untried?" "Nothing except marriage," answered the King. He invited all the handsomest young men he could think of to the palace, and bade the princess choose a husband from among them. It took her some time to decide which she admired the most, but at last she fixed upon a young prince, whose eyes were like the pools in the forest, and his hair of bright gold. The king and the queen were greatly pleased, as the young man was the son of a neighbouring king, and they gave orders that a splendid feast should be made ready. When the wedding was over, Kissa suddenly stood before them, and Ingibjorg rushed forward and clasped her in her arms. "I have come to claim my reward," said the cat. "Let me sleep for this night at the foot of your bed." "Is that all?" Asked Ingibjorg, much disappointed. "It is enough," answered the cat. When the morning dawned, it was no cat that lay upon the bed, but a beautiful princess. "My mother and I were both put under an evil spell by a spiteful fairy," said she. "We could not free ourselves until we had done some kindly deed that had never been wrought before. My mother died without ever finding a chance of doing anything new, but I saved you from the forest, and now am turned back into a princess." Then they were all more delighted than before, and the princess lived in the court until she too married. And that’s the Storynory, of Kissa the cat, who was really a princess. Bertie the frog likes this storynory because he once once a handsome prince. He hopes to turn back into a royal person one day, just like Kissa the cat did. You can help him by listening to all his free stories which you can find on Storynory.com. While you are there, you can also drop into Bertie’s online shop. I’ll be back with another Storynory soon. Until then, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn116.txt b/text/sn116.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a2884c6a1b7064beffe8882012a4123690af0f1d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn116.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 25 Minutes. This is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the Tailorbird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice, but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting. He was a mongoose, rather like a little cat in his fur and his tail, but quite like a weasel in his head and his habits. His eyes and the end of his restless nose were pink. He could scratch himself anywhere he pleased with any leg, front or back, that he chose to use. He could fluff up his tail till it looked like a bottle brush, and his war cry as he scuttled through the long grass was: "Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!" One day, a high summer flood washed him out of the burrow where he lived with his father and mother, and carried him, kicking and clucking, down a roadside ditch. He found a little wisp of grass floating there, and clung to it till he lost his senses. When he revived, he was lying in the hot sun on the middle of a garden path, very draggled indeed, and a small boy was saying, "Here\'s a dead mongoose. Let\'s have a funeral." "No," said his mother, "let\'s take him in and dry him. Perhaps he isn\'t really dead." They took him into the house, and a big man picked him up between his finger and thumb and said he was not dead but half choked. So they wrapped him in cotton wool, and warmed him over a little fire, and he opened his eyes and sneezed. "Now," said the big man (he was an Englishman who had just moved into the bungalow), "don\'t frighten him, and we\'ll see what he\'ll do." It is the hardest thing in the world to frighten a mongoose, because he is eaten up from nose to tail with curiosity. The motto of all the mongoose family is "Run and find out," and Rikki-tikki was a true mongoose. He looked at the cotton wool, decided that it was not good to eat, ran all round the table, sat up and put his fur in order, scratched himself, and jumped on the small boy\'s shoulder. "Don\'t be frightened, Teddy," said his father. "That\'s his way of making friends." "Ouch! He\'s tickling under my chin," said Teddy. Rikki-tikki looked down between the boy\'s collar and neck, snuffed at his ear, and climbed down to the floor, where he sat rubbing his nose. "Good gracious," said Teddy\'s mother, "and that\'s a wild creature! I suppose he\'s so tame because we\'ve been kind to him." "All mongooses are like that," said her husband. "If Teddy doesn\'t pick him up by the tail, or try to put him in a cage, he\'ll run in and out of the house all day long. Let\'s give him something to eat." They gave him a little piece of raw meat. Rikki-tikki liked it immensely, and when it was finished he went out into the veranda and sat in the sunshine and fluffed up his fur to make it dry to the roots. Then he felt better. "There are more things to find out about in this house," he said to himself, "than all my family could find out in all their lives. I shall certainly stay and find out." He spent all that day roaming over the house. He nearly drowned himself in the bath-tubs, put his nose into the ink on a writing table, and burned it on the end of the big man\'s cigar, for he climbed up in the big man\'s lap to see how writing was done. At nightfall he ran into Teddy\'s nursery to watch how kerosene lamps were lighted, and when Teddy went to bed Rikki-tikki climbed up too. But he was a restless companion, because he had to get up and attend to every noise all through the night, and find out what made it. Teddy\'s mother and father came in, the last thing, to look at their boy, and Rikki-tikki was awake on the pillow. "I don\'t like that," said Teddy\'s mother. "He may bite the child." "He\'ll do no such thing," said the father. "Teddy\'s safer with that little beast than if he had a bloodhound to watch him. If a snake came into the nursery now--" But Teddy\'s mother wouldn\'t think of anything so awful. Early in the morning Rikki-tikki came to early breakfast in the veranda riding on Teddy\'s shoulder, and they gave him banana and some boiled egg. He sat on all their laps one after the other, because every well-brought-up mongoose always hopes to be a house mongoose some day and have rooms to run about in; and Rikki-tikki\'s mother (she used to live in the general\'s house at Segowlee) had carefully told Rikki what to do if ever he came across white men. Then Rikki-tikki went out into the garden to see what was to be seen. It was a large garden, only half cultivated, with bushes, as big as summer-houses, of Marshal Niel roses, lime and orange trees, clumps of bamboos, and thickets of high grass. Rikki-tikki licked his lips. "This is a splendid hunting-ground," he said, and his tail grew bottle-brushy at the thought of it, and he scuttled up and down the garden, snuffing here and there till he heard very sorrowful voices in a thorn-bush. It was Darzee, the Tailorbird, and his wife. They had made a beautiful nest by pulling two big leaves together and stitching them up the edges with fibers, and had filled the hollow with cotton and downy fluff. The nest swayed to and fro, as they sat on the rim and cried. "What is the matter?" asked Rikki-tikki. "We are very miserable," said Darzee. "One of our babies fell out of the nest yesterday and Nag ate him." "H\'m!" said Rikki-tikki, "that is very sad--but I am a stranger here. Who is Nag?" Darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss--a horrid cold sound that made Rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet. Then inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of Nag, the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail. When he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion tuft balances in the wind, and he looked at Rikki-tikki with the wicked snake\'s eyes that never change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of. "Who is Nag?" said he. "I am Nag. The great God Brahm put his mark upon all our people, when the first cobra spread his hood to keep the sun off Brahm as he slept. Look, and be afraid!" He spread out his hood more than ever, and Rikki-tikki saw the spectacle-mark on the back of it that looks exactly like the eye part of a hook-and-eye fastening. He was afraid for the minute, but it is impossible for a mongoose to stay frightened for any length of time, and though Rikki-tikki had never met a live cobra before, his mother had fed him on dead ones, and he knew that all a grown mongoose\'s business in life was to fight and eat snakes. Nag knew that too and, at the bottom of his cold heart, he was afraid. "Well," said Rikki-tikki, and his tail began to fluff up again, "marks or no marks, do you think it is right for you to eat fledglings out of a nest?" Nag was thinking to himself, and watching the least little movement in the grass behind Rikki-tikki. He knew that mongooses in the garden meant death sooner or later for him and his family, but he wanted to get Rikki-tikki off his guard. So he dropped his head a little, and put it on one side. "Let us talk," he said. "You eat eggs. Why should not I eat birds?" "Behind you! Look behind you!" sang Darzee.', "Rikki-tikki knew better than to waste time in staring. He jumped up in the air as high as he could go, and just under him whizzed by the head of Nagaina, Nag's wicked wife. She had crept up behind him as he was talking, to make an end of him. He heard her savage hiss as the stroke missed. He came down almost across her back, and if he had been an old mongoose he would have known that then was the time to break her back with one bite; but he was afraid of the terrible lashing return stroke of the cobra. He bit, indeed, but did not bite long enough, and he jumped clear of the whisking tail, leaving Nagaina torn and angry.", '"Wicked, wicked Darzee!" said Nag, lashing up as high as he could reach toward the nest in the thorn-bush. But Darzee had built it out of reach of snakes, and it only swayed to and fro. Rikki-tikki felt his eyes growing red and hot (when a mongoose\'s eyes grow red, he is angry), and he sat back on his tail and hind legs like a little kangaroo, and looked all round him, and chattered with rage. But Nag and Nagaina had disappeared into the grass. When a snake misses its stroke, it never says anything or gives any sign of what it means to do next. Rikki-tikki did not care to follow them, for he did not feel sure that he could manage two snakes at once. So he trotted off to the gravel path near the house, and sat down to think. It was a serious matter for him. If you read the old books of natural history, you will find they say that when the mongoose fights the snake and happens to get bitten, he runs off and eats some herb that cures him. That is not true. The victory is only a matter of quickness of eye and quickness of foot--snake\'s blow against mongoose\'s jump--and as no eye can follow the motion of a snake\'s head when it strikes, this makes things much more wonderful than any magic herb. Rikki-tikki knew he was a young mongoose, and it made him all the more pleased to think that he had managed to escape a blow from behind. It gave him confidence in himself, and when Teddy came running down the path, Rikki-tikki was ready to be petted. But just as Teddy was stooping, something wriggled a little in the dust, and a tiny voice said: "Be careful. I am Death!" It was Karait, the dusty brown snakeling that lies for choice on the dusty earth; and his bite is as dangerous as the cobra\'s. But he is so small that nobody thinks of him, and so he does the more harm to people. Rikki-tikki\'s eyes grew red again, and he danced up to Karait with the peculiar rocking, swaying motion that he had inherited from his family. It looks very funny, but it is so perfectly balanced a gait that you can fly off from it at any angle you please, and in dealing with snakes this is an advantage. If Rikki-tikki had only known, he was doing a much more dangerous thing than fighting Nag, for Karait is so small, and can turn so quickly, that unless Rikki bit him close to the back of the head, he would get the return stroke in his eye or his lip. But Rikki did not know. His eyes were all red, and he rocked back and forth, looking for a good place to hold. Karait struck out. Rikki jumped sideways and tried to run in, but the wicked little dusty gray head lashed within a fraction of his shoulder, and he had to jump over the body, and the head followed his heels close. Teddy shouted to the house: "Oh, look here! Our mongoose is killing a snake." And Rikki-tikki heard a scream from Teddy\'s mother. His father ran out with a stick, but by the time he came up, Karait had lunged out once too far, and Rikki-tikki had sprung, jumped on the snake\'s back, dropped his head far between his forelegs, bitten as high up the back as he could get hold, and rolled away. That bite paralyzed Karait, and Rikki-tikki was just going to eat him up from the tail, after the custom of his family at dinner, when he remembered that a full meal makes a slow mongoose, and if he wanted all his strength and quickness ready, he must keep himself thin. He went away for a dust bath under the castor-oil bushes, while Teddy\'s father beat the dead Karait. "What is the use of that?" thought Rikki-tikki. "I have settled it all;" and then Teddy\'s mother picked him up from the dust and hugged him, crying that he had saved Teddy from death, and Teddy\'s father said that he was a providence, and Teddy looked on with big scared eyes. Rikki-tikki was rather amused at all the fuss, which, of course, he did not understand. Teddy\'s mother might just as well have petted Teddy for playing in the dust. Rikki was thoroughly enjoying himself. That night at dinner, walking to and fro among the wine-glasses on the table, he might have stuffed himself three times over with nice things. But he remembered Nag and Nagaina, and though it was very pleasant to be patted and petted by Teddy\'s mother, and to sit on Teddy\'s shoulder, his eyes would get red from time to time, and he would go off into his long war cry of "Rikk-tikk-tikki-tikki-tchk!" Teddy carried him off to bed, and insisted on Rikki-tikki sleeping under his chin. Rikki-tikki was too well bred to bite or scratch, but as soon as Teddy was asleep he went off for his nightly walk round the house, and in the dark he ran up against Chuchundra, the musk-rat, creeping around by the wall. Chuchundra is a broken-hearted little beast. He whimpers and cheeps all the night, trying to make up his mind to run into the middle of the room. But he never gets there. "Don\'t kill me," said Chuchundra, almost weeping. "Rikki-tikki, don\'t kill me!" "Do you think a snake-killer kills muskrats?" said Rikki-tikki scornfully. "Those who kill snakes get killed by snakes," said Chuchundra, more sorrowfully than ever. "And how am I to be sure that Nag won\'t mistake me for you some dark night?" "There\'s not the least danger," said Rikki-tikki. "But Nag is in the garden, and I know you don\'t go there." "My cousin Chua, the rat, told me--" said Chuchundra, and then he stopped. "Told you what?" "H\'sh! Nag is everywhere, Rikki-tikki. You should have talked to Chua in the garden." "I didn\'t--so you must tell me. Quick, Chuchundra, or I\'ll bite you!" Chuchundra sat down and cried till the tears rolled off his whiskers. "I am a very poor man," he sobbed. "I never had spirit enough to run out into the middle of the room. H\'sh! I mustn\'t tell you anything. Can\'t you hear, Rikki-tikki?" Rikki-tikki listened. The house was as still as still, but he thought he could just catch the faintest scratch-scratch in the world--a noise as faint as that of a wasp walking on a window-pane--the dry scratch of a snake\'s scales on brick-work. "That\'s Nag or Nagaina," he said to himself, "and he is crawling into the bath-room sluice. You\'re right, Chuchundra; I should have talked to Chua." He stole off to Teddy\'s bath-room, but there was nothing there, and then to Teddy\'s mother\'s bathroom. At the bottom of the smooth plaster wall there was a brick pulled out to make a sluice for the bath water, and as Rikki-tikki stole in by the masonry curb where the bath is put, he heard Nag and Nagaina whispering together outside in the moonlight. "When the house is emptied of people," said Nagaina to her husband, "he will have to go away, and then the garden will be our own again. Go in quietly, and remember that the big man who killed Karait is the first one to bite. Then come out and tell me, and we will hunt for Rikki-tikki together." "But are you sure that there is anything to be gained by killing the people?" said Nag. "Everything. When there were no people in the bungalow, did we have any mongoose in the garden? So long as the bungalow is empty, we are king and queen of the garden; and remember that as soon as our eggs in the melon bed hatch (as they may tomorrow), our children will need room and quiet." "I had not thought of that," said Nag. "I will go, but there is no need that we should hunt for Rikki-tikki afterward. I will kill the big man and his wife, and the child if I can, and come away quietly. Then the bungalow will be empty, and Rikki-tikki will go." Rikki-tikki tingled all over with rage and hatred at this, and then Nag\'s head came through the sluice, and his five feet of cold body followed it. Angry as he was, Rikki-tikki was very frightened as he saw the size of the big cobra. Nag coiled himself up, raised his head, and looked into the bathroom in the dark, and Rikki could see his eyes glitter. "Now, if I kill him here, Nagaina will know; and if I fight him on the open floor, the odds are in his favor. What am I to do?" said Rikki-tikki-tavi. Nag waved to and fro, and then Rikki-tikki heard him drinking from the biggest water-jar that was used to fill the bath. "That is good," said the snake. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn117.txt b/text/sn117.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f0243f40c88e674e6d4fa0497756a8efa091a194 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn117.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download Rikki-tikki-tavi Part Two This exciting story is read by Natasha. Duration 25 minutes and 10 seconds "But are you sure that there is anything to be gained by killing the people?" said Nag. "Everything. When there were no people in the bungalow, did we have any mongoose in the garden? So long as the bungalow is empty, we are king and queen of the garden; and remember that as soon as our eggs in the melon bed hatch (as they may tomorrow), our children will need room and quiet." "I had not thought of that," said Nag. "I will go, but there is no need that we should hunt for Rikki-tikki afterward. I will kill the big man and his wife, and the child if I can, and come away quietly. Then the bungalow will be empty, and Rikki-tikki will go." Rikki-tikki tingled all over with rage and hatred at this, and then Nag\'s head came through the sluice, and his five feet of cold body followed it. Angry as he was, Rikki-tikki was very frightened as he saw the size of the big cobra. Nag coiled himself up, raised his head, and looked into the bathroom in the dark, and Rikki could see his eyes glitter. "Now, if I kill him here, Nagaina will know; and if I fight him on the open floor, the odds are in his favor. What am I to do?" said Rikki-tikki-tavi. Nag waved to and fro, and then Rikki-tikki heard him drinking from the biggest water-jar that was used to fill the bath. "That is good," said the snake. "Now, when Karait was killed, the big man had a stick. He may have that stick still, but when he comes in to bathe in the morning he will not have a stick. I shall wait here till he comes. Nagaina--do you hear me?--I shall wait here in the cool till daytime." There was no answer from outside, so Rikki-tikki knew Nagaina had gone away. Nag coiled himself down, coil by coil, round the bulge at the bottom of the water jar, and Rikki-tikki stayed still as death. After an hour he began to move, muscle by muscle, toward the jar. Nag was asleep, and Rikki-tikki looked at his big back, wondering which would be the best place for a good hold. "If I don\'t break his back at the first jump," said Rikki, "he can still fight. And if he fights--O Rikki!" He looked at the thickness of the neck below the hood, but that was too much for him; and a bite near the tail would only make Nag savage. "It must be the head"\' he said at last; "the head above the hood. And, when I am once there, I must not let go." Then he jumped. The head was lying a little clear of the water jar, under the curve of it; and, as his teeth met, Rikki braced his back against the bulge of the red earthenware to hold down the head. This gave him just one second\'s purchase, and he made the most of it. Then he was battered to and fro as a rat is shaken by a dog--to and fro on the floor, up and down, and around in great circles, but his eyes were red and he held on as the body cart-whipped over the floor, upsetting the tin dipper and the soap dish and the flesh brush, and banged against the tin side of the bath. As he held he closed his jaws tighter and tighter, for he made sure he would be banged to death, and, for the honor of his family, he preferred to be found with his teeth locked. He was dizzy, aching, and felt shaken to pieces when something went off like a thunderclap just behind him. A hot wind knocked him senseless and red fire singed his fur. The big man had been wakened by the noise, and had fired both barrels of a shotgun into Nag just behind the hood. Rikki-tikki held on with his eyes shut, for now he was quite sure he was dead. But the head did not move, and the big man picked him up and said, "It\'s the mongoose again, Alice. The little chap has saved our lives now." Then Teddy\'s mother came in with a very white face, and saw what was left of Nag, and Rikki-tikki dragged himself to Teddy\'s bedroom and spent half the rest of the night shaking himself tenderly to find out whether he really was broken into forty pieces, as he fancied. When morning came he was very stiff, but well pleased with his doings. "Now I have Nagaina to settle with, and she will be worse than five Nags, and there\'s no knowing when the eggs she spoke of will hatch. Goodness! I must go and see Darzee," he said. Without waiting for breakfast, Rikki-tikki ran to the thornbush where Darzee was singing a song of triumph at the top of his voice. The news of Nag\'s death was all over the garden, for the sweeper had thrown the body on the rubbish-heap. "Oh, you stupid tuft of feathers!" said Rikki-tikki angrily. "Is this the time to sing?" "Nag is dead--is dead--is dead!" sang Darzee. "The valiant Rikki-tikki caught him by the head and held fast. The big man brought the bang-stick, and Nag fell in two pieces! He will never eat my babies again." "All that\'s true enough. But where\'s Nagaina?" said Rikki-tikki, looking carefully round him. "Nagaina came to the bathroom sluice and called for Nag," Darzee went on, "and Nag came out on the end of a stick--the sweeper picked him up on the end of a stick and threw him upon the rubbish heap. Let us sing about the great, the red-eyed Rikki-tikki!" And Darzee filled his throat and sang. "If I could get up to your nest, I\'d roll your babies out!" said Rikki-tikki. "You don\'t know when to do the right thing at the right time. You\'re safe enough in your nest there, but it\'s war for me down here. Stop singing a minute, Darzee." "For the great, the beautiful Rikki-tikki\'s sake I will stop," said Darzee. "What is it, O Killer of the terrible Nag?" "Where is Nagaina, for the third time?" "On the rubbish heap by the stables, mourning for Nag. Great is Rikki-tikki with the white teeth." "Bother my white teeth! Have you ever heard where she keeps her eggs?" "In the melon bed, on the end nearest the wall, where the sun strikes nearly all day. She hid them there weeks ago." "And you never thought it worth while to tell me? The end nearest the wall, you said?" "Rikki-tikki, you are not going to eat her eggs?" "Not eat exactly; no. Darzee, if you have a grain of sense you will fly off to the stables and pretend that your wing is broken, and let Nagaina chase you away to this bush. I must get to the melon-bed, and if I went there now she\'d see me." Darzee was a feather-brained little fellow who could never hold more than one idea at a time in his head. And just because he knew that Nagaina\'s children were born in eggs like his own, he didn\'t think at first that it was fair to kill them. But his wife was a sensible bird, and she knew that cobra\'s eggs meant young cobras later on. So she flew off from the nest, and left Darzee to keep the babies warm, and continue his song about the death of Nag. Darzee was very like a man in some ways. She fluttered in front of Nagaina by the rubbish heap and cried out, "Oh, my wing is broken! The boy in the house threw a stone at me and broke it." Then she fluttered more desperately than ever. Nagaina lifted up her head and hissed, "You warned Rikki-tikki when I would have killed him. Indeed and truly, you\'ve chosen a bad place to be lame in." And she moved toward Darzee\'s wife, slipping along over the dust. "The boy broke it with a stone!" shrieked Darzee\'s wife. "Well! It may be some consolation to you when you\'re dead to know that I shall settle accounts with the boy. My husband lies on the rubbish heap this morning, but before night the boy in the house will lie very still. What is the use of running away? I am sure to catch you. Little fool, look at me!" Darzee\'s wife knew better than to do that, for a bird who looks at a snake\'s eyes gets so frightened that she cannot move. Darzee\'s wife fluttered on, piping sorrowfully, and never leaving the ground, and Nagaina quickened her pace. Rikki-tikki heard them going up the path from the stables, and he raced for the end of the melon patch near the wall. There, in the warm litter above the melons, very cunningly hidden, he found twenty-five eggs, about the size of a bantam\'s eggs, but with whitish skin instead of shell. "I was not a day too soon," he said, for he could see the baby cobras curled up inside the skin, and he knew that the minute they were hatched they could each kill a man or a mongoose. He bit off the tops of the eggs as fast as he could, taking care to crush the young cobras, and turned over the litter from time to time to see whether he had missed any. At last there were only three eggs left, and Rikki-tikki began to chuckle to himself, when he heard Darzee\'s wife screaming: "Rikki-tikki, I led Nagaina toward the house, and she has gone into the veranda, and--oh, come quickly--she means killing!" Rikki-tikki smashed two eggs, and tumbled backward down the melon-bed with the third egg in his mouth, and scuttled to the veranda as hard as he could put foot to the ground. Teddy and his mother and father were there at early breakfast, but Rikki-tikki saw that they were not eating anything. They sat stone-still, and their faces were white. Nagaina was coiled up on the matting by Teddy\'s chair, within easy striking distance of Teddy\'s bare leg, and she was swaying to and fro, singing a song of triumph. "Son of the big man that killed Nag," she hissed, "stay still. I am not ready yet. Wait a little. Keep very still, all you three! If you move I strike, and if you do not move I strike. Oh, foolish people, who killed my Nag!" Teddy\'s eyes were fixed on his father, and all his father could do was to whisper, "Sit still, Teddy. You mustn\'t move. Teddy, keep still." Then Rikki-tikki came up and cried, "Turn round, Nagaina. Turn and fight!" "All in good time," said she, without moving her eyes. "I will settle my account with you presently. Look at your friends, Rikki-tikki. They are still and white. They are afraid. They dare not move, and if you come a step nearer I strike." "Look at your eggs," said Rikki-tikki, "in the melon bed near the wall. Go and look, Nagaina!" The big snake turned half around, and saw the egg on the veranda. "Ah-h! Give it to me," she said. Rikki-tikki put his paws one on each side of the egg, and his eyes were blood-red. "What price for a snake\'s egg? For a young cobra? For a young king cobra? For the last--the very last of the brood? The ants are eating all the others down by the melon bed." Nagaina spun clear round, forgetting everything for the sake of the one egg.', "Rikki-tikki saw Teddy's father shoot out a big hand, catch Teddy by the shoulder, and drag him across the little table with the tea-cups, safe and out of reach of Nagaina.", '"Tricked! Tricked! Tricked! Rikk-tck-tck!" chuckled Rikki-tikki. "The boy is safe, and it was I--I--I that caught Nag by the hood last night in the bathroom." Then he began to jump up and down, all four feet together, his head close to the floor. "He threw me to and fro, but he could not shake me off. He was dead before the big man blew him in two. I did it! Rikki-tikki-tck-tck! Come then, Nagaina. Come and fight with me. You shall not be a widow long." Nagaina saw that she had lost her chance of killing Teddy, and the egg lay between Rikki-tikki\'s paws. "Give me the egg, Rikki-tikki. Give me the last of my eggs, and I will go away and never come back," she said, lowering her hood. "Yes, you will go away, and you will never come back. For you will go to the rubbish heap with Nag. Fight, widow! The big man has gone for his gun! Fight!" Rikki-tikki was bounding all round Nagaina, keeping just out of reach of her stroke, his little eyes like hot coals. Nagaina gathered herself together and flung out at him. Rikki-tikki jumped up and backward. Again and again and again she struck, and each time her head came with a whack on the matting of the veranda and she gathered herself together like a watch spring. Then Rikki-tikki danced in a circle to get behind her, and Nagaina spun round to keep her head to his head, so that the rustle of her tail on the matting sounded like dry leaves blown along by the wind. He had forgotten the egg. It still lay on the veranda, and Nagaina came nearer and nearer to it, till at last, while Rikki-tikki was drawing breath, she caught it in her mouth, turned to the veranda steps, and flew like an arrow down the path, with Rikki-tikki behind her. When the cobra runs for her life, she goes like a whip-lash flicked across a horse\'s neck. Rikki-tikki knew that he must catch her, or all the trouble would begin again. She headed straight for the long grass by the thorn-bush, and as he was running Rikki-tikki heard Darzee still singing his foolish little song of triumph. But Darzee\'s wife was wiser. She flew off her nest as Nagaina came along, and flapped her wings about Nagaina\'s head. If Darzee had helped they might have turned her, but Nagaina only lowered her hood and went on. Still, the instant\'s delay brought Rikki-tikki up to her, and as she plunged into the rat-hole where she and Nag used to live, his little white teeth were clenched on her tail, and he went down with her--and very few mongooses, however wise and old they may be, care to follow a cobra into its hole. It was dark in the hole; and Rikki-tikki never knew when it might open out and give Nagaina room to turn and strike at him. He held on savagely, and stuck out his feet to act as brakes on the dark slope of the hot, moist earth. Then the grass by the mouth of the hole stopped waving, and Darzee said, "It is all over with Rikki-tikki! We must sing his death song. Valiant Rikki-tikki is dead! For Nagaina will surely kill him underground." So he sang a very mournful song that he made up on the spur of the minute, and just as he got to the most touching part, the grass quivered again, and Rikki-tikki, covered with dirt, dragged himself out of the hole leg by leg, licking his whiskers. Darzee stopped with a little shout. Rikki-tikki shook some of the dust out of his fur and sneezed. "It is all over," he said. "The widow will never come out again." And the red ants that live between the grass stems heard him, and began to troop down one after another to see if he had spoken the truth. Rikki-tikki curled himself up in the grass and slept where he was--slept and slept till it was late in the afternoon, for he had done a hard day\'s work. "Now," he said, when he awoke, "I will go back to the house. Tell the Coppersmith, Darzee, and he will tell the garden that Nagaina is dead." The Coppersmith is a bird who makes a noise exactly like the beating of a little hammer on a copper pot; and the reason he is always making it is because he is the town crier to every Indian garden, and tells all the news to everybody who cares to listen. As Rikki-tikki went up the path, he heard his "attention" notes like a tiny dinner gong, and then the steady "Ding-dong-tock! Nag is dead--dong! Nagaina is dead! Ding-dong-tock!" That set all the birds in the garden singing, and the frogs croaking, for Nag and Nagaina used to eat frogs as well as little birds. When Rikki got to the house, Teddy and Teddy\'s mother (she looked very white still, for she had been fainting) and Teddy\'s father came out and almost cried over him; and that night he ate all that was given him till he could eat no more, and went to bed on Teddy\'s shoulder, where Teddy\'s mother saw him when she came to look late at night. "He saved our lives and Teddy\'s life," she said to her husband. "Just think, he saved all our lives." Rikki-tikki woke up with a jump, for the mongooses are light sleepers. "Oh, it\'s you," said he. "What are you bothering for? All the cobras are dead. And if they weren\'t, I\'m here." Rikki-tikki had a right to be proud of himself. But he did not grow too proud, and he kept that garden as a mongoose should keep it, with tooth and jump and spring and bite, till never a cobra dared show its head inside the walls.', "And that's the Story of Rikki tikki Tavi. And Bertie is reminding me that there's a poem that goes with the story.", "I'll be back soon with another Story. Until then, from me, Natasha Bye bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn118.txt b/text/sn118.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1bc8c3deecb78579e2689145117a0a046aff4ed1 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn118.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This story from Norway is short but exciting – and ideal for small children (although it’s abit scary!). Three billy goats, each with the same name (Gruff), are on the way up the hillside to eat grass and get fat. On the way they have to cross a bridge where a hungry troll lies in wait in the ravine. Read by Natasha. Duration Five Minutes. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. The Billy Goats Gruff - Hello, This is Natasha, and I’m dropping by to tell you a story from Norway about three Billy Goats, and great big fierce Troll who wanted to gobble them up. Prince Bertie’s friend Tim the Tadpole especially requested this story, because it’s small but very interesting, just like he is – so it will only take me a minute or two to tell it two you. Once upon a time there were three billy goats, who were to go up to the hillside to eat grass and make themselves fat. The name of each one of them was “Gruff.” On the way up was a bridge over a cascading stream they had to cross; and under the bridge lived a great ugly troll, with eyes as big as saucers, and a nose as long as a poker. So first of all came the youngest Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge. “Trip, trap! Trip, trap! Trip trap!”went the bridge as he trotted across. “Who’s that tripping over my bridge?” roared the troll. “Oh, it is only I, the tiniest Billy Goat Gruff, and I’m going up to the hillside to make myself fat,” said the billy goat, with such a small voice. “Now, I’m coming to gobble you up,” said the troll. “Oh, no! pray don’t take me. I’m too little, that I am,” said the billy goat. “Wait a bit till the second Billy Goat Gruff comes. He’s much bigger.” “Well, be off with you,” said the troll. A little while after came the second Billy Goat Gruff to cross the bridge. “Trip trap! Trip trap! Trip trap!” went the bridge. “Who’s that tripping over my bridge?” roared the troll. “Oh, it’s the second Billy Goat Gruff, and I’m going up to the hillside to make myself fat,” said the billy goat, who hadn’t such a small voice. “Now I’m coming to gobble you up,” said the troll. “Oh, no! Don’t take me. Wait a little till the big Billy Goat Gruff comes. He’s much bigger.” “Very well! Be off with you,” said the troll. But just then up came the big Billy Goat Gruff. “Trip trap! Trip trap! Trip trap!” went the bridge, for the billy goat was so heavy that the bridge creaked and groaned under him. “Who’s that tramping over my bridge?” roared the troll. “It’s I!The big Billy Goat Gruff,” said the billy goat, who had an ugly hoarse voice of his own. “Now I’m coming to gobble you up,” roared the troll. Well, come along! I’ve got two spears, and I’ll poke your eyeballs out at your ears. I’ve got besides two curling-stones, and I’ll crush you to bits, body and bones. That was what the big billy goat said. And then he flew at the troll, and poked his eyes out with his horns, and crushed him to bits, body and bones, and tossed him out into the ravine and after that he went up to the hillside. There the billy goats got so fat they were scarcely able to walk home again. And if the fat hasn’t fallen off them, why, they’re still fat; and so, Snip Snap Snout.. This Tale is out! Wow Tim says that was exciting – and now he wants to hear it all over again before he goes to bed. Well, Tim, maybe we’ll just have to wait for another night to hear that one. In the meantime, if you want to hear more stories, you can find loads and loads of them over at Storynory.com. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn119.txt b/text/sn119.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..bdbbd66a8413fd35a2a9e430880bec9e0f5a73a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn119.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio of the tiger story The Brahman struggles to find any one - or any thing - that will agree that the tiger is wrong. Everyone he asks seems to think that ingratitude is the way of the world and he should accept his fate. Then along comes a jackal who appears to be very dim... Perhaps he can save the Brahman from the tiger. The story was collected in the 19th century by Joseph Jacobs who was born in Australia and came to England. One of the interesting things about it is the way that the road a tree speak, on the same level as the animals and the holy man. Read by Natasha. Duration 9.21 Once upon a time, a tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to get out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when he failed. By chance a poor Brahman came by. “Let me out of this cage, oh holy one!” cried the tiger. “Nay, my friend,” replied the Brahman mildly, “you would probably eat me if I did.” “Not at all!” swore the tiger with many oaths; “on the contrary, I should be for ever grateful, and serve you as a slave!” Now when the tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the good Brahman’s heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of the cage. Out popped the tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried, “What a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after being cooped up so long I am just terribly hungry!” In vain the Brahman pleaded for his life; at last the Tiger agreed that if the Brahman could ask three things to judge whether or not the Tiger was treating him unfairly. If one of them would say that he should keep his life, then the Tiger would not eat him, but would let him go. So the Brahman first asked a pipal tree what it thought of the matter, but the pipal tree replied coldly, “What have you to complain about? Don’t I give shade and shelter to every one who passes by, and don’t they return my kindness by tearing down my branches to feed their cattle? Don’t whimper–be a man!” Then the Brahman, sad at heart, went further afield till he saw a buffalo turning a well-wheel; but he got no better result, for it answered, “You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! When I gave milk , the people fed me on cotton-seed and oil-cake, but now I am dry they tie me here, and give me their rubbish for food!” The Brahman, still more sad, asked the road to give him its opinion. “My dear sir,” said the road, “how foolish you are to expect anything else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great and small, trample on me as they go past.” At this the Brahman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a jackal, who called out, “Why, what’s the matter, Mr. Brahman? You look as miserable as a fish out of water!” The Brahman told him all that had happened. “How very confusing!” said the jackal, when the recital was ended; “would you mind telling me over again, for everything has got so mixed up?” The Brahman told it all over again, but the jackal shook his head in a distracted sort of way, and still could not understand. “It’s very odd,” said he, sadly, “but it all seems to go in at one ear and out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened, and then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment.” So they returned to the cage, by which the tiger was waiting for the Brahman, and sharpening his teeth and claws. “You’ve been away a long time!” growled the savage beast, “but now let us begin our dinner.” “Our dinner!” thought the wretched Brahman, as his knees knocked together with fright; “what a remarkably delicate way of putting it!” “Give me five minutes, my lord!” he pleaded, “in order that I may explain matters to the jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits.” The tiger consented, and the Brahman began the whole story over again, not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible. “Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!” cried the jackal, wringing its paws. “Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and the tiger came walking by–” “Pooh!” interrupted the tiger, “what a fool you are! I was in the cage.” “Of course!” cried the jackal, pretending to tremble with fright; “yes! I was in the cage–no I wasn’t–dear! dear! where are my wits? Let me see–the tiger was in the Brahman, and the cage came walking by–no, that’s not it, either! Well, don’t mind me, but begin your dinner, for I shall never understand!” “Yes, you shall!” returned the tiger, in a rage at the jackal’s stupidity; “I’ll make you understand! Look here–I am the tiger–” “Yes, my lord!” “And that is the Brahman–” “Yes, my lord!” “And that is the cage–” “Yes, my lord!” “And I was in the cage–do you understand?” “Yes–no–Please, my lord–” “Well?” “Please, my lord!–how did you get in?” “How!–why in the usual way, of course!” “Oh, dear me!–my head is beginning to whirl again! Please don’t be angry, my lord, but what is the usual way?” At this the tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried, "This way! Now do you understand how it was?” “Perfectly!” grinned the jackal, as he dexterously shut the door, “and if you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they were!” And that’s the story of how the Jackal helped the Brahman escape from the Tiger. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn12.txt b/text/sn12.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d2531bcbe08ef2949dac4fce2198fddd03df38ae --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn12.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +In this story, Katie and her best friend Isis go on a Pony Trek. If you like horses, you’ll definitely love this story, and even if you aren’t quite such a horsey person, you will learn about a scary modern legend that has grown up in the western part of England called Cornwall. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 19 Minutes. Pictures by CaiJia Eng Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. It was the first day of term in the New Year. Isis was standing in the playground talking to Judith and Andy about their holidays. All three of them had lovely suntans, Judith and Andy from their skiing trips, and Isis from her stay on a Caribbean island. When Katie joined them, she had her usual pale white skin, with a touch of red on her nose from the cold winter air. “Oh hi Katie, what did you do for Christmas?” asked Isis. “Oh Mum and I went to Grandma’s as usual,” replied Katie. That evening, as Katie’s mum ladled out her home-made pumpkin soup for dinner, Katie asked: “Why can’t we be rich like Isis and her mum? I mean, we’re witches, so we could easily magic up some money and then we could go on lovely holidays and I could have a pony.” “Oh Katie,” replied her mother. “We can’t do that. Only the Government is allowed to make money. Using magic to do it is called alchemy, and it’s against the law.” “Oh,” said Katie. “That’s a pity. Isis is always talking about her pony, and I would really like to have one too.” “Well maybe she will let you ride hers,” said her mother softly. “Ponies aren’t just expensive, they are a lot of work, and I’m sure that Isis could do with some help looking after hers.” On Friday morning, Isis said to Katie, “Why don’t you come down to the pony farm with me tomorrow? You can have a ride on Bessie if you like.” And Katie was thrilled. “What a clever mother I have,” she thought. “I’m sure she did a little magic spell to make that happen.” But in fact, her mother had just dropped a heavy hint to Isis’s mum at the school gate, along the lines of “Katie’s always telling me how Isis adores her pony. I think it’s a stage that every girl goes through, but we really can’t afford one.” On Saturday, as they drove to the Pony Farm, Katie’s mum said: “Remember, don’t use any magic. We don’t want Isis’s mum seeing you doing any spells.” “Promise Mum,” said Katie who was very excited just to be going riding for the first time. When they arrived, Isis was already tightening the saddle on Bessie and expertly adjusting the stirrups. She knew all about how the reins and the tackle fitted. Of course, she herself wore all the smartest riding clothes, including jodhpurs, a trim tweed jacket, and buckled shoes. Katie just had her jeans and trainers. She had to borrow a hard hat from the stable. Isis lifted her foot into the stirrup, and swung her other leg over the pony. She looked a perfect picture sitting on top of the dapple-coated Bessie, and Katie could not help feeling a pang of envy. Isis gave Bessie a little kick, and rode her over to the ring, where she cantered and jumped over some small fences. When it was Katie’s turn to have a go, Isis said: “Now remember, the most important thing is to let Bessie know that you are the boss. Horses can smell fear, so be firm.” Katie found it a little bit of a struggle to climb up onto the saddle, but Bessie stood very still for her. Isis said: “Don’t slouch. Hold the reins low, you’re not a cowboy. Give her a gentle kick.” Katie kicked, but Bessie didn’t move. “She knows you’re a beginner,” sighed Isis. “Yes,” thought Katie. “But I know she will like me. We witches have an affinity with animals.” And she concentrated very hard before saying, “Click cluck” with the back of her mouth. Bessie started to walk. After fifteen minutes, and a little coaching from Isis, Katie was already trotting. Isis’s mum said to Katie: “She’s a natural.” And at the end of the morning, Katie was really excited and thrilled just to have been on a horse. After that, Isis often invited Katie to ride Bessie. And Katie helped look after her too. When nobody was looking, she used just a little magic to clean up the stable, which gave Isis and her more time to brush down Bessie’s coat and to gossip about school. At half term, Isis and her mum rented a cottage in Cornwall. There was a stable nearby, and they planned to go riding every day. Isis asked if they could bring Katie too, and her mum gladly agreed, because she knew it would be more fun for her daughter to have a friend with her. As Katie was packing, her mum said: “Remember Katie, no magic on this holiday.” And Katie promised, “Yes mum. No magic.” She kissed Solomon goodbye and said: “Be a good kittie while I’m away. Leave the mice alone. They have a right to live too you know.” And Solomon rubbed his face against Katie’s, purred, and thought, “No chance. I’ll get those pesky mice as soon as you’re gone.” It was a long drive down to Cornwall, but Isis’s car was so comfortable that it was no hardship. When they were off the motorway, they drove along long country lanes with high hedges on either side. They were heading upwards, towards the moors. The satnav said: “Take the next left” and they turned into a little farm. Their cottage was in fact a newly converted barn. It was extremely comfortable inside, with warm central heating, a huge flat panel TV, and a lovely pink bathroom. Through the windows they could see the old stone farm house and the stables. The next morning, Katie and Isis went to look at the ponies. They met a stable boy who was leading out a sleek black horse on long elegant legs. “He’s a bit of an aristocrat of a horse,” said Katie admiringly. And the boy said: (West Country Accent) “He took a right fright yesterday afternoon and threw the boss.” “What spooked him?” asked Isis? “What else?” asked the boy, “But the Beast.” “The beast? You’re kidding us,” said Isis. But Katie said: “I suppose he means the Beast of Bodmin Moor.” “That be the one,” said the boy. “He’s like a big wild cat,” said Katie, “Some people think he’s a puma or a panther that escaped from the zoo.” “Your friend’s got the low down,” said the boy. “Perhaps you’ll get a look at him yourself, if you’re very unlucky…” Isis turned her nose up at him. She did not want to admit that he had got her rather spooked herself. “But most people think it’s just a rumour ,and the Beast doesn’t exist,” whispered Katie when he was out of earshot. “So he was probably just making it up to frighten us any way.” They went inside the stable and found a girl who told them that the lad was always making up stories to scare the visitors. “He should be sacked,” she said. “Only, he’s the boss’s nephew. And it’s not true. Nobody was thrown off yesterday, especially not the boss, who isn’t even here this week.” She found them two ponies, one called Yorkie who was black, and another called Steptoe who was brown with a shaggy mane and looked a little bit like a miniature carthorse. As Isis was the more experienced rider of the two girls, she took Yorkie who was the most frisky of the two ponies. Isis’s mum would have the tall black horse. That afternoon, they set out on their first trek. They rode up to a lake where their ponies waded in for a drink. Over the next few days they explored the local paths and trails. It was not far from the farm before they were away from the hedges and long grass and up on more stony desolate country. They rode to an old deserted prison, which was rather spooky. Katie managed a few canters, and Isis’s pony jumped over a ditch. When they got back to the farm, they played hide and seek in the hay loft and watched DVDs on TV. Isis’s mum drove into the village to fetch takeaway dinners, and Katie tried Chinese food and learned how to use chop sticks. All in all it was a perfect holiday. On Friday, they took a packed lunch and rode out on an extra long trek. It was their aim to reach some ancient stones left on the moors by Druids centuries ago. The sun was shining brightly for the time of the year, and it was a crisp bright day. A bold fox sat on a stone wall and watched them approach, before slowly jumping down and trotting off to the woods. Brightly coloured pheasants pecked the grass in the fields. A scarecrow provided a perch for the beady-eyed birds. Katie’s pony plodded on in his usual docile way, until, quite out of character, he shied back and gave Katie a jolt. “Whoa!” she said, what’s got into you?” And then she saw a snake – probably an adder – slithering through the grassy ditch and disappearing into some long grass. “That’s ok,” she said, “he’s gone.” Further up the track ,they found an old deserted farm house. They rode into the walls of its tumbled-down garden, and were thinking of stopping for lunch when all of a sudden a huge black cat jumped over the wall – only this was no kitty-cat like Solomon – this was the size of a large dog, only much thinner and sleeker. He was black, with bright yellow eyes, yellow teeth, and a red tongue. He was facing Isis who had her back to the farmhouse… her black pony started to rear and stomp all over the place… her mum screamed as Isis was flung clear off its back – one of her feet was caught in the stirrup – and oh it looked like it twisted nastily as she fell to the ground – the pony darted round the big cat and ran into the next field, but Isis was left on the ground. Her mum was in near hysterics. She was crying. The cat growled and fixed her with his stare. He looked like he was about to pounce. “Katie, do some magic!” screamed Isis . And Katie, who was already thinking of a spell, shouted “Catnip!” And then she said: “Hey Cat – Don’t hurt my friend!”… and the cat turned around and said: “I don’t mean to!” “Then why did you scare her pony like that?” asked Katie, with difficulty, because her own pony was fritting around, fairly unsettled, even at a distance. Isis’s mum had stopped screaming and was watching in a amazement as Katie carried on this conversation with the creature… “Well,” said the cat, “I wouldn’t have done if I knew you could talk… Listen, I’m hungry.I don’t suppose you have anything to eat with you do you?” “Just a cheese sandwich,” said Katie, starting to take off her back back. “No thanks,” said the cat. “Sorry, I’m a vegetarian” said Katie. “I’m sure you would get better food if you went back to the zoo.” The cat, who was now sitting in front of Katie’s horse, licking his paw, looked up and said: “I don’t come from the zoo. I had an owner who kept me secretly in his back garden. I was in a cage, and he fed me on tins of yucky cat food, so I ran away when he forgot to lock the door. I’ve lived up here for the past few years. I catch rabbits and pheasants, but I don’t like the cold or the rain. Whenever I try to ask people for help, they get scared and run away.” “You’re lucky a farmer hasn’t shot you,” said Katie. “That will happen one day you know. Hey, why don’t you let us take you to the zoo? I’m sure they will look after you.” And since Katie seemed like such a nice girl, and so trustworthy, the cat agreed to go back to the farm with them. Isis’s leg really hurt, and it was with much difficulty that her mum helped her back onto her pony, but it was either that or call the air ambulance, and Isis didn’t fancy flying in a helicopter which would be really noisy and uncomfortable. The Beast of Bodmin followed them back to the farm,trotting behind the horses, and when they saw the stable boy Katie called out: “Hey have you got any legs of lamb in the freezer. We’ve got a hungry Beast here.” “Wow!” said the boy, and legged it for the farm house as fast as he could. The Beast stayed with Katie while Isis went to the hospital with her mum. They both promised not to breathe a word to anybody about the magic that they had witnessed, not even to Katie’s mum. Katie gave him a pint of milk, a pot of cream, and some leftovers of duck in plum sauce. “I’m sure they will have steak in the zoo,” she promised. And the Beast of Bodmin purred contentedly, because although he was hungry, he was at least warm by the radiator and looking forward to his new life in the enclosure, where food would be brought to him, and visitors would admire him. And that was the story of Katie and the Pony who was spooked. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn120.txt b/text/sn120.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..271fd5f97c862ba50c027ef98a56b1fa3df52cb8 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn120.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio Read by Natasha. Duration 3.15 \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn121.txt b/text/sn121.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..133277679ada8c01f31919d04aebe9e0697fb7c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn121.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This story about a fox and a wolf, might be better called "The vixen and the wolf" because the fox is very feminine, while the wolf is definitely a he-wolf. Both are very hungry, and the wolf is set on eating the fox. This story by Antonio de Trueba (1821-1889) is set in his native Basque country in Northern Spain. The English translation is from the Orange Fairy Book of Andrew Lang. Read by Natasha. Duration 18.27. \'I positively must get a good meal before I go back to my den,\' he said to himself; \'it is nearly a week since I have tasted anything but scraps, though perhaps no one would think it to look at my figure! Of course there are plenty of rabbits and hares in the mountains; but indeed one needs to be a greyhound to catch them, and I am not so young as I was! If I could only dine off that fox I saw a fortnight ago, curled up into a delicious hairy ball, I should ask nothing better; I would have eaten her then, but unluckily her husband was lying beside her, and one knows that foxes, great and small, run like the wind. Really it seems as if there was not a living creature left for me to prey upon but a wolf, and, as the proverb says: "One wolf does not bite another." However, let us see what this village can produce. I am as hungry as a schoolmaster.\'', "'The whole of this day I have listened to those village hens clucking till I could bear it no longer,' murmured she as she bounded along, hardly seeming to touch the ground. 'When you are fond of fowls and eggs it is the sweetest of all music. As sure as there is a sun in heaven I will have some of them this night, for I have grown so thin that my very bones rattle, and my poor babies are crying for food.' And as she spoke she reached a little plot of grass, where the two roads joined, and flung herself under a tree to take a little rest, and to settle her plans. At this moment the wolf came up.", "'Is that you, neighbour? What a strange place to meet in! I hope you are quite well?'", '\'He is. Still, you are good enough for me; for "to the hungry no bread is hard."\'', "'Oh, you are always joking! I'm sure you are not half as hungry as I!'", "'What are you doing?' exclaimed the fox, stepping backwards.", "'What am I doing? What I am going to do is to make my supper off you, in less time than a cock takes to crow.'", "'I don't want to joke, but to eat!'", "'In this world the cleverest people are always the hungriest,' replied the wolf.", "'Ah! how true that is; but--'", '\'I can\'t stop to listen to your "buts" and "yets,"\' broke in the wolf rudely; \'let us get to the point, and the point is that I want to eat you and not talk to you.\'', "'Have you no pity for a poor mother?' asked the fox, putting her tail to her eyes, but peeping slily out of them all the same.", "'I am dying of hunger,' answered the wolf, doggedly; 'and you know,' he added with a grin, 'that charity begins at home.'", "'Quite so,' replied the fox; 'it would be unreasonable of me to object to your satisfying your appetite at my expense. But if the fox resigns herself to the sacrifice, the mother offers you one last request.'", "'Then be quick and don't waste my time, for I can't wait much longer. What is it you want?'", "'But the cheeses may be all finished by now?'", 'All was silent in the village, and not a light was to be seen but that of the moon, which shone bright and clear in the sky. The wolf and the fox crept softly along, when suddenly they stopped and looked at each other; a savoury smell of frying bacon reached their noses, and reached the noses of the sleeping dogs, who began to bark greedily.', "'Is it safe to go on, think you?' asked the wolf in a whisper. And the fox shook her head.", "'Not while the dogs are barking,' said she; 'someone might come out to see if anything was the matter.' And she signed to the wolf to curl himself up in the shadow beside her.", "'I am lighter than he is,' thought the fox to herself, 'and perhaps if I make haste I can get a start, and jump over the wall on the other side before he manages to spring over this one.' And she quickened her pace. But if the wolf could not run he could jump, and with one bound he was beside his companion.", "'What were you going to do, comrade?'", "'Oh, nothing,' replied the fox, much vexed at the failure of her plan.", "'And now, unbeliever, what have you to say?' and the fox laughed gently.", "'That you are a woman--I mean a fox--of your word,' replied the wolf.", "'Well, then, go down in that bucket and eat your fill,' said the fox.", "'And be sure you don't eat all the cheese, or it will be the worse for you,' continued the wolf. But the fox looked up at him with tears in her eyes.", "'Then be quick and bring it up,' commanded the wolf.", "'How can I, when it weighs more than I do?' asked the fox.", "'If it is so heavy bring it in two bits, of course,' said he.", "'But I have no knife,' answered the fox. 'You will have to come down yourself, and we will carry it up between us.'", "'And how am I to come down?' inquired the wolf.", "'The cheese?' answered the fox; 'why I am taking it home to my babies, who are too young to get food for themselves.'", '[From Cuentos Populares, por Antonio de Trueba.] \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn122.txt b/text/sn122.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ade3b57d10f92be789ca1f9d6c22aecf3aa3928f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn122.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +We celebrate the Year of the Tiger with a legend of how the tiger got his stripes. Anyone born in the year of the tiger will be lucky and brave (according to horoscopes). Read by Natasha. Version by Bertie. Duration: 7.01. A long time ago, when animals still had the power of speech, a white, stripeless tiger, crept to the edge of the jungle and looked out at the paddy fields where the rice grew. He saw a man sitting under a banana tree eating his lunch. Not far away stood a buffalo who was also taking a rest from his work ploughing the fields. The great beast swished his tail to swipe away the flies. The tiger crept forward on his belly, using his powerful arms to pull himself through the grass, and when he was just behind the buffalo he whispered, “Do not be afraid. I do not come to satisfy my hunger, but to seek your advice. Do tell me the answer to my question - for I am so curious to know. I have been observing the puny little man who is your master. He has no strength, no sharp sense of smell. His hands are not strong and his teeth are not sharp, yet he rules you and makes you work for him. You, on the other hand, are a magnificent beast of great and wonderful strength. You are twenty times his weight and size, and I know to my cost that you can put up a fair fight with the best of the beasts of the jungle. I have heard that the source of man’s power is something called wisdom. So tell me, oh buffalo, what is wisdom? Where does the man get it from?” The buffalo munched slowly on his grass for a while before answering, “Beats me, I’ve no idea. Why don’t you ask him?” The tiger saw that he would not get a sensible answer from the buffalo, and so he sprang over the to the man in one great bound, and as he stood before the trembling farmer he said, “Have no fear little man, for I have not come to satisfy my hunger. I am here in search of wisdom. Do answer my question, please, for it perplexes me. What this thing that men call wisdom? What does it look like? Where does it come from? Will you not share some of it with me?” The man wiped the sweat of fear from his forehead and said as calmly as he could, “Wisdom is very precious. Must I really give some of it to you?” “The choice is yours,” said the Tiger, “But do you hear that sound? It is my stomach rumbling. I have not slept or eaten for three days, so perplexed have I been by this question, but now I am starting to feel like I could do with a bite to eat. ” And the man could indeed hear a low rumbling sound. He replied to the tiger, “Well of course I will gladly share my wisdom with you. But I’m afraid I have left it at home today. I must go and fetch it for you. If you come back with me, I am afraid the villagers will take fright. Will you wait here a while?” The tiger walked around the man menacingly before giving his reply, “I will wait, but be sure to come back, or I will visit you in your field again tomorrow, and next time I might be more hungry than inquisitive.” The man started to walk out of the field, but he had taken only a few steps when he turned back and said, “Please forgive me. I am troubled by the thought of leaving a hungry tiger here with my animals. Will you let me tie you to this tree while I am away fetching the wisdom? That way my fears will be at rest.” The tiger was afraid that the man would change his mind about sharing his wisdom. He thought of the great power that only a little wisdom would give him — how with his strength, and with just a little of man’s wisdom, he would rule every creature that walked, slithered, swam or flew across the world. He wanted this prize so much that he agreed to let the man coil a rope around his body and his legs, and tie him to the trunk of the banana tree. A little later, the man returned to the field with his three sons. Each carried armfuls of dry straw. “Here, I have kept my side of the bargain. I have brought you wisdom” said the man, and he and his sons laid the straw on the ground beneath the tiger. Then the man set alight to it. Bright orange flames leapt up and burned the tiger. He roared with pain until at last the fire seared through the ropes, and he sprang to freedom and bounded for the river where he soothed his burnt fur in the cooling waters. In time the wounds of the tiger healed, but forever more his body bore orange stripes where the flames and burned him and black ones where the ropes had bound him. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn123.txt b/text/sn123.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..cadad8020cc4701d087401db77f6cad03805b106 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn123.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha for Storynory CHAPTER I. Down the Rabbit-Hole Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice ‘without pictures or conversations?’ So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.', "There was nothing so VERY remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so VERY much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, 'Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually TOOK A WATCH OUT OF ITS WAISTCOAT-POCKET, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.", 'In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again. The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.', "Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled 'ORANGE MARMALADE', but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.", "'Well!' thought Alice to herself, 'after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!' (Which was very likely true.)", "Down, down, down. Would the fall NEVER come to an end! 'I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time?' she said aloud. 'I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think--' (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a VERY good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) '--yes, that's about the right distance--but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I've got to?' (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.)", "Presently she began again. 'I wonder if I shall fall right THROUGH the earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think--' (she was rather glad there WAS no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the right word) '--but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma'am, is this New Zealand or Australia?' (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke--fancy CURTSEYING as you're falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) 'And what an ignorant little girl she'll think me for asking! No, it'll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.'", "Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. 'Dinah'll miss me very much to-night, I should think!' (Dinah was the cat.) 'I hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?' And here Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, 'Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?' and sometimes, 'Do bats eat cats?' for, you see, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, 'Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?' when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.", "Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, 'Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!' She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof.", 'There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.', "Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice's first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!", "Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head through the doorway; 'and even if my head would go through,' thought poor Alice, 'it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only know how to begin.' For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.", "There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it, ('which certainly was not here before,' said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words 'DRINK ME' beautifully printed on it in large letters.", 'It was all very well to say \'Drink me,\' but the wise little Alice was not going to do THAT in a hurry. \'No, I\'ll look first,\' she said, \'and see whether it\'s marked "poison" or not\'; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they WOULD not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger VERY deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked \'poison,\' it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.', "However, this bottle was NOT marked 'poison,' so Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off.", ' * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *', "'What a curious feeling!' said Alice; 'I must be shutting up like a telescope.'", "And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; 'for it might end, you know,' said Alice to herself, 'in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?' And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.", 'After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.', "'Come, there's no use in crying like that!' said Alice to herself, rather sharply; 'I advise you to leave off this minute!' She generally gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. 'But it's no use now,' thought poor Alice, 'to pretend to be two people! Why, there's hardly enough of me left to make ONE respectable person!'", "Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words 'EAT ME' were beautifully marked in currants. 'Well, I'll eat it,' said Alice, 'and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I'll get into the garden, and I don't care which happens!'", "She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, 'Which way? Which way?', holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.", 'So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn124.txt b/text/sn124.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..84c312f6aeab8332949b2938a359be1eae20c118 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn124.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download Alice Chapter 3 Read by Natasha, of course. Duration 16 minutes. They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank--the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable.', "The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, `I am older than you, and must know better'; and this Alice would not allow without knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its age, there was no more to be said.", "At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, called out, `Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I'll soon make you dry enough!' They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon.", '`Ahem!\' said the Mouse with an important air, `are you all ready? This is the driest thing I know. Silence all round, if you please! "William the Conqueror, whose cause was favoured by the pope, was soon submitted to by the English, who wanted leaders, and had been of late much accustomed to usurpation and conquest. Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria--"\'', "`Ugh!' said the Lory, with a shiver.", "`I beg your pardon!' said the Mouse, frowning, but very politely: `Did you speak?'", "`Not I!' said the Lory hastily.", '`I thought you did,\' said the Mouse. `--I proceed. "Edwin and Morcar, the earls of Mercia and Northumbria, declared for him: and even Stigand, the patriotic archbishop of Canterbury, found it advisable--"\'', "`Found what?' said the Duck.", '`Found it,\' the Mouse replied rather crossly: `of course you know what "it" means.\' `I know what "it" means well enough, when I find a thing,\' said the Duck: `it\'s generally a frog or a worm. The question is, what did the archbishop find?\' The Mouse did not notice this question, but hurriedly went on, `"--found it advisable to go with Edgar Atheling to meet William and offer him the crown. William\'s conduct at first was moderate. But the insolence of his Normans--" How are you getting on now, my dear?\' it continued, turning to Alice as it spoke.', "`As wet as ever,' said Alice in a melancholy tone: `it doesn't seem to dry me at all.'", "`In that case,' said the Dodo solemnly, rising to its feet, `I move that the meeting adjourn, for the immediate adoption of more energetic remedies--'", "`Speak English!' said the Eaglet. `I don't know the meaning of half those long words, and, what's more, I don't believe you do either!' And the Eaglet bent down its head to hide a smile: some of the other birds tittered audibly.", "`What I was going to say,' said the Dodo in an offended tone, `was, that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.'", "`What is a Caucus-race?' said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and no one else seemed inclined to say anything.", "`Why,' said the Dodo, `the best way to explain it is to do it.' (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.)", "First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (`the exact shape doesn't matter,' it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no `One, two, three, and away,' but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out `The race is over!' and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, `But who has won?'", "This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, `Everybody has won, and all must have prizes.'", "`But who is to give the prizes?' quite a chorus of voices asked.", "`Why, she, of course,' said the Dodo, pointing to Alice with one finger; and the whole party at once crowded round her, calling out in a confused way, `Prizes! Prizes!'", 'Alice had no idea what to do, and in despair she put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out a box of comfits, (luckily the salt water had not got into it), and handed them round as prizes. There was exactly one a-piece all round.', "`But she must have a prize herself, you know,' said the Mouse.", "`Of course,' the Dodo replied very gravely. `What else have you got in your pocket?' he went on, turning to Alice.", "`Only a thimble,' said Alice sadly.", "`Hand it over here,' said the Dodo.", "Then they all crowded round her once more, while the Dodo solemnly presented the thimble, saying `We beg your acceptance of this elegant thimble'; and, when it had finished this short speech, they all cheered.", 'Dodo presenting thimble Alice thought the whole thing very absurd, but they all looked so grave that she did not dare to laugh; and, as she could not think of anything to say, she simply bowed, and took the thimble, looking as solemn as she could. The next thing was to eat the comfits: this caused some noise and confusion, as the large birds complained that they could not taste theirs, and the small ones choked and had to be patted on the back. However, it was over at last, and they sat down again in a ring, and begged the Mouse to tell them something more.', "`You promised to tell me your history, you know,' said Alice, `and why it is you hate--C and D,' she added in a whisper, half afraid that it would be offended again.", "`Mine is a long and a sad tale!' said the Mouse, turning to Alice, and sighing.", "`It is a long tail, certainly,' said Alice, looking down with wonder at the Mouse's tail; `but why do you call it sad?' And she kept on puzzling about it while the Mouse was speaking, so that her idea of the tale was something like this:--", "`You are not attending!' said the Mouse to Alice severely. `What are you thinking of?'", 'Mouse telling story to birds and Alice', "`I beg your pardon,' said Alice very humbly: `you had got to the fifth bend, I think?'", "`I had not!' cried the Mouse, sharply and very angrily.", "`A knot!' said Alice, always ready to make herself useful, and looking anxiously about her. `Oh, do let me help to undo it!'", "`I shall do nothing of the sort,' said the Mouse, getting up and walking away. `You insult me by talking such nonsense!'", "`I didn't mean it!' pleaded poor Alice. `But you're so easily offended, you know!'", 'The Mouse only growled in reply.', "`Please come back and finish your story!' Alice called after it; and the others all joined in chorus, `Yes, please do!' but the Mouse only shook its head impatiently, and walked a little quicker.", "`What a pity it wouldn't stay!' sighed the Lory, as soon as it was quite out of sight; and an old Crab took the opportunity of saying to her daughter `Ah, my dear! Let this be a lesson to you never to lose your temper!' `Hold your tongue, Ma!' said the young Crab, a little snappishly. `You're enough to try the patience of an oyster!'", "`I wish I had our Dinah here, I know I do!' said Alice aloud, addressing nobody in particular. `She'd soon fetch it back!'", "`And who is Dinah, if I might venture to ask the question?' said the Lory.", "Alice replied eagerly, for she was always ready to talk about her pet: `Dinah's our cat. And she's such a capital one for catching mice you can't think! And oh, I wish you could see her after the birds! Why, she'll eat a little bird as soon as look at it!'", "This speech caused a remarkable sensation among the party. Some of the birds hurried off at once: one old Magpie began wrapping itself up very carefully, remarking, `I really must be getting home; the night-air doesn't suit my throat!' and a Canary called out in a trembling voice to its children, `Come away, my dears! It's high time you were all in bed!' On various pretexts they all moved off, and Alice was soon left alone.", "`I wish I hadn't mentioned Dinah!' she said to herself in a melancholy tone. `Nobody seems to like her, down here, and I'm sure she's the best cat in the world! Oh, my dear Dinah! I wonder if I shall ever see you any more!' And here poor Alice began to cry again, for she felt very lonely and low-spirited. In a little while, however, she again heard a little pattering of footsteps in the distance, and she looked up eagerly, half hoping that the Mouse had changed his mind, and was coming back to finish his story. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn125.txt b/text/sn125.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1df0f5f62f60ba8f8f532d7f133bea21e8b0e473 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn125.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ + It was the White Rabbit, trotting slowly back again, and looking anxiously about as it went, as if it had lost something; and she heard it muttering to itself 'The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh my dear paws! Oh my fur and whiskers! She'll get me executed, as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where can I have dropped them, I wonder?' Alice guessed in a moment that it was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them, but they were nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and the great hall, with the glass table and the little door, had vanished completely.", "Very soon the Rabbit noticed Alice, as she went hunting about, and called out to her in an angry tone, 'Why, Mary Ann, what are you doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan! Quick, now!' And Alice was so much frightened that she ran off at once in the direction it pointed to, without trying to explain the mistake it had made.", "'He took me for his housemaid,' she said to herself as she ran. 'How surprised he'll be when he finds out who I am! But I'd better take him his fan and gloves—that is, if I can find them.' As she said this, she came upon a neat little house, on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name 'W. RABBIT' engraved upon it. She went in without knocking, and hurried upstairs, in great fear lest she should meet the real Mary Ann, and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves.", '\'How queer it seems,\' Alice said to herself, \'to be going messages for a rabbit! I suppose Dinah\'ll be sending me on messages next!\' And she began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: \'"Miss Alice! Come here directly, and get ready for your walk!" "Coming in a minute, nurse! But I\'ve got to see that the mouse doesn\'t get out." Only I don\'t think,\' Alice went on, \'that they\'d let Dinah stop in the house if it began ordering people about like that!\'', "By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking- glass. There was no label this time with the words 'DRINK ME,' but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips. 'I know something interesting is sure to happen,' she said to herself, 'whenever I eat or drink anything; so I'll just see what this bottle does. I do hope it'll make me grow large again, for really I'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!'", "It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself 'That's quite enough—I hope I shan't grow any more—As it is, I can't get out at the door—I do wish I hadn't drunk quite so much!'", "Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself 'Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What will become of me?'", 'Luckily for Alice, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, and she grew no larger: still it was very uncomfortable, and, as there seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, no wonder she felt unhappy.', "'It was much pleasanter at home,' thought poor Alice, 'when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn't gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and yet—it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life! I do wonder what can have happened to me! When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one! There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I grow up, I'll write one—but I'm grown up now,' she added in a sorrowful tone; 'at least there's no room to grow up any more here.'", "'But then,' thought Alice, 'shall I never get any older than I am now? That'll be a comfort, one way—never to be an old woman— but then—always to have lessons to learn! Oh, I shouldn't like that!'", "'Oh, you foolish Alice!' she answered herself. 'How can you learn lessons in here? Why, there's hardly room for you, and no room at all for any lesson-books!'", 'And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes she heard a voice outside, and stopped to listen.', "'Mary Ann! Mary Ann!' said the voice. 'Fetch me my gloves this moment!' Then came a little pattering of feet on the stairs. Alice knew it was the Rabbit coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as the Rabbit, and had no reason to be afraid of it.", "Presently the Rabbit came up to the door, and tried to open it; but, as the door opened inwards, and Alice's elbow was pressed hard against it, that attempt proved a failure. Alice heard it say to itself 'Then I'll go round and get in at the window.'", "'That you won't' thought Alice, and, after waiting till she fancied she heard the Rabbit just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand, and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of anything, but she heard a little shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible it had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the sort.", "Next came an angry voice—the Rabbit's—'Pat! Pat! Where are you?' And then a voice she had never heard before, 'Sure then I'm here! Digging for apples, yer honour!'", "'Digging for apples, indeed!' said the Rabbit angrily. 'Here! Come and help me out of this!' (Sounds of more broken glass.)", "'Now tell me, Pat, what's that in the window?'", "'Sure, it's an arm, yer honour!' (He pronounced it 'arrum.')", "'An arm, you goose! Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole window!'", "'Sure, it does, yer honour: but it's an arm for all that.'", "'Well, it's got no business there, at any rate: go and take it away!'", "There was a long silence after this, and Alice could only hear whispers now and then; such as, 'Sure, I don't like it, yer honour, at all, at all!' 'Do as I tell you, you coward!' and at last she spread out her hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This time there were two little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. 'What a number of cucumber-frames there must be!' thought Alice. 'I wonder what they'll do next! As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they could! I'm sure I don't want to stay in here any longer!'", "She waited for some time without hearing anything more: at last came a rumbling of little cartwheels, and the sound of a good many voices all talking together: she made out the words: 'Where's the other ladder?—Why, I hadn't to bring but one; Bill's got the other—Bill! fetch it here, lad!--Here, put 'em up at this corner—No, tie 'em together first—they don't reach half high enough yet—Oh! they'll do well enough; don't be particular— Here, Bill! catch hold of this rope—Will the roof bear?—Mind that loose slate—Oh, it's coming down! Heads below!' (a loud crash)—'Now, who did that?—It was Bill, I fancy—Who's to go down the chimney?—Nay, I shan't! you do it!—That I won't, then!—Bill's to go down—Here, Bill! the master says you're to go down the chimney!'", "'Oh! So Bill's got to come down the chimney, has he?' said Alice to herself. 'Shy, they seem to put everything upon Bill! I wouldn't be in Bill's place for a good deal: this fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but I think I can kick a little!'", "She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could, and waited till she heard a little animal (she couldn't guess of what sort it was) scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her: then, saying to herself 'This is Bill,' she gave one sharp kick, and waited to see what would happen next.", "Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, ('That's Bill,' thought Alice,) 'Well, I hardly know—No more, thank ye; I'm better now—but I'm a deal too flustered to tell you—all I know is, something comes at me like a Jack-in-the-box, and up I goes like a sky-rocket!'", "'So you did, old fellow!' said the others.", "'We must burn the house down!' said the Rabbit's voice; and Alice called out as loud as she could, 'If you do. I'll set Dinah at you!'", "There was a dead silence instantly, and Alice thought to herself, 'I wonder what they will do next! If they had any sense, they'd take the roof off.' After a minute or two, they began moving about again, and Alice heard the Rabbit say, 'A barrowful will do, to begin with.'", "'A barrowful of what?' thought Alice; but she had not long to doubt, for the next moment a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window, and some of them hit her in the face. 'I'll put a stop to this,' she said to herself, and shouted out, 'You'd better not do that again!' which produced another dead silence.", "Alice noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her head. 'If I eat one of these cakes,' she thought, 'it's sure to make some change in my size; and as it can't possibly make me larger, it must make me smaller, I suppose.'", 'So she swallowed one of the cakes, and was delighted to find that she began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get through the door, she ran out of the house, and found quite a crowd of little animals and birds waiting outside. The poor little Lizard, Bill, was in the middle, being held up by two guinea-pigs, who were giving it something out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Alice the moment she appeared; but she ran off as hard as she could, and soon found herself safe in a thick wood.', "'The first thing I've got to do,' said Alice to herself, as she wandered about in the wood, 'is to grow to my right size again; and the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be the best plan.'", 'It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged; the only difficulty was, that she had not the smallest idea how to set about it; and while she was peering about anxiously among the trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a great hurry. Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, and made believe to worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, to keep herself from being run over; and the moment she appeared on the other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then Alice, thinking it was very like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut.', "This seemed to Alice a good opportunity for making her escape; so she set off at once, and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and till the puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance.", "'And yet what a dear little puppy it was!' said Alice, as she leant against a buttercup to rest herself, and fanned herself with one of the leaves: 'I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if—if I'd only been the right size to do it! Oh dear! I'd nearly forgotten that I've got to grow up again! Let me see—how is it to be managed? I suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great question is, what?'", 'There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself; and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the top of it. She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah, and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn126.txt b/text/sn126.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..52c59ef5dc96f5060b4b36bf066cc3d59998d874 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn126.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. ADVICE FROM A CATERPILLAR. "Who are you?" said the Caterpillar. This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "I--I hardly know, Sir, just at present--at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.\'\' " What do you mean by that?" said the Cater-pillar, sternly. "Explain yourself!" "I ca\'n\'t explain myself, I\'m afraid, Sir," said Alice, "because I\'m not myself, you see." "I don\'t see," `said the Caterpillar. "I\'m afraid I ca\'n\'t put it more clearly," Alice replied, very politely, "for I ca\'n\'t understand it myself, to begin with; and being so many different sizes in a day is very confusing." "It isn\'t," said the Caterpillar. "Well, perhaps you haven\'t found it so yet, said Alice; "but when you have to turn into a chrysalis--you will some day, you know--and then after that into a butterfly, I should think you\'ll feel it a little queer, wo\'n\'t you?" "Not a bit," said the Caterpillar. "Well, perhaps your feelings may be different," said Alice: "all I know is, it would feel very queer to me." "You!\'\' said the Caterpillar contemptuously. "Who are you?\'\' Which brought them back again to the beginning of the conversation. Alice felt a little irritated at the Caterpillar\'s making such very short remarks, and she drew herself up and said, very gravely, "I think you ought to tell me who you are, first." "Why?\'\' said the Caterpillar. Here was another puzzling question; and, as Alice could not think of any good reason, and the Caterpillar seemed to be in a very unpleasant state of mind, she turned away. "Come back!" the Caterpillar called after her. "I\'ve something important to say!" This sounded promising, certainly. Alice turned and came back again. "Keep your temper," said the Caterpillar. "Is that all?" said Alice, swallowing down her anger as well as she could. "No," said the Caterpillar. Alice thought she might as well wait, as she had nothing else to do, and perhaps after all it might tell her something worth hearing. For some minutes it puffed away without speaking; but at last it unfolded its arms, took the hookah out of ils mouth again, and said "So you think you\'re changed, do you?" "I\'m afraid I am, Sir," said Alice. "I ca\'n\'t remember things as I used and I don\'t keep the same size for ten minutes together!" "Ca\'n\'t remember what things?" said the Caterpillar. "Well, I\'ve tried to say `How doth the little busy bee,\' but it all came different!" Alice replied in a very melancholy voice. "Repeat `You are old, Father William,\'" said the Caterpillar. Alice folded her hands, and began:- "That is not said right," said the Caterpillar. "Not quite right, I\'m afraid," said Alice, timidly: "some of the words have got altered." "It is wrong from beginning to end," said the Caterpillar, decidedly; and there was silence for some minutes. The Caterpillar was the first to speak. "What size do you want to be?" it asked. "Oh, I\'m not particular as to size," Alice hastily replied; "only one doesn\'t like changing so often, you know." "I don\'t know," said the Caterpillar. Alice said nothing: she had never been so much contradicted in all her life before, and she felt that she was losing her temper. "Are you content now?" said the Caterpillar. "Well, I should like to be a little larger, Sir, if you wouldn\'t mind," said Alice: "three inches is such a wretched height to be." "It is a very good height indeed!" said the Caterpillar angrily, rearing itself upright as it spoke (it was exactly three inches high). "But I\'m not used to it!" pleaded poor Alice in a piteous tone. And she thought to herself "I wish the creatures wouldn\'t be so easily offended!" "You\'ll get used to it in time," said the Caterpillar; and it put the hookah into its mouth, and began smoking again. This time Alice waited patiently until it chose to speak again. In a minute or two the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and yawned once or twice, and shook itself. Then it got down off the mushroom, and crawled away into the grass, merely remarking, as it went, "One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter.\'\' "One side of what? The other side of what?" thought Alice to herself. "Of the mushroom," said the Caterpillar, just as if she had asked it aloud; and in another moment it was out of sight. Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and, as it was perfectly round, she found this is a very difficult question. However, at last she stretched her arms round it as far as they would go, and broke off a bit of the edge with each hand. "And now which is which?" she said to herself, and nibbled a little of the right-hand bit to try the effect. The next moment she felt a violent blow underneath her chin: it had struck her foot! She was a good deal frightened by this very sudden change, but she felt that there was no time to be lost, as she was shrinking rapidly: so she set to work at once to eat some of the other bit. Her chin was pressed so closely against her foot, that there was hardly room to open her mouth; but she did it at last, and managed to swallow a morsel of the left-hand bit. * * * * * * * * * * * "Come, my head\'s free at last!" said Alice in a tone of delight, which changed into alarm in another moment, when she found that her shoulders were nowhere to be found: all she could see, when she looked down, was an immense length of neck, which seemed to rise like a stalk out of a sea of green leaves that lay far below her. "What can all that green stuff be?" said Alice. "And where have my shoulders got to? And oh, my poor hands, how is it I ca\'n\'t see you?" She was moving them about, as she spoke, but no result seemed to follow, except a little shaking among the distant green leaves. As there seemed to be no chance of getting her hands up to her head, she tried to get her head down to them, and was delighted to find that her neck would bend about easily in any direction, like a serpent. She had just succeeded in curving it down into a graceful zigzag, and was going to dive in among the leaves, which she found to be nothing but the tops of the trees under which she had been wandering, when a sharp hiss made her draw back in a hurry: a large pigeon had flown into her face, and was beating her violently with its wings. "Serpent!" screamed the Pigeon. "I\'m not a serpent!" said Alice indignantly. "Let me alone!" "Serpent, I say again!" repeated the Pigeon, but in a more subdued tone, and added, with a kind of sob, "I\'ve tried every way, but nothing seems to suit them!" "I haven\'t the least idea what you\'re talking about," said Alice. "I\'ve tried the roots of trees, and I\'ve tried banks, and I\'ve tried hedges," the Pigeon went on, without attending to her; "but those serpents! There\'s no pleasing them!" Alice was more and more puzzled, but she thought that there was no use in saying anything more till the Pigeon had finished. "As if it wasn\'t trouble enough hatching the eggs," said the Pigeon; "but I must be on the look-out for serpents, night and day! Why, I haven\'t had a wink of sleep these three weeks!" "I\'m very sorry you\'ve been annoyed," said Alice, who was beginning to see its meaning. "And just as I\'d taken the highest tree in the wood," continued the Pigeon, raising its voice to a shriek, "and just as I was thinking I should be free of them at last, they must needs come wrig-gling down from the sky! Ugh, Serpent!" "But I\'m not a serpent, I tell you!" said Alice. "I\'m a--I\'m a--" "Well! What are you?" said the Pigeon. "I can see you\'re trying to invent something!" "I--I\'m a little girl," said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through, that day. "A likely story indeed!" said the Pigeon, in a tone of the deepest contempt. "I\'ve seen a good many little girls in my time, but never one with such a neck as that! No, no! You\'re a serpent; and there\'s no use denying it. I suppose you\'ll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!\'\' "I have tasted eggs, certainly," said Alice, who was a very truthful child; "but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know." "I don\'t believe it," said the Pigeon; "but if they do, why, then they\'re a kind of serpent: that\'s all I can say." This was such a new idea to Alice, that she was quite silent for a minute or two, which gave the Pigeon the opportunity of adding "You\'re looking for eggs, I know that well enough; and what does it matter to me whether you\'re a little girl or a serpent?" "It matters a good deal to me," said Alice hastily; "but I\'m not looking for eggs, as it happens; and, if I was, I shouldn\'t want yours: I don\'t like them raw." "Well, be off, then!" said the Pigeon in a sulky tone, as it settled down again into its nest. Alice crouched down among the trees as well as she could, for her neck kept getting entangled among the branches, and every now and then she had to stop and untwist it. After a while she remembered that she still held the pieces of mushroom in her hands, and she set to work very carefully, nibbling first at one and then at the other, and growing sometimes taller, and sometimes shorter, until she had succeeded in bringing herself down to her usual height. It was so long since she had been anything near the right size, that it felt quite strange at first; but she got used to it in a few minutes, and began talking to herself, as usual, "Come, there\'s half my plan done now! How puzzling all these changes are! I\'m never sure what I\'m going to be, from one minute to another! However, I\'ve got back to my right size: the next thing is, to get into that beautiful garden--how is that to be done, I wonder?" As she said this, she came suddenly upon an open place, with a little house in it about four feet high. "Whoever lives there," thought Alice, "it\'ll never do to come upon them this size: why, I should frighten them out of their wits!" So she began nibbling at the right-hand bit again, and did not venture to go near the house till she had brought herself down to nine inches high. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn127.txt b/text/sn127.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ed102885c5b5a72fcfeea261423f17828ae7d0cb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn127.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 18 minutes.', "`I couldn't help it,' said Five, in a sulky tone; `Seven jogged my elbow.'", "On which Seven looked up and said, `That's right, Five! Always lay the blame on others!'", "`YOU'D better not talk!'said Five. `I heard the Queen say only yesterday you deserved to be beheaded!'", "`What for?' said the one who had spoken first.", "`That's none of YOUR business, Two!' said Seven.", "`Yes, it IS his business!' said Five, `and I'll tell him--it was for bringing the cook tulip-roots instead of onions.'", "Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun `Well, of all the unjust things--' when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and all of them bowed low.", "`Would you tell me,' said Alice, a little timidly, `why you are painting those roses?'", "Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low voice, `Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a RED rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to--' At this moment Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out `The Queen! The Queen!' and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice looked round, eager to see the Queen.", "First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King's crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand procession, came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS.", "Alice was rather doubtful whether she ought not to lie down on her face like the three gardeners, but she could not remember every having heard of such a rule at processions; `and besides, what would be the use of a procession,' thought she, `if people had all to lie down upon their faces, so that they couldn't see it?' So she stood still where she was, and waited.", "When the procession came opposite to Alice, they all stopped and looked at her, and the Queen said severely `Who is this?' She said it to the Knave of Hearts, who only bowed and smiled in reply.", "`Idiot!' said the Queen, tossing her head impatiently; and, turning to Alice, she went on, `What's your name, child?'", "`My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,' said Alice very politely; but she added, to herself, `Why, they're only a pack of cards, after all. I needn't be afraid of them!'", "`And who are THESE?' said the Queen, pointing to the three gardeners who were lying round the rosetree; for, you see, as they were lying on their faces, and the pattern on their backs was the same as the rest of the pack, she could not tell whether they were gardeners, or soldiers, or courtiers, or three of her own children.", "`How should I know?' said Alice, surprised at her own courage. `It's no business of MINE.'", "The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a moment like a wild beast, screamed `Off with her head! Off--'", "`Nonsense!' said Alice, very loudly and decidedly, and the Queen was silent.", "The King laid his hand upon her arm, and timidly said `Consider, my dear: she is only a child!'", "The Queen turned angrily away from him, and said to the Knave `Turn them over!'", 'The Knave did so, very carefully, with one foot.', "`Get up!' said the Queen, in a shrill, loud voice, and the three gardeners instantly jumped up, and began bowing to the King, the Queen, the royal children, and everybody else.", "`Leave off that!' screamed the Queen. `You make me giddy.' And then, turning to the rose-tree, she went on, `What HAVE you been doing here?'", "`May it please your Majesty,' said Two, in a very humble tone, going down on one knee as he spoke, `we were trying--'", "`I see!' said the Queen, who had meanwhile been examining the roses. `Off with their heads!' and the procession moved on, three of the soldiers remaining behind to execute the unfortunate gardeners, who ran to Alice for protection.", "`You shan't be beheaded!' said Alice, and she put them into a large flower-pot that stood near. The three soldiers wandered about for a minute or two, looking for them, and then quietly marched off after the others.", "`Are their heads off?' shouted the Queen.", "`Their heads are gone, if it please your Majesty!' the soldiers shouted in reply.", "`That's right!' shouted the Queen. `Can you play croquet?'", 'The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was evidently meant for her.', "`Yes!' shouted Alice.", "`Come on, then!' roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession, wondering very much what would happen next.", "`It's--it's a very fine day!' said a timid voice at her side. She was walking by the White Rabbit, who was peeping anxiously into her face.", "`Very,' said Alice: `--where's the Duchess?'", "`Hush! Hush!' said the Rabbit in a low, hurried tone. He looked anxiously over his shoulder as he spoke, and then raised himself upon tiptoe, put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered `She's under sentence of execution.'", "`What for?' said Alice.", '`Did you say "What a pity!"?\' the Rabbit asked. `No, I didn\'t,\' said Alice: `I don\'t think it\'s at all a pity. I said "What for?"\'', "`She boxed the Queen's ears--' the Rabbit began. Alice gave a little scream of laughter. `Oh, hush!' the Rabbit whispered in a frightened tone. `The Queen will hear you! You see, she came rather late, and the Queen said--'", "`Get to your places!' shouted the Queen in a voice of thunder, and people began running about in all directions, tumbling up against each other; however, they got settled down in a minute or two, and the game began. Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet-ground in her life; it was all ridges and furrows; the balls were live hedgehogs, the mallets live flamingoes, and the soldiers had to double themselves up and to stand on their hands and feet, to make the arches.", 'The chief difficulty Alice found at first was in managing her flamingo: she succeeded in getting its body tucked away, comfortably enough, under her arm, with its legs hanging down, but generally, just as she had got its neck nicely straightened out, and was going to give the hedgehog a blow with its head, it WOULD twist itself round and look up in her face, with such a puzzled expression that she could not help bursting out laughing: and when she had got its head down, and was going to begin again, it was very provoking to find that the hedgehog had unrolled itself, and was in the act of crawling away: besides all this, there was generally a ridge or furrow in the way wherever she wanted to send the hedgehog to, and, as the doubled-up soldiers were always getting up and walking off to other parts of the ground, Alice soon came to the conclusion that it was a very difficult game indeed.', "The players all played at once without waiting for turns, quarrelling all the while, and fighting for the hedgehogs; and in a very short time the Queen was in a furious passion, and went stamping about, and shouting `Off with his head!' or `Off with her head!' about once in a minute.", "Alice began to feel very uneasy: to be sure, she had not as yet had any dispute with the Queen, but she knew that it might happen any minute, `and then,' thought she, `what would become of me? They're dreadfully fond of beheading people here; the great wonder is, that there's any one left alive!'", "She was looking about for some way of escape, and wondering whether she could get away without being seen, when she noticed a curious appearance in the air: it puzzled her very much at first, but, after watching it a minute or two, she made it out to be a grin, and she said to herself `It's the Cheshire Cat: now I shall have somebody to talk to.'", "`How are you getting on?' said the Cat, as soon as there was mouth enough for it to speak with.", "Alice waited till the eyes appeared, and then nodded. `It's no use speaking to it,' she thought, `till its ears have come, or at least one of them.' In another minute the whole head appeared, and then Alice put down her flamingo, and began an account of the game, feeling very glad she had someone to listen to her. The Cat seemed to think that there was enough of it now in sight, and no more of it appeared.", "`I don't think they play at all fairly,' Alice began, in rather a complaining tone,' and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can't hear oneself speak--and they don't seem to have any rules in particular; at least, if there are, nobody attends to them--and you've no idea how confusing it is all the things being alive; for instance, there's the arch I've got to go through next walking about at the other end of the ground--and I should have croqueted the Queen's hedgehog just now, only it ran away when it saw mine coming?'", "`How do you like the Queen?' said the Cat in a low voice.", "`Not at all,' said Alice: `she's so extremely--' Just then she noticed that the Queen was close behind her, listening: so she went on, `--likely to win, that it's hardly worth while finishing the game.'", 'The Queen smiled and passed on.', "`Who ARE you talking to?' said the King, going up to Alice, and looking at the Cat's head with great curiosity.", "`It's a friend of mine--a Cheshire Cat,' said Alice: `allow me to introduce it.'", "`I don't like the look of it at all,' said the King: `however, it may kiss my hand if it likes.'", "`I'd rather not,' the Cat remarked.", "`Don't be impertinent,' said the King, `and don't look at me like that!' He got behind Alice as he spoke.", "`A cat may look at a king,' said Alice. `I've read that in some book, but I don't remember where.'", "`Well, it must be removed,' said the King very decidedly, and he called the Queen, who was passing at the moment, `My dear! I wish you would have this cat removed!'", "The Queen had only one way of settling all difficulties, great or small. `Off with his head!' she said, without even looking round.", "`I'll fetch the executioner myself,' said the King eagerly, and he hurried off.", "Alice thought she might as well go back, and see how the game was going on, as she heard the Queen's voice in the distance, screaming with passion. She had already heard her sentence three of the players to be executed for having missed their turns, and she did not like the look of things at all, as the game was in such confusion that she never knew whether it was her turn or not. So she went in search of her hedgehog.", 'The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other: the only difficulty was, that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the garden, where Alice could see it trying in a helpless sort of way to fly up into a tree.', "By the time she had caught the flamingo and brought it back, the fight was over, and both the hedgehogs were out of sight: `but it doesn't matter much,' thought Alice, `as all the arches are gone from the side of the ground.' So she tucked it away under her arm, that it might not escape again, and went back for a little more conversation with her friend.", 'When she got back to the Cheshire Cat, she was surprised to find quite a large crowd collected round it: there was a dispute going on between the executioner, the King, and the Queen, who were all talking at once, while all the rest were quite silent, and looked very uncomfortable. The moment Alice appeared, she was appealed to by all three to settle the question, and they repeated their arguments to her, though, as they all spoke at once, she found it very hard indeed to make out exactly what they said.', "The executioner's argument was, that you couldn't cut off a head unless there was a body to cut it off from: that he had never had to do such a thing before, and he wasn't going to begin at HIS time of life.", "The King's argument was, that anything that had a head could be beheaded, and that you weren't to talk nonsense.", "The Queen's argument was, that if something wasn't done about it in less than no time she'd have everybody executed, all round. (It was this last remark that had made the whole party look so grave and anxious.)", "Alice could think of nothing else to say but `It belongs to the Duchess: you'd better ask HER about it.'", "`She's in prison,' the Queen said to the executioner: `fetch her here.' And the executioner went off like an arrow.", "The Cat's head began fading away the moment he was gone, and, by the time he had disappeared; so the King and the executioner ran wildly up and down looking for it, while the rest of the party went back to the game. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn128.txt b/text/sn128.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..95c3c2f886caf62fcc68fb85eecf618ad1883888 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn128.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +In this story it is performed by the Mock Turtle and The Gryffon, and there is a song about a fish (a whiting) and a lobster. In short, this is a very strange and quite musical episode. Read by Natasha. Duration 21 minutes. The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and drew the back of one flapper across his eyes. He looked at Alice, and tried to speak, but for a minute or two sobs choked his voice. `Same as if he had a bone', "in his throat,' said the Gryphon: and it set to work shaking him", 'and punching him in the back. At last the Mock Turtle recovered his voice, and, with tears running down his cheeks, he went on again:--', "`You may not have lived much under the sea--' (`I haven't,' said Alice)--", "`and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster--'", "(Alice began to say `I once tasted--' but checked herself hastily,", "and said `No, never') `--so you can have no idea what a delightful", "thing a Lobster Quadrille is!'", "`No, indeed,' said Alice. `What sort of a dance is it?'", "`Why,' said the Gryphon, `you first form into a line along the sea-shore--'", "`Two lines!' cried the Mock Turtle. `Seals, turtles, salmon, and so on;", "then, when you've cleared all the jelly-fish out of the way--'", "`THAT generally takes some time,' interrupted the Gryphon.", "`--you advance twice--'", "`Each with a lobster as a partner!' cried the Gryphon.", "`Of course,' the Mock Turtle said: `advance twice, set to", "partners--'", "`--change lobsters, and retire in same order,' continued the", 'Gryphon.', "`Then, you know,' the Mock Turtle went on, `you throw the--'", "`The lobsters!' shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air.", "`--as far out to sea as you can--'", "`Swim after them!' screamed the Gryphon.", "`Turn a somersault in the sea!' cried the Mock Turtle,", 'capering wildly about.', "`Change lobsters again!' yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice.", "`Back to land again, and that's all the first figure,' said the", 'Mock Turtle, suddenly dropping his voice; and the two creatures, who had been jumping about like mad things all this time, sat down again very sadly and quietly, and looked at Alice.', "`It must be a very pretty dance,' said Alice timidly.", "`Would you like to see a little of it?' said the Mock Turtle.", "`Very much indeed,' said Alice.", "`Come, let's try the first figure!' said the Mock Turtle to the", 'Gryphon. `We can do without lobsters, you know. Which shall', "sing?'", "`Oh, YOU sing,' said the Gryphon. `I've forgotten the words.'", 'So they began solemnly dancing round and round Alice, every now and then treading on her toes when they passed too close, and waving their forepaws to mark the time, while the Mock Turtle sang this, very slowly and sadly:-- `"Will you walk a little faster?" said a whiting to a snail. "There\'s a porpoise close behind us, and he\'s treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are waiting on the shingle--will you come and join the dance?', "Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the", 'dance?', "Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the", 'dance? "You can really have no notion how delightful it will be When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!" But the snail replied "Too far, too far!" and gave a look askance-- Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance. `"What matters it how far we go?" his scaly friend replied. "There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. The further off from England the nearer is to France-- Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance.', "Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the", 'dance?', "Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the", 'dance?"\'', "`Thank you, it's a very interesting dance to watch,' said", 'Alice, feeling very glad that it was over at last: `and I do so', "like that curious song about the whiting!'", "`Oh, as to the whiting,' said the Mock Turtle, `they--you've", "seen them, of course?'", "`Yes,' said Alice, `I've often seen them at dinn--' she", 'checked herself hastily.', "`I don't know where Dinn may be,' said the Mock Turtle, `but", "if you've seen them so often, of course you know what they're", "like.'", "`I believe so,' Alice replied thoughtfully. `They have their", "tails in their mouths--and they're all over crumbs.'", "`You're wrong about the crumbs,' said the Mock Turtle:", '`crumbs would all wash off in the sea. But they HAVE their tails', "in their mouths; and the reason is--' here the Mock Turtle", 'yawned and shut his eyes.--`Tell her about the reason and all', "that,' he said to the Gryphon.", "`The reason is,' said the Gryphon, `that they WOULD go with", 'the lobsters to the dance. So they got thrown out to sea. So they had to fall a long way. So they got their tails fast in', "their mouths. So they couldn't get them out again. That's all.'", "`Thank you,' said Alice, `it's very interesting. I never knew", "so much about a whiting before.'", "`I can tell you more than that, if you like,' said the", "Gryphon. `Do you know why it's called a whiting?'", "`I never thought about it,' said Alice. `Why?'", "`IT DOES THE BOOTS AND SHOES.' the Gryphon replied very", 'solemnly.', "Alice was thoroughly puzzled. `Does the boots and shoes!' she", 'repeated in a wondering tone.', "`Why, what are YOUR shoes done with?' said the Gryphon. `I", "mean, what makes them so shiny?'", 'Alice looked down at them, and considered a little before she', "gave her answer. `They're done with blacking, I believe.'", "`Boots and shoes under the sea,' the Gryphon went on in a deep", "voice, `are done with a whiting. Now you know.'", "`And what are they made of?' Alice asked in a tone of great", 'curiosity.', "`Soles and eels, of course,' the Gryphon replied rather", "impatiently: `any shrimp could have told you that.'", "`If I'd been the whiting,' said Alice, whose thoughts were", 'still running on the song, `I\'d have said to the porpoise, "Keep back, please: we don\'t want YOU with us!"\'', "`They were obliged to have him with them,' the Mock Turtle", "said: `no wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise.'", "`Wouldn't it really?' said Alice in a tone of great surprise.", "`Of course not,' said the Mock Turtle: `why, if a fish came", 'to ME, and told me he was going a journey, I should say "With what porpoise?"\' `Don\'t you mean "purpose"?\' said Alice.', "`I mean what I say,' the Mock Turtle replied in an offended", "tone. And the Gryphon added `Come, let's hear some of YOUR", "adventures.'", "`I could tell you my adventures--beginning from this morning,'", "said Alice a little timidly: `but it's no use going back to", "yesterday, because I was a different person then.'", "`Explain all that,' said the Mock Turtle.", "`No, no! The adventures first,' said the Gryphon in an", "impatient tone: `explanations take such a dreadful time.'", 'So Alice began telling them her adventures from the time when she first saw the White Rabbit. She was a little nervous about it just at first, the two creatures got so close to her, one on each side, and opened their eyes and mouths so VERY wide, but she gained courage as she went on. Her listeners were perfectly quiet till she got to the part about her repeating `YOU ARE OLD,', "FATHER WILLIAM,' to the Caterpillar, and the words all coming", 'different, and then the Mock Turtle drew a long breath, and said', "`That's very curious.'", "`It's all about as curious as it can be,' said the Gryphon.", "`It all came different!' the Mock Turtle repeated", 'thoughtfully. `I should like to hear her try and repeat', "something now. Tell her to begin.' He looked at the Gryphon as", 'if he thought it had some kind of authority over Alice. `Stand up and repeat "\'TIS THE VOICE OF THE SLUGGARD,"\' said the Gryphon. `How the creatures order one about, and make one repeat', "lessons!' thought Alice; `I might as well be at school at once.'", 'However, she got up, and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of the Lobster Quadrille, that she hardly knew what she was saying, and the words came very queer indeed:--', "`'Tis the voice of the Lobster; I heard him declare,", '"You have baked me too brown, I must sugar my hair." As a duck with its eyelids, so he with his nose', "Trims his belt and his buttons, and turns out his toes.'", '[later editions continued as follows When the sands are all dry, he is gay as a lark, And will talk in contemptuous tones of the Shark, But, when the tide rises and sharks are around, His voice has a timid and tremulous sound.]', "`That's different from what I used to say when I was a child,'", 'said the Gryphon.', "`Well, I never heard it before,' said the Mock Turtle; `but it", "sounds uncommon nonsense.'", 'Alice said nothing; she had sat down with her face in her hands, wondering if anything would EVER happen in a natural way again.', "`I should like to have it explained,' said the Mock Turtle.", "`She can't explain it,' said the Gryphon hastily. `Go on with", "the next verse.'", "`But about his toes?' the Mock Turtle persisted. `How COULD", "he turn them out with his nose, you know?'", "`It's the first position in dancing.' Alice said; but was", 'dreadfully puzzled by the whole thing, and longed to change the subject.', "`Go on with the next verse,' the Gryphon repeated impatiently:", '`it begins "I passed by his garden."\' Alice did not dare to disobey, though she felt sure it would all come wrong, and she went on in a trembling voice:-- `I passed by his garden, and marked, with one eye,', "How the Owl and the Panther were sharing a pie--'", '[later editions continued as follows The Panther took pie-crust, and gravy, and meat, While the Owl had the dish as its share of the treat. When the pie was all finished, the Owl, as a boon, Was kindly permitted to pocket the spoon: While the Panther received knife and fork with a growl, And concluded the banquet--]', "`What IS the use of repeating all that stuff,' the Mock Turtle", "interrupted, `if you don't explain it as you go on? It's by far", "the most confusing thing I ever heard!'", "`Yes, I think you'd better leave off,' said the Gryphon: and", 'Alice was only too glad to do so.', "`Shall we try another figure of the Lobster Quadrille?' the", 'Gryphon went on. `Or would you like the Mock Turtle to sing you', "a song?'", "`Oh, a song, please, if the Mock Turtle would be so kind,'", 'Alice replied, so eagerly that the Gryphon said, in a rather offended tone, `Hm! No accounting for tastes! Sing her "Turtle Soup," will you, old fellow?\' The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, and began, in a voice sometimes choked with sobs, to sing this:-- `Beautiful Soup, so rich and green, Waiting in a hot tureen! Who for such dainties would not stoop? Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup! Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Soo--oop of the e--e--evening, Beautiful, beautiful Soup! `Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish, Game, or any other dish? Who would not give all else for two Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup? Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Beau--ootiful Soo--oop! Soo--oop of the e--e--evening,', "Beautiful, beauti--FUL SOUP!'", "`Chorus again!' cried the Gryphon, and the Mock Turtle had", "just begun to repeat it, when a cry of `The trial's beginning!'", 'was heard in the distance.', "`Come on!' cried the Gryphon, and, taking Alice by the hand,", 'it hurried off, without waiting for the end of the song.', "`What trial is it?' Alice panted as she ran; but the Gryphon", "only answered `Come on!' and ran the faster, while more and more", 'faintly came, carried on the breeze that followed them, the melancholy words:-- `Soo--oop of the e--e--evening,', "Beautiful, beautiful Soup!' \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn129.txt b/text/sn129.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2aaf477cfa36afb8b22bf4d2263a51376ea77d2a --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn129.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +We reach the last but one chapter of the first Alice book. The trial begins of the Knave of Hearts on the charge of stealing the tarts. Many familiar faces are present in the court room. The judge is the King, and his is assisted by the ferocious queen. The Mad Hatter gives some very nervous evidence, and is contradicted by the March Hare. The juror's box is filled with small animals and birds who feaverishly take notes. Alice begins to doubt that justice really will be done.", 'Read by Natasha. Duration 14.15.', "`Herald, read the accusation!' said the King.", "`Consider your verdict,' the King said to the jury.", "`Fifteenth,' said the March Hare.", "`Sixteenth,' added the Dormouse.", "`Take off your hat,' the King said to the Hatter.", "`It isn't mine,' said the Hatter.", "`I can't help it,' said Alice very meekly: `I'm growing.'", "`You've no right to grow here,' said the Dormouse.", "`The twinkling of the what?' said the King.", "`It began with the tea,' the Hatter replied.", "`I didn't!' the March Hare interrupted in a great hurry.", "`You did!' said the Hatter.", "`I deny it!' said the March Hare.", "`He denies it,' said the King: `leave out that part.'", "`But what did the Dormouse say?' one of the jury asked.", "`That I can't remember,' said the Hatter.", "`You're a very poor speaker,' said the King.", "`Then you may SIT down,' the King replied.", 'Here the other guinea-pig cheered, and was suppressed.', "`Call the next witness!' said the King.", "`Give your evidence,' said the King.", "`Shan't,' said the cook.", "`Pepper, mostly,' said the cook.", "`Treacle,' said a sleepy voice behind her. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn13.txt b/text/sn13.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d0ee512956ffe0e586294441d869d160109779fe --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn13.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Click Pictures to Enlarge Katie and her best friend Isis are very different from one another. Apart from the fact that Katie is a witch, and Isis isn’t, there are many more differences. Isis has a nice big house, nice clothes, and a very pretty face. Katie is not nearly so well-off in those ways. One day Katie and Isis decide to swap their lives. Katie uses her magic powers for the experiment. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Pictures by CaiJia Eng. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. It was 9am on Monday morning, and the corridor at school was echoing with shrill voices and swarming with every type of kid – neat, scruffy, tall, dumpy, nice-mannered, plain rude, sporty, smart, not so smart, and the odd genius. Each and every one of them was unique. For instance, who else but Katie knew the magic spell for turning brown bread into chocolate cake? And who else but Isis came to school with a brand new hair band every Monday? Katie found herself walking behind the blonde head of her best friend now. She tapped her on the shoulder: “Nice hair band,” she said. “Oh, Thank you,” said Isis. “And that’s a pretty hair band that you’re wearing too.” Katie was surprised, because Isis didn’t normally compliment her on what she was wearing. “Do you really think so?” she asked. “Yes, I do,” replied Isis. “In fact, let’s swap.” And before class, there was just time to swap hair accessories and check how they looked in Isis’s compact mirror. The swap brightened up a dull Monday, and it was kind of nice to exchange something because, well, you would only do that sort of thing with your best friend. On Tuesday they swapped shoes. Isis wore Katie’s solid clumpy lace-ups that were strictly school regulation issue. As she took her first steps in them, she said: “Katie I don’t know how you walk in these without turning into Dobbin the Mule.” And Katie tottered along in Isis’s pointy slip-ons with hints of heals. Miss Vile told her that if she ever wore them again she would be sent home to change into sensible shoes. “That’s not fair,” thought Katie. “No teacher ever said that to Isis.” On Wednesday they swapped MP3 players. Katie listened to Isis’s chart topping girl band music and thought it was fun to dance to for one evening, but Isis didn’t listen to Katie’s underground rock music because it was far too weird. On Thursday they swapped books. Isis did try to read Katie’s book on famous witches in history, but it was really hard going because it was printed in strange Gothic letters. Katie read two chapters of Isis’s paperback novel about a girl who had a magic pony, but she thought it was all nonsense, because the writer clearly didn’t have any experience or knowledge of magic in real life. On Friday they swapped watches. Katie wore Isis’s watch that had little teddy bears instead of numbers, and Isis wore Katie’s magic watch that went backwards for some reason that Katie tried to explain, but Isis simply couldn’t for the life of her understand. But the following Monday neither of them could think of what else to swap. So they didn’t – at least, not until it was going home time. As they were crossing the school playground toward the gate, Katie said: “I know. Let’s go the whole way. Let’s swap identities.” “You mean like, passports?” “No silly. Like I become you and you become me, just for a day…. oh go on, please Isis, say you will, it will be such fun, and nobody will ever know.” “But that’s impos….” But of course it wasn’t, because Katie’s a witch and can do all sorts of things that you wouldn’t think were at all possible, although they can work out rather strangely sometimes. A moment later Isis realised that she was looking at herself … only it wasn’t herself, because she was herself, but suddenly Katie looked like Isis…. "Oh no!" she screeched ….. And then she burst into fits of giggles. “And do you mean to say I look like you?” “Of course.” “Oh Gross!…Oh I didn’t mean it like that, it was just a joke Katie…." But Katie wasn’t hurt because it was all too exciting. Outside the school gate, Katie went to meet Isis’s mum in her car, and Isis went to meet Katie’s mum in her car. The inside of Isis’s family car smelt of “newness.” As Katie strapped herself into the unfamiliar soft white leather seat, Isis’s mum kissed her and asked: “Had a good day darling?” And Katie thought: “Life as Isis isn’t going to be half bad.” And as Isis searched for the seat-belt buckle in a rather rustier and smaller car than she was used to, Katie’s mum snapped her fingers and the seat belt fastened itself up. And Isis thought: “It’s quite nice to be Katie, when every problem can be solved in a snap.” Isis had never been to Katie’s house before. As she came in, she was amazed at the amounts of clutter in the corridor. There were so many coats, cloaks, and hats that it was hard to find a peg for her coat. And it only got worse the further she got into the house. The living room was so full of boxes, fabrics, glass jars, old-fashioned dolls, unconnected chandeliers, and piled up antique furniture that she couldn’t find the television set, let alone the remote control. But Isis’s house was so spacious and empty that Katie did not know where to start looking for Isis’s room. She went up the broad sweeping staircase and found that there were six doors and two more floors to the top. Then she remembered that she still had Isis’s book in her school bag. She took it out, and said: “Book, which is Isis’s room?” and the book said: “Third door on the left.” Over in the other house, as Isis went upstairs, Katie’s mum called out: “Katie, can you switch on the crystal ball and see if you can find Solomon? He hasn’t been back since he went for a walk last night and I’m starting to get worried about him.” “Sure Mum,” Isis called back. She knew that Solomon was Katie’s cat, but she had no idea where the crystal ball was, let alone how to switch it on. She explored the three rooms upstairs. One was the bathroom. One had a double bed. The other was clearly Katie’s room, because her school books and clothes were strewn all over the floor. A crystal ball sat among the pens and piles of paper on Katie’s dressing table. She examined it, looking in vain for an on-off switch. In Isis’s bedroom, Katie was trying on her friend’s tortoise shell sunglasses. They fitted so perfectly over her pretty, slightly turned up nose. She looked into the mirror and thought: “It’s not hard to be popular with a face like this.” Meanwhile Isis was looking into Katie’s mirror and couldn’t help sniggering, because even though Katie was her best friend, her face was kind of funny. Katie searched through Isis’s wardrobe for something simple to wear around the house but she couldn’t find anything at all suitable. Not the black baby-doll dress, not the tennis outfit, not the emerald floor length silk party dress, not the jodhpurs, not the skiing pants, not the silk scarves or pashminas, not… not anything really. Isis was changing into one of Katie’s hooded running shirts. She wouldn’t be seen dead in one normally, but since she looked like Katie, it sort of suited her. When Katie came down for dinner wearing a pristine white shirt, she found her place around the dining table that was as long as a swimming pool and Isis’s mum said: “I called Miss Vile and she agreed to change your B+ for Geography to A.” “My goodness. How did you manage to mellow Miss Vile?” asked Katie. “Oh, I used my powers of persuasion,” said Isis’s mum. And Katie thought different mothers had different powers. Her own mum would never think of trying to make Miss Vile change her grades, even though she could easily put a magic spell on her. And when Isis sat down at the kitchen table in Katie’s house, Katie’s mum said: “Did you manage to track down Solomon on the crystal ball?” And Isis put on Katie’s puzzled expression and said: “No, I can’t see him anywhere.” And Katie’s mum looked worried and said that it was really unusual for him not to come home for dinner. She ladled out the witch’s broth into a bowl. Isis looked at the lumpy green liquid and thought: “Will she believe me if I say I’m not feeling well?” Meanwhile Katie was looking at three wafer thin slices of parma ham and half a skinned avocado on her white plate and thinking: “Is that it?” A moment or two later her plate was empty. Isis’ mum asked: “Anything else dear?” “Any chance of some ice cream?” asked Katie. And Isis’s mum turned as white as vanilla and exclaimed: “Ice cream? You’ve never asked for that before. It’s full of sugar. You’ll get spots!” While at Katie’s house, Isis had finished her witch’s broth, and found that it was quite tasty really, and it gave her a nice warm, full feeling inside. Katie’s mum brought her a cornet with a large round ball of mint-chocolate chip ice cream and she thought: “Yum Yum.” It was a very happy Isis that went upstairs to Katie’s room after dinner. She thought to herself that Katie’s mum really was a sweety, even if she was a witch. And there was a nice surprise waiting for her on her pillow - Solomon. “Naughty cat,” she said. “You had us all worried.”She picked him up and was about to call out: “Mum, I’ve found him,” when Solomon let out a screech and scratched her nose. “AHHH…” she called out, and Solomon streaked downstairs. As she examined the damage in the mirror she thought: “Well at least it’s Katie’s nose he scratched, not mine.” Meanwhile, in Isis’s bedroom, Katie was doing her friend’s homework. It was full of horrid maths problems, and she was far too excited to sit down and concentrate, so she used a quick magic spell. At home, she wasn’t allowed to use magic for her school-work, but well, she wasn’t at home, and besides, this was Isis’s work, and it had to look ever so neat. She changed a few answers to make them wrong, otherwise the teacher might suspect something was up. And Isis sat at Katie’s table, and tried to do some scrawly handwriting that looked like her friend’s. She made sure that there was an ink blot on the page because that’s what Katie’s work normally looked like. Later on, Isis sat in bed wearing Katie’s psychedelic pyjamas, and opened up Katie’s diary. All the pages were blank. “I bet she uses invisible ink,” she said to herself, and she thought for a long time about what the magic password might be. Somehow, with the witch’s broth inside her tummy, she thought she might have some magical inspiration. “I know,”she said. “It’s catnip!” And in an instant, all the pages were covered in Katie’s messy handwriting. She turned the corners avidly looking for remarks about herself, but most of it seemed to be about somebody called Paul. But Katie was reading Isis’s diary, and she found that she only filled it in about once a week, and then it was usually to say something about her pony. She picked up a pen and wrote: “Today I did a big swap with my best friend Katie who is an extremely clever witch.” In the morning, Isis tried to comb her hair, which was of course Katie’s hair and far more tangled and knotty than her own. It was really quite painful. And Katie looked in the mirror at Isis’s face and thought: “It’s nice to be a blonde.” She slipped on Isis’s pointy shoes and was pleased to think that Miss Vile wouldn’t send her home to change them because Isis could get away with so many stylish things that she couldn’t. When the two friends saw each other at school, at first they couldn’t help giggling, but then Isis said: “Hey Katie, that shirt’s not tucked in. And look at this; your tie’s not straight. And as for your... I mean...my hair, couldn’t you find my comb? Now that you’re me, you’ve got standards to keep up. You can’t go around looking like a scruff when you are wearing my identity.” And Katie said: “Why did Solomon scratch your...I mean...my face? If you’ve been nasty to my cat, I’ll kill you!” And they would have quarrelled more, only Miss Vile came into the class room and they had to sit down at each other’s desks and keep quiet. At break-time they both avoided each other. Katie hung out with Isis’s friends, and Isis didn’t quite know who to hang out with, because Katie didn’t have nearly as many friends as she did. She went for a walk by herself around the playing field, and on the way back to the class room she met Rachel, a tall girl from the year above, who said: “Hey Katie, have you been out collecting toads?” which was the sort of nasty thing that some people said to Katie quite often. As Isis shook her fist, the girl said sarcastically: “Oooh–ooh, don’t put a magic spell on me.” Meanwhile Katie was listening to Samantha and Isabelle chatter on about which soap stars were going out with which footballers according to Hot Gossip magazine. “Sometimes,” thought Katie, “It’s just a bit boring being Isis.” And she began to see that having perfect looks, perfect clothes, and a perfect house could become a bit of a pain after a while. And so at lunchtime, the two friends hugged each other, and Katie whispered the magic reverse-spell to turn them back into themselves. “Oh, that’s a relief,” said Isis, as she looked at her pretty hands and neatly cut fingernails. “Well I’m kind of comfortable in my own skin too,” said Katie. And she thought to herself that although there was a lot to be said for being somebody else for a while, if only to get a new view on life, you could only really be happy as yourself, imperfections and all. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn130.txt b/text/sn130.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ba182a599de9c1b0dc9f4d00c8f4ca03296fb69e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn130.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ + We reach the final Chapter of Alice\'s Adventures in Wonderland - but don\'t worry - there are more adventures to come "Through The Looking Glass". Justice is not exactly done in this Wonderland trial - in fact Alice is infuriated by the lack of it. She is growing again in stature and in confidence, and is provoked to shout her famous line: "You\'re nothing but a pack of cards!" The lyrical epilogue is in a different vein to the rest of Alice but it brings the book to a suitably reamy conclusion. Read by Natasha. Duration 17.23. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. CHAPTER XII. Alice’s Evidence \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn131.txt b/text/sn131.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..739bb0f37335a7d1ab4cf7ed464896c4ac705b58 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn131.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Garden of Live Flowers Read by Natasha. Duration 24.37. And so she did: wandering up and down, and trying turn after turn, but always coming back to the house, do what she would. Indeed, once, when she turned a corner rather more quickly than usual, she ran against it before she could stop herself.', "'It's no use talking about it,' Alice said, looking up at the house and pretending it was arguing with her. 'I'm NOT going in again yet. I know I should have to get through the Looking-glass again—back into the old room—and there'd be an end of all my adventures!'", "So, resolutely turning her back upon the house, she set out once more down the path, determined to keep straight on till she got to the hill. For a few minutes all went on well, and she was just saying, 'I really SHALL do it this time—' when the path gave a sudden twist and shook itself (as she described it afterwards), and the next moment she found herself actually walking in at the door.", "'Oh, it's too bad!' she cried. 'I never saw such a house for getting in the way! Never!'", 'However, there was the hill full in sight, so there was nothing to be done but start again. This time she came upon a large flower-bed, with a border of daisies, and a willow-tree growing in the middle.', "'O Tiger-lily,' said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving gracefully about in the wind, 'I WISH you could talk!'", "'We CAN talk,' said the Tiger-lily: 'when there's anybody worth talking to.'", "Alice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite seemed to take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went on waving about, she spoke again, in a timid voice—almost in a whisper. 'And can ALL the flowers talk?'", "'As well as YOU can,' said the Tiger-lily. 'And a great deal louder.'", '\'It isn\'t manners for us to begin, you know,\' said the Rose, \'and I really was wondering when you\'d speak! Said I to myself, "Her face has got SOME sense in it, though it\'s not a clever one!" Still, you\'re the right colour, and that goes a long way.\'', "'I don't care about the colour,' the Tiger-lily remarked. 'If only her petals curled up a little more, she'd be all right.'", "Alice didn't like being criticised, so she began asking questions. 'Aren't you sometimes frightened at being planted out here, with nobody to take care of you?'", "'There's the tree in the middle,' said the Rose: 'what else is it good for?'", "'But what could it do, if any danger came?' Alice asked.", '\'It says "Bough-wough!"\' cried a Daisy: \'that\'s why its branches are called boughs!\'', "'Didn't you know THAT?' cried another Daisy, and here they all began shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices. 'Silence, every one of you!' cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. 'They know I can't get at them!' it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice, 'or they wouldn't dare to do it!'", "'Never mind!' Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, 'If you don't hold your tongues, I'll pick you!'", 'There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned white.', "'That's right!' said the Tiger-lily. 'The daisies are worst of all. When one speaks, they all begin together, and it's enough to make one wither to hear the way they go on!'", "'How is it you can all talk so nicely?' Alice said, hoping to get it into a better temper by a compliment. 'I've been in many gardens before, but none of the flowers could talk.'", "'Put your hand down, and feel the ground,' said the Tiger-lily. 'Then you'll know why.'", "Alice did so. 'It's very hard,' she said, 'but I don't see what that has to do with it.'", "'In most gardens,' the Tiger-lily said, 'they make the beds too soft—so that the flowers are always asleep.'", "This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it. 'I never thought of that before!' she said.", "'It's MY opinion that you never think AT ALL,' the Rose said in a rather severe tone.", "'I never saw anybody that looked stupider,' a Violet said, so suddenly, that Alice quite jumped; for it hadn't spoken before.", "'Hold YOUR tongue!' cried the Tiger-lily. 'As if YOU ever saw anybody! You keep your head under the leaves, and snore away there, till you know no more what's going on in the world, than if you were a bud!'", "'Are there any more people in the garden besides me?' Alice said, not choosing to notice the Rose's last remark.", "'There's one other flower in the garden that can move about like you,' said the Rose. 'I wonder how you do it—' ('You're always wondering,' said the Tiger-lily), 'but she's more bushy than you are.'", "'Is she like me?' Alice asked eagerly, for the thought crossed her mind, 'There's another little girl in the garden, somewhere!'", "'Well, she has the same awkward shape as you,' the Rose said, 'but she's redder—and her petals are shorter, I think.'", "'Her petals are done up close, almost like a dahlia,' the Tiger-lily interrupted: 'not tumbled about anyhow, like yours.'", "'But that's not YOUR fault,' the Rose added kindly: 'you're beginning to fade, you know—and then one can't help one's petals getting a little untidy.'", "Alice didn't like this idea at all: so, to change the subject, she asked 'Does she ever come out here?'", "'I daresay you'll see her soon,' said the Rose. 'She's one of the thorny kind.'", "'Where does she wear the thorns?' Alice asked with some curiosity.", "'Why all round her head, of course,' the Rose replied. 'I was wondering YOU hadn't got some too. I thought it was the regular rule.'", "'She's coming!' cried the Larkspur. 'I hear her footstep, thump, thump, thump, along the gravel-walk!'", "Alice looked round eagerly, and found that it was the Red Queen. 'She's grown a good deal!' was her first remark. She had indeed: when Alice first found her in the ashes, she had been only three inches high—and here she was, half a head taller than Alice herself!", "'It's the fresh air that does it,' said the Rose: 'wonderfully fine air it is, out here.'", "'I think I'll go and meet her,' said Alice, for, though the flowers were interesting enough, she felt that it would be far grander to have a talk with a real Queen.", "'You can't possibly do that,' said the Rose: 'I should advise you to walk the other way.'", 'This sounded nonsense to Alice, so she said nothing, but set off at once towards the Red Queen. To her surprise, she lost sight of her in a moment, and found herself walking in at the front-door again. A little provoked, she drew back, and after looking everywhere for the queen (whom she spied out at last, a long way off), she thought she would try the plan, this time, of walking in the opposite direction. It succeeded beautifully. She had not been walking a minute before she found herself face to face with the Red Queen, and full in sight of the hill she had been so long aiming at.', "'Where do you come from?' said the Red Queen. 'And where are you going? Look up, speak nicely, and don't twiddle your fingers all the time.'", 'Alice attended to all these directions, and explained, as well as she could, that she had lost her way.', "'I don't know what you mean by YOUR way,' said the Queen: 'all the ways about here belong to ME—but why did you come out here at all?' she added in a kinder tone. 'Curtsey while you're thinking what to say, it saves time.'", "Alice wondered a little at this, but she was too much in awe of the Queen to disbelieve it. 'I'll try it when I go home,' she thought to herself, 'the next time I'm a little late for dinner.'", '\'It\'s time for you to answer now,\' the Queen said, looking at her watch: \'open your mouth a LITTLE wider when you speak, and always say "your Majesty."\'', "'I only wanted to see what the garden was like, your Majesty—'", '\'That\'s right,\' said the Queen, patting her on the head, which Alice didn\'t like at all, \'though, when you say "garden,"—I\'VE seen gardens, compared with which this would be a wilderness.\'', "Alice didn't dare to argue the point, but went on: '—and I thought I'd try and find my way to the top of that hill—'", '\'When you say "hill,"\' the Queen interrupted, \'I could show you hills, in comparison with which you\'d call that a valley.\'', "'No, I shouldn't,' said Alice, surprised into contradicting her at last: 'a hill CAN'T be a valley, you know. That would be nonsense—'", 'The Red Queen shook her head, \'You may call it "nonsense" if you like,\' she said, \'but I\'VE heard nonsense, compared with which that would be as sensible as a dictionary!\'', "Alice curtseyed again, as she was afraid from the Queen's tone that she was a LITTLE offended: and they walked on in silence till they got to the top of the little hill.", 'For some minutes Alice stood without speaking, looking out in all directions over the country—and a most curious country it was. There were a number of tiny little brooks running straight across it from side to side, and the ground between was divided up into squares by a number of little green hedges, that reached from brook to brook.', "'I declare it's marked out just like a large chessboard!' Alice said at last. 'There ought to be some men moving about somewhere—and so there are!' She added in a tone of delight, and her heart began to beat quick with excitement as she went on. 'It's a great huge game of chess that's being played—all over the world—if this IS the world at all, you know. Oh, what fun it is! How I WISH I was one of them! I wouldn't mind being a Pawn, if only I might join—though of course I should LIKE to be a Queen, best.'", "She glanced rather shyly at the real Queen as she said this, but her companion only smiled pleasantly, and said, 'That's easily managed. You can be the White Queen's Pawn, if you like, as Lily's too young to play; and you're in the Second Square to begin with: when you get to the Eighth Square you'll be a Queen—' Just at this moment, somehow or other, they began to run.", "Alice never could quite make out, in thinking it over afterwards, how it was that they began: all she remembers is, that they were running hand in hand, and the Queen went so fast that it was all she could do to keep up with her: and still the Queen kept crying 'Faster! Faster!' but Alice felt she COULD NOT go faster, though she had not breath left to say so.", "The most curious part of the thing was, that the trees and the other things round them never changed their places at all: however fast they went, they never seemed to pass anything. 'I wonder if all the things move along with us?' thought poor puzzled Alice. And the Queen seemed to guess her thoughts, for she cried, 'Faster! Don't try to talk!'", "Not that Alice had any idea of doing THAT. She felt as if she would never be able to talk again, she was getting so much out of breath: and still the Queen cried 'Faster! Faster!' and dragged her along. 'Are we nearly there?' Alice managed to pant out at last.", "'Nearly there!' the Queen repeated. 'Why, we passed it ten minutes ago! Faster!' And they ran on for a time in silence, with the wind whistling in Alice's ears, and almost blowing her hair off her head, she fancied.", "'Now! Now!' cried the Queen. 'Faster! Faster!' And they went so fast that at last they seemed to skim through the air, hardly touching the ground with their feet, till suddenly, just as Alice was getting quite exhausted, they stopped, and she found herself sitting on the ground, breathless and giddy.", "The Queen propped her up against a tree, and said kindly, 'You may rest a little now.'", "Alice looked round her in great surprise. 'Why, I do believe we've been under this tree the whole time! Everything's just as it was!'", "'Of course it is,' said the Queen, 'what would you have it?'", "'Well, in OUR country,' said Alice, still panting a little, 'you'd generally get to somewhere else—if you ran very fast for a long time, as we've been doing.'", "'A slow sort of country!' said the Queen. 'Now, HERE, you see, it takes all the running YOU can do, to keep in the same place. If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!'", "'I'd rather not try, please!' said Alice. 'I'm quite content to stay here—only I AM so hot and thirsty!'", "'I know what YOU'D like!' the Queen said good-naturedly, taking a little box out of her pocket. 'Have a biscuit?'", "Alice thought it would not be civil to say 'No,' though it wasn't at all what she wanted. So she took it, and ate it as well as she could: and it was VERY dry; and she thought she had never been so nearly choked in all her life.", "'While you're refreshing yourself,' said the Queen, 'I'll just take the measurements.' And she took a ribbon out of her pocket, marked in inches, and began measuring the ground, and sticking little pegs in here and there.", "'At the end of two yards,' she said, putting in a peg to mark the distance, 'I shall give you your directions—have another biscuit?'", "'No, thank you,' said Alice: 'one's QUITE enough!'", "'Thirst quenched, I hope?' said the Queen.", "Alice did not know what to say to this, but luckily the Queen did not wait for an answer, but went on. 'At the end of THREE yards I shall repeat them—for fear of your forgetting them. At the end of FOUR, I shall say good-bye. And at the end of FIVE, I shall go!'", 'She had got all the pegs put in by this time, and Alice looked on with great interest as she returned to the tree, and then began slowly walking down the row.', "At the two-yard peg she faced round, and said, 'A pawn goes two squares in its first move, you know. So you'll go VERY quickly through the Third Square—by railway, I should think—and you'll find yourself in the Fourth Square in no time. Well, THAT square belongs to Tweedledum and Tweedledee—the Fifth is mostly water—the Sixth belongs to Humpty Dumpty—But you make no remark?'", "'I—I didn't know I had to make one—just then,' Alice faltered out.", '\'You SHOULD have said, "It\'s extremely kind of you to tell me all this"—however, we\'ll suppose it said—the Seventh Square is all forest—however, one of the Knights will show you the way—and in the Eighth Square we shall be Queens together, and it\'s all feasting and fun!\' Alice got up and curtseyed, and sat down again.', "At the next peg the Queen turned again, and this time she said, 'Speak in French when you can't think of the English for a thing—turn out your toes as you walk—and remember who you are!' She did not wait for Alice to curtsey this time, but walked on quickly to the next peg, where she turned for a moment to say 'good-bye,' and then hurried on to the last.", "How it happened, Alice never knew, but exactly as she came to the last peg, she was gone. Whether she vanished into the air, or whether she ran quickly into the wood ('and she CAN run very fast!' thought Alice), there was no way of guessing, but she was gone, and Alice began to remember that she was a Pawn, and that it would soon be time for her to move. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn132.txt b/text/sn132.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..190f6355ee77833b79ce586b6b8c34d303ae5b54 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn132.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Alice meets some very unusual insects and suddenly finds herself on a strange train journey without a ticket. If you have wondered about what a bread and butter fly looks like, or what a horse fly sounds like, listen on. By the way, this chapter ends rather suddenly. Read by Natasha. Duration 23.', "Of course the first thing to do was to make a grand survey of the country she was going to travel through. 'It's something very like learning geography,' thought Alice, as she stood on tiptoe in hopes of being able to see a little further. 'Principal rivers—there ARE none. Principal mountains—I'm on the only one, but I don't think it's got any name. Principal towns—why, what ARE those creatures, making honey down there? They can't be bees—nobody ever saw bees a mile off, you know—' and for some time she stood silent, watching one of them that was bustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them, 'just as if it was a regular bee,' thought Alice.", 'However, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an elephant—as Alice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breath away at first. \'And what enormous flowers they must be!\' was her next idea. \'Something like cottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks put to them—and what quantities of honey they must make! I think I\'ll go down and—no, I won\'t JUST yet,\' she went on, checking herself just as she was beginning to run down the hill, and trying to find some excuse for turning shy so suddenly. \'It\'ll never do to go down among them without a good long branch to brush them away—and what fun it\'ll be when they ask me how I like my walk. I shall say—"Oh, I like it well enough—"\' (here came the favourite little toss of the head), \'"only it was so dusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!"\'', "'I think I'll go down the other way,' she said after a pause: 'and perhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to get into the Third Square!'", 'So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of the six little brooks. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *', "'Tickets, please!' said the Guard, putting his head in at the window. In a moment everybody was holding out a ticket: they were about the same size as the people, and quite seemed to fill the carriage.", "'Now then! Show your ticket, child!' the Guard went on, looking angrily at Alice. And a great many voices all said together ('like the chorus of a song,' thought Alice), 'Don't keep him waiting, child! Why, his time is worth a thousand pounds a minute!'", "'I'm afraid I haven't got one,' Alice said in a frightened tone: 'there wasn't a ticket-office where I came from.' And again the chorus of voices went on. 'There wasn't room for one where she came from. The land there is worth a thousand pounds an inch!'", "'Don't make excuses,' said the Guard: 'you should have bought one from the engine-driver.' And once more the chorus of voices went on with 'The man that drives the engine. Why, the smoke alone is worth a thousand pounds a puff!'", "Alice thought to herself, 'Then there's no use in speaking.' The voices didn't join in this time, as she hadn't spoken, but to her great surprise, they all THOUGHT in chorus (I hope you understand what THINKING IN CHORUS means—for I must confess that I don't), 'Better say nothing at all. Language is worth a thousand pounds a word!'", "'I shall dream about a thousand pounds tonight, I know I shall!' thought Alice.", "All this time the Guard was looking at her, first through a telescope, then through a microscope, and then through an opera-glass. At last he said, 'You're travelling the wrong way,' and shut up the window and went away.", "'So young a child,' said the gentleman sitting opposite to her (he was dressed in white paper), 'ought to know which way she's going, even if she doesn't know her own name!'", "A Goat, that was sitting next to the gentleman in white, shut his eyes and said in a loud voice, 'She ought to know her way to the ticket-office, even if she doesn't know her alphabet!'", "There was a Beetle sitting next to the Goat (it was a very queer carriage-full of passengers altogether), and, as the rule seemed to be that they should all speak in turn, HE went on with 'She'll have to go back from here as luggage!'", "Alice couldn't see who was sitting beyond the Beetle, but a hoarse voice spoke next. 'Change engines—' it said, and was obliged to leave off.", '\'It sounds like a horse,\' Alice thought to herself. And an extremely small voice, close to her ear, said, \'You might make a joke on that—something about "horse" and "hoarse," you know.\' Then a very gentle voice in the distance said, \'She must be labelled "Lass, with care," you know—\'', "And after that other voices went on ('What a number of people there are in the carriage!' thought Alice), saying, 'She must go by post, as she's got a head on her—' 'She must be sent as a message by the telegraph—' 'She must draw the train herself the rest of the way—' and so on.", "But the gentleman dressed in white paper leaned forwards and whispered in her ear, 'Never mind what they all say, my dear, but take a return-ticket every time the train stops.'", "'Indeed I shan't!' Alice said rather impatiently. 'I don't belong to this railway journey at all—I was in a wood just now—and I wish I could get back there.'", '\'You might make a joke on THAT,\' said the little voice close to her ear: \'something about "you WOULD if you could," you know.\'', "'Don't tease so,' said Alice, looking about in vain to see where the voice came from; 'if you're so anxious to have a joke made, why don't you make one yourself?'", "The little voice sighed deeply: it was VERY unhappy, evidently, and Alice would have said something pitying to comfort it, 'If it would only sigh like other people!' she thought. But this was such a wonderfully small sigh, that she wouldn't have heard it at all, if it hadn't come QUITE close to her ear. The consequence of this was that it tickled her ear very much, and quite took off her thoughts from the unhappiness of the poor little creature.", "'I know you are a friend,' the little voice went on; 'a dear friend, and an old friend. And you won't hurt me, though I AM an insect.'", "'What kind of insect?' Alice inquired a little anxiously. What she really wanted to know was, whether it could sting or not, but she thought this wouldn't be quite a civil question to ask.", "'What, then you don't—' the little voice began, when it was drowned by a shrill scream from the engine, and everybody jumped up in alarm, Alice among the rest.", "The Horse, who had put his head out of the window, quietly drew it in and said, 'It's only a brook we have to jump over.' Everybody seemed satisfied with this, though Alice felt a little nervous at the idea of trains jumping at all. 'However, it'll take us into the Fourth Square, that's some comfort!' she said to herself. In another moment she felt the carriage rise straight up into the air, and in her fright she caught at the thing nearest to her hand, which happened to be the Goat's beard.", '* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * But the beard seemed to melt away as she touched it, and she found herself sitting quietly under a tree—while the Gnat (for that was the insect she had been talking to) was balancing itself on a twig just over her head, and fanning her with its wings.', "It certainly was a VERY large Gnat: 'about the size of a chicken,' Alice thought. Still, she couldn't feel nervous with it, after they had been talking together so long.", "'—then you don't like all insects?' the Gnat went on, as quietly as if nothing had happened.", "'I like them when they can talk,' Alice said. 'None of them ever talk, where I come from.'", "'What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where YOU come from?' the Gnat inquired.", "'I don't REJOICE in insects at all,' Alice explained, 'because I'm rather afraid of them—at least the large kinds. But I can tell you the names of some of them.'", "'Of course they answer to their names?' the Gnat remarked carelessly.", "'I never knew them do it.'", "'What's the use of their having names,' the Gnat said, 'if they won't answer to them?'", "'No use to THEM,' said Alice; 'but it's useful to the people who name them, I suppose. If not, why do things have names at all?'", "'I can't say,' the Gnat replied. 'Further on, in the wood down there, they've got no names—however, go on with your list of insects: you're wasting time.'", "'Well, there's the Horse-fly,' Alice began, counting off the names on her fingers.", "'All right,' said the Gnat: 'half way up that bush, you'll see a Rocking-horse-fly, if you look. It's made entirely of wood, and gets about by swinging itself from branch to branch.'", "'What does it live on?' Alice asked, with great curiosity.", "'Sap and sawdust,' said the Gnat. 'Go on with the list.'", 'Alice looked up at the Rocking-horse-fly with great interest, and made up her mind that it must have been just repainted, it looked so bright and sticky; and then she went on.', "'And there's the Dragon-fly.'", "'Look on the branch above your head,' said the Gnat, 'and there you'll find a snap-dragon-fly. Its body is made of plum-pudding, its wings of holly-leaves, and its head is a raisin burning in brandy.'", "'And what does it live on?'", "'Frumenty and mince pie,' the Gnat replied; 'and it makes its nest in a Christmas box.'", "'And then there's the Butterfly,' Alice went on, after she had taken a good look at the insect with its head on fire, and had thought to herself, 'I wonder if that's the reason insects are so fond of flying into candles—because they want to turn into Snap-dragon-flies!'", "'Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), 'you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.'", "'And what does IT live on?'", "'Weak tea with cream in it.'", "A new difficulty came into Alice's head. 'Supposing it couldn't find any?' she suggested.", "'Then it would die, of course.'", "'But that must happen very often,' Alice remarked thoughtfully.", "'It always happens,' said the Gnat.", "After this, Alice was silent for a minute or two, pondering. The Gnat amused itself meanwhile by humming round and round her head: at last it settled again and remarked, 'I suppose you don't want to lose your name?'", "'No, indeed,' Alice said, a little anxiously.", '\'And yet I don\'t know,\' the Gnat went on in a careless tone: \'only think how convenient it would be if you could manage to go home without it! For instance, if the governess wanted to call you to your lessons, she would call out "come here—," and there she would have to leave off, because there wouldn\'t be any name for her to call, and of course you wouldn\'t have to go, you know.\' \'That would never do, I\'m sure,\' said Alice: \'the governess would never think of excusing me lessons for that. If she couldn\'t remember my name, she\'d call me "Miss!" as the servants do.\' \'Well, if she said "Miss," and didn\'t say anything more,\' the Gnat remarked, \'of course you\'d miss your lessons. That\'s a joke. I wish YOU had made it.\'', "'Why do you wish I had made it?' Alice asked. 'It's a very bad one.'", 'But the Gnat only sighed deeply, while two large tears came rolling down its cheeks.', "'You shouldn't make jokes,' Alice said, 'if it makes you so unhappy.'", 'Then came another of those melancholy little sighs, and this time the poor Gnat really seemed to have sighed itself away, for, when Alice looked up, there was nothing whatever to be seen on the twig, and, as she was getting quite chilly with sitting still so long, she got up and walked on.', "She very soon came to an open field, with a wood on the other side of it: it looked much darker than the last wood, and Alice felt a LITTLE timid about going into it. However, on second thoughts, she made up her mind to go on: 'for I certainly won't go BACK,' she thought to herself, and this was the only way to the Eighth Square.", '\'This must be the wood,\' she said thoughtfully to herself, \'where things have no names. I wonder what\'ll become of MY name when I go in? I shouldn\'t like to lose it at all—because they\'d have to give me another, and it would be almost certain to be an ugly one. But then the fun would be trying to find the creature that had got my old name! That\'s just like the advertisements, you know, when people lose dogs—"ANSWERS TO THE NAME OF \'DASH:\' HAD ON A BRASS COLLAR"—just fancy calling everything you met "Alice," till one of them answered! Only they wouldn\'t answer at all, if they were wise.\'', "She was rambling on in this way when she reached the wood: it looked very cool and shady. 'Well, at any rate it's a great comfort,' she said as she stepped under the trees, 'after being so hot, to get into the—into WHAT?' she went on, rather surprised at not being able to think of the word. 'I mean to get under the—under the—under THIS, you know!' putting her hand on the trunk of the tree. 'What DOES it call itself, I wonder? I do believe it's got no name—why, to be sure it hasn't!'", "She stood silent for a minute, thinking: then she suddenly began again. 'Then it really HAS happened, after all! And now, who am I? I WILL remember, if I can! I'm determined to do it!' But being determined didn't help much, and all she could say, after a great deal of puzzling, was, 'L, I KNOW it begins with L!'", "Just then a Fawn came wandering by: it looked at Alice with its large gentle eyes, but didn't seem at all frightened. 'Here then! Here then!' Alice said, as she held out her hand and tried to stroke it; but it only started back a little, and then stood looking at her again.", "'What do you call yourself?' the Fawn said at last. Such a soft sweet voice it had!", "'I wish I knew!' thought poor Alice. She answered, rather sadly, 'Nothing, just now.'", "'Think again,' it said: 'that won't do.'", "Alice thought, but nothing came of it. 'Please, would you tell me what YOU call yourself?' she said timidly. 'I think that might help a little.'", "'I'll tell you, if you'll move a little further on,' the Fawn said. 'I can't remember here.'", "So they walked on together though the wood, Alice with her arms clasped lovingly round the soft neck of the Fawn, till they came out into another open field, and here the Fawn gave a sudden bound into the air, and shook itself free from Alice's arms. 'I'm a Fawn!' it cried out in a voice of delight, 'and, dear me! you're a human child!' A sudden look of alarm came into its beautiful brown eyes, and in another moment it had darted away at full speed.", "Alice stood looking after it, almost ready to cry with vexation at having lost her dear little fellow-traveller so suddenly. 'However, I know my name now.' she said, 'that's SOME comfort. Alice—Alice—I won't forget it again. And now, which of these finger-posts ought I to follow, I wonder?'", "It was not a very difficult question to answer, as there was only one road through the wood, and the two finger-posts both pointed along it. 'I'll settle it,' Alice said to herself, 'when the road divides and they point different ways.'", "But this did not seem likely to happen. She went on and on, a long way, but wherever the road divided there were sure to be two finger-posts pointing the same way, one marked 'TO TWEEDLEDUM'S HOUSE' and the other 'TO THE HOUSE OF TWEEDLEDEE.'", '\'I do believe,\' said Alice at last, \'that they live in the same house! I wonder I never thought of that before—But I can\'t stay there long. I\'ll just call and say "how d\'you do?" and ask them the way out of the wood. If I could only get to the Eighth Square before it gets dark!\' So she wandered on, talking to herself as she went, till, on turning a sharp corner, she came upon two fat little men, so suddenly that she could not help starting back, but in another moment she recovered herself, feeling sure that they must be. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn133.txt b/text/sn133.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a3a87b116c021dbe167921f602e495018430da92 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn133.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha HIGH above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt. He was very much admired indeed. ‘He is as beautiful as a weathercock,’ remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; ‘only not quite so useful,’ he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not. ‘Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?’ asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. ‘The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.’ ‘I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,’ muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue. ‘He looks just like an angel,’ said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores. ‘How do you know?’ said the Mathematical Master, ‘you have never seen one.’ ‘Ah! but we have, in our dreams,’ answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming. One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her. ‘Shall I love you?’ said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer. ‘It is a ridiculous attachment,’ twittered the other Swallows, ‘she has no money, and far too many relations;’ and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away. After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. ‘She has no conversation,’ he said, ‘and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.’ And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies. ‘I admit that she is domestic,’ he continued, ‘but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.’ ‘Will you come away with me?’ he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home. ‘You have been trifling with me,’ he cried, ‘I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!’ and he flew away. All day long he flew, and at night time he arrived at the city. ‘Where shall I put up?’ he said; ‘I hope the town has made preparations.’ Then he saw the statue on the tall column. ‘I will put up there,’ he cried; ‘it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.’ So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince. ‘I have a golden bedroom,’ he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. ‘What a curious thing!’ he cried, ‘there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.’ Then another drop fell. ‘What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?’ he said; ‘I must look for a good chimney-pot,’ and he determined to fly away. But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw - Ah! what did he see? The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity. ‘Who are you?’ he said. ‘I am the Happy Prince.’ ‘Why are you weeping then?’ asked the Swallow; ‘you have quite drenched me.’ ‘When I was alive and had a human heart,’ answered the statue, ‘I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.’ ‘What, is he not solid gold?’ said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud. ‘Far away,’ continued the statue in a low musical voice, ‘far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.’ ‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ said the Swallow. ‘My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.’ ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.’ ‘I don’t think I like boys,’ answered the Swallow. ‘Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.’ But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. ‘It is very cold here,’ he said; ‘but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.’ ‘Thank you, little Swallow,’ said the Prince. So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town. He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. ‘How wonderful the stars are,’ he said to her, and how wonderful is the power of love!’ ‘I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State ball,’ she answered; ‘I have ordered passion flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.’ At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. ‘How cool I feel,’ said the boy, ‘I must be getting better;’ and he sank into a delicious slumber. Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. ‘It is curious,’ he remarked, ‘but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.’ ‘That is because you have done a good action,’ said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy. When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. ‘What a remarkable phenomenon,’ said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. ‘A swallow in winter!’ And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand. ‘Tonight I go to Egypt,’ said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, ‘What a distinguished stranger!’ so he enjoyed himself very much. When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. ‘Have you any commissions for Egypt?’ he cried; ‘I am just starting.’ ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’ ‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ answered the Swallow. ‘Tomorrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the god Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.’ ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the prince, ‘far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.’ ‘I will wait with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. ‘Shall I take him another ruby?’ ‘Alas! I have no ruby now,’ said the Prince; ‘my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.’ ‘Dear Prince,’ said the Swallow, ‘I cannot do that;’ and he began to weep. ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’ So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets. ‘I am beginning to be appreciated,’ he cried; ‘this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,’ and he looked quite happy. The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. ‘Heave a-hoy!’ they shouted as each chest came up. ‘I am going to Egypt!’ cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. ‘I am come to bid you good-bye,’ he cried. ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’ ‘It is winter,’ answered the Swallow, ‘and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.’ ‘In the square below,’ said the Happy Prince, ‘there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.’ ‘I will stay with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, ‘but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.’ ‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’ So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. ‘What a lovely bit of glass,’ cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing. Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. ‘You are blind now,’ he said, ‘so I will stay with you always.’ ‘No, little Swallow,’ said the poor Prince, ‘you must go away to Egypt.’ ‘I will stay with you always,’ said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet. All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies. ‘Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.’ So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. ‘How hungry we are!’ they said. ‘You must not lie here,’ shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain. Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen. ‘I am covered with fine gold,’ said the Prince, ‘you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.’ Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. ‘We have bread now!’ they cried. Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice. The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door where the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings. But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. ‘Good-bye, dear Prince!’ he murmured, ‘will you let me kiss your hand?’ ‘I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.’ ‘It is not to Egypt that I am going,’ said the Swallow. ‘I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?’ And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet. At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: ‘Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!’ he said. ‘How shabby indeed!’ cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it. ‘The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,’ said the Mayor; ‘in fact, he is little better than a beggar!’ ‘Little better than a beggar’ said the Town councillors. ‘And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!’ continued the Mayor. ‘We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.’ And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion. So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. ‘As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,’ said the Art Professor at the University. Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. ‘We must have another statue, of course,’ he said, ‘and it shall be a statue of myself.’ ‘Of myself,’ said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still. ‘What a strange thing!’ said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. ‘This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.’ So they threw it on a dust heap where the dead Swallow was also lying. ‘Bring me the two most precious things in the city,’ said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird. ‘You have rightly chosen,’ said God, ‘for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.’ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn134.txt b/text/sn134.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ce589c2b7b3ea986e67174186962d357bde8111d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn134.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 14.12. Text by Oscar Wilde. 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. 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. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn135.txt b/text/sn135.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..83fff00034aabd63efddeba93a22885b7d21065d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn135.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +(We have slightly adapted the story at the end to fit in with modern mores). Read by Natasha HOW THE LEOPARD GOT HIS SPOTS', "IN the days when everybody started fair, Best Beloved, the Leopard lived in a place called the High Veldt. 'Member it wasn't the Low Veldt, or the Bush Veldt, or the Sour Veldt, but the 'sclusively bare, hot, shiny High Veldt, where there was sand and sandy-coloured rock and 'sclusively tufts of sandy-yellowish grass. The Giraffe and the Zebra and the Eland and the Koodoo and the Hartebeest lived there; and they were 'sclusively sandy-yellow-brownish all over; but the Leopard, he was the 'sclusivest sandiest-yellowish-brownest of them all—a greyish-yellowish catty-shaped kind of beast, and he matched the 'sclusively yellowish-greyish-brownish colour of the High Veldt to one hair. This was very bad for the Giraffe and the Zebra and the rest of them; for he would lie down by a 'sclusively yellowish-greyish-brownish stone or clump of grass, and when the Giraffe or the Zebra or the Eland or the Koodoo or the Bush-Buck or the Bonte-Buck came by he would surprise them out of their jumpsome lives. He would indeed! And, also, there was an Ethiopian with bows and arrows (a 'sclusively greyish-brownish-yellowish man he was then), who lived on the High Veldt with the Leopard; and the two used to hunt together—the Ethiopian with his bows and arrows, and the Leopard 'sclusively with his teeth and claws—till the Giraffe and the Eland and the Koodoo and the Quagga and all the rest of them didn't know which way to jump, Best Beloved. They didn't indeed!", "After a long time—things lived for ever so long in those days—they learned to avoid anything that looked like a Leopard or an Ethiopian; and bit by bit—the Giraffe began it, because his legs were the longest—they went away from the High Veldt. They scuttled for days and days and days till they came to a great forest, 'sclusively full of trees and bushes and stripy, speckly, patchy-blatchy shadows, and there they hid: and after another long time, what with standing half in the shade and half out of it, and what with the slippery-slidy shadows of the trees falling on them, the Giraffe grew blotchy, and the Zebra grew stripy, and the Eland and the Koodoo grew darker, with little wavy grey lines on their backs like bark on a tree trunk; and so, though you could hear them and smell them, you could very seldom see them, and then only when you knew precisely where to look. They had a beautiful time in the 'sclusively speckly-spickly shadows of the forest, while the Leopard and the Ethiopian ran about over the 'sclusively greyish-yellowish-reddish High Veldt outside, wondering where all their breakfasts and their dinners and their teas had gone. At last they were so hungry that they ate rats and beetles and rock-rabbits, the Leopard and the Ethiopian, and then they had the Big Tummy-ache, both together; and then they met Baviaan—the dog-headed, barking Baboon, who is Quite the Wisest Animal in All South Africa.", "Said Leopard to Baviaan (and it was a very hot day), 'Where has all the game gone?'", 'And Baviaan winked. He knew.', "Said the Ethiopian to Baviaan, 'Can you tell me the present habitat of the aboriginal Fauna?' (That meant just the same thing, but the Ethiopian always used long words. He was a grown-up.)", 'And Baviaan winked. He knew.', "Then said Baviaan, 'The game has gone into other spots; and my advice to you, Leopard, is to go into other spots as soon as you can.'", "And the Ethiopian said, 'That is all very fine, but I wish to know whither the aboriginal Fauna has migrated.'", "Then said Baviaan, 'The aboriginal Fauna has joined the aboriginal Flora because it was high time for a change; and my advice to you, Ethiopian, is to change as soon as you can.'", "That puzzled the Leopard and the Ethiopian, but they set off to look for the aboriginal Flora, and presently, after ever so many days, they saw a great, high, tall forest full of tree trunks all 'sclusively speckled and sprottled and spottled, dotted and splashed and slashed and hatched and cross-hatched with shadows. (Say that quickly aloud, and you will see how very shadowy the forest must have been.)", "'What is this,' said the Leopard, 'that is so 'sclusively dark, and yet so full of little pieces of light?'", "'I don't know, said the Ethiopian, 'but it ought to be the aboriginal Flora. I can smell Giraffe, and I can hear Giraffe, but I can't see Giraffe.'", "'That's curious,' said the Leopard. 'I suppose it is because we have just come in out of the sunshine. I can smell Zebra, and I can hear Zebra, but I can't see Zebra.'", "'Wait a bit, said the Ethiopian. 'It's a long time since we've hunted 'em. Perhaps we've forgotten what they were like.'", "'Fiddle!' said the Leopard. 'I remember them perfectly on the High Veldt, especially their marrow-bones. Giraffe is about seventeen feet high, of a 'sclusively fulvous golden-yellow from head to heel; and Zebra is about four and a half feet high, of a'sclusively grey-fawn colour from head to heel.'", "'Umm, said the Ethiopian, looking into the speckly-spickly shadows of the aboriginal Flora-forest. 'Then they ought to show up in this dark place like ripe bananas in a smokehouse.'", "But they didn't. The Leopard and the Ethiopian hunted all day; and though they could smell them and hear them, they never saw one of them.", "'For goodness' sake,' said the Leopard at tea-time, 'let us wait till it gets dark. This daylight hunting is a perfect scandal.'", "So they waited till dark, and then the Leopard heard something breathing sniffily in the starlight that fell all stripy through the branches, and he jumped at the noise, and it smelt like Zebra, and it felt like Zebra, and when he knocked it down it kicked like Zebra, but he couldn't see it. So he said, 'Be quiet, O you person without any form. I am going to sit on your head till morning, because there is something about you that I don't understand.'", "Presently he heard a grunt and a crash and a scramble, and the Ethiopian called out, 'I've caught a thing that I can't see. It smells like Giraffe, and it kicks like Giraffe, but it hasn't any form.'", "'Don't you trust it,' said the Leopard. 'Sit on its head till the morning—same as me. They haven't any form—any of 'em.'", "So they sat down on them hard till bright morning-time, and then Leopard said, 'What have you at your end of the table, Brother?'", "The Ethiopian scratched his head and said, 'It ought to be 'sclusively a rich fulvous orange-tawny from head to heel, and it ought to be Giraffe; but it is covered all over with chestnut blotches. What have you at your end of the table, Brother?'", "And the Leopard scratched his head and said, 'It ought to be 'sclusively a delicate greyish-fawn, and it ought to be Zebra; but it is covered all over with black and purple stripes. What in the world have you been doing to yourself, Zebra? Don't you know that if you were on the High Veldt I could see you ten miles off? You haven't any form.'", "'Yes,' said the Zebra, 'but this isn't the High Veldt. Can't you see?'", "'I can now,' said the Leopard. 'But I couldn't all yesterday. How is it done?'", "'Let us up,' said the Zebra, 'and we will show you.", 'They let the Zebra and the Giraffe get up; and Zebra moved away to some little thorn-bushes where the sunlight fell all stripy, and Giraffe moved off to some tallish trees where the shadows fell all blotchy.', "'Now watch,' said the Zebra and the Giraffe. 'This is the way it's done. One—two—three! And where's your breakfast?'", 'Leopard stared, and Ethiopian stared, but all they could see were stripy shadows and blotched shadows in the forest, but never a sign of Zebra and Giraffe. They had just walked off and hidden themselves in the shadowy forest.', "'Hi! Hi!' said the Ethiopian. 'That's a trick worth learning. Take a lesson by it, Leopard. You show up in this dark place like a bar of soap in a coal-scuttle.'", "'Ho! Ho!' said the Leopard. 'Would it surprise you very much to know that you show up in this dark place like a mustard-plaster on a sack of coals?'", "'Well, calling names won't catch dinner, said the Ethiopian. 'The long and the little of it is that we don't match our backgrounds. I'm going to take Baviaan's advice. He told me I ought to change; and as I've nothing to change except my skin I'm going to change that.'", "'What to?' said the Leopard, tremendously excited.", "'To a nice working blackish-brownish colour, with a little purple in it, and touches of slaty-blue. It will be the very thing for hiding in hollows and behind trees.'", 'So he changed his skin then and there, and the Leopard was more excited than ever; he had never seen a man change his skin before.', "'But what about me?' he said, when the Ethiopian had worked his last little finger into his fine new black skin.", "'You take Baviaan's advice too. He told you to go into spots.'", "'So I did,' said the Leopard. I went into other spots as fast as I could. I went into this spot with you, and a lot of good it has done me.'", "'Oh,' said the Ethiopian, 'Baviaan didn't mean spots in South Africa. He meant spots on your skin.'", "'What's the use of that?' said the Leopard.", "'Think of Giraffe,' said the Ethiopian. 'Or if you prefer stripes, think of Zebra. They find their spots and stripes give them per-feet satisfaction.'", "'Umm,' said the Leopard. 'I wouldn't look like Zebra—not for ever so.'", "'Well, make up your mind,' said the Ethiopian, 'because I'd hate to go hunting without you, but I must if you insist on looking like a sun-flower against a tarred fence.'", "'I'll take spots, then,' said the Leopard; 'but don't make 'em too vulgar-big. I wouldn't look like Giraffe—not for ever so.'", "'I'll make 'em with the tips of my fingers,' said the Ethiopian. 'There's plenty of black left on my skin still. Stand over!'", "Then the Ethiopian put his five fingers close together (there was plenty of black left on his new skin still) and pressed them all over the Leopard, and wherever the five fingers touched they left five little black marks, all close together. You can see them on any Leopard's skin you like, Best Beloved. Sometimes the fingers slipped and the marks got a little blurred; but if you look closely at any Leopard now you will see that there are always five spots—off five fat black finger-tips.", "'Now you are a beauty!' said the Ethiopian. 'You can lie out on the bare ground and look like a heap of pebbles. You can lie out on the naked rocks and look like a piece of pudding-stone. You can lie out on a leafy branch and look like sunshine sifting through the leaves; and you can lie right across the centre of a path and look like nothing in particular. Think of that and purr!'", 'So they went away and lived happily ever afterward, Best Beloved. That is all.', "Oh, now and then you will hear grown-ups say, 'Can the Ethiopian change his skin or the Leopard his spots?' I don't think even grown-ups would keep on saying such a silly thing if the Leopard and the Ethiopian hadn't done it once—do you? But they will never do it again, Best Beloved. They are quite contented as they are. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn136.txt b/text/sn136.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d777a9725344966d38abe45c0da328e99aaf46ee --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn136.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Why does the tide come in and out? Scientists might tell you it has something to do with the laws of gravity and the orbit of the moon. Of course it is true that there is a Fisher of the Moon who pulls in and lets out tide. But at the very beginning, there was a crab who played with the sea and made it Just So... Read by Natasha. Written by Rudyard Kipling. THE CRAB THAT PLAYED WITH THE SEA', "BEFORE the High and Far-Off Times, O my Best Beloved, came the Time of the Very Beginnings; and that was in the days when the Eldest Magician was getting Things ready. First he got the Earth ready; then he got the Sea ready; and then he told all the Animals that they could come out and play. And the Animals said, 'O Eldest Magician, what shall we play at?' and he said, 'I will show you. He took the Elephant—All-the-Elephant-there-was—and said, 'Play at being an Elephant,' and All-the-Elephant-there-was played. He took the Beaver—All-the-Beaver-there-was and said, 'Play at being a Beaver,' and All-the Beaver-there-was played. He took the Cow—All-the Cow-there-was—and said, 'Play at being a Cow,' and All-the-Cow-there-was played. He took the Turtle—All-the-Turtle there-was and said, 'Play at being a Turtle,' and All-the-Turtle-there-was played. One by one he took all the beasts and birds and fishes and told them what to play at.", "But towards evening, when people and things grow restless and tired, there came up the Man (With his own little girl-daughter?)—Yes, with his own best beloved little girl-daughter sitting upon his shoulder, and he said, 'What is this play, Eldest Magician?' And the Eldest Magician said, 'Ho, Son of Adam, this is the play of the Very Beginning; but you are too wise for this play.' And the Man saluted and said, 'Yes, I am too wise for this play; but see that you make all the Animals obedient to me.'", "Now, while the two were talking together, Pau Amma the Crab, who was next in the game, scuttled off sideways and stepped into the sea, saying to himself, 'I will play my play alone in the deep waters, and I will never be obedient to this son of Adam.' Nobody saw him go away except the little girl-daughter where she leaned on the Man's shoulder. And the play went on till there were no more Animals left without orders; and the Eldest Magician wiped the fine dust off his hands and walked about the world to see how the Animals were playing.", 'He went North, Best Beloved, and he found All-the-Elephant-there-was digging with his tusks and stamping with his feet in the nice new clean earth that had been made ready for him.', "'Kun?' said All-the-Elephant-there-was, meaning, 'Is this right?'", "'Payah kun,' said the Eldest Magician, meaning, 'That is quite right'; and he breathed upon the great rocks and lumps of earth that All-the-Elephant-there-was had thrown up, and they became the great Himalayan Mountains, and you can look them out on the map.", 'He went East, and he found All-the-Cow there-was feeding in the field that had been made ready for her, and she licked her tongue round a whole forest at a time, and swallowed it and sat down to chew her cud.', "'Kun?' said All-the-Cow-there-was.", "'Payah kun,' said the Eldest Magician; and he breathed upon the bare patch where she had eaten, and upon the place where she had sat down, and one became the great Indian Desert, and the other became the Desert of Sahara, and you can look them out on the map.", 'He went West, and he found All-the-Beaver-there-was making a beaver-dam across the mouths of broad rivers that had been got ready for him.', "'Kun?' said All-the-Beaver-there-was.", "'Payah kun,' said the Eldest Magician; and he breathed upon the fallen trees and the still water, and they became the Everglades in Florida, and you may look them out on the map.", 'Then he went South and found All-the-Turtle-there-was scratching with his flippers in the sand that had been got ready for him, and the sand and the rocks whirled through the air and fell far off into the sea.', "'Kun?' said All-the-Turtle-there-was.", "'Payah kun,' said the Eldest Magician; and he breathed upon the sand and the rocks, where they had fallen in the sea, and they became the most beautiful islands of Borneo, Celebes, Sumatra, Java, and the rest of the Malay Archipelago, and you can look them out on the map!", "By and by the Eldest Magician met the Man on the banks of the Perak river, and said, 'Ho! Son of Adam, are all the Animals obedient to you?'", "'Yes,' said the Man.", "'Is all the Earth obedient to you?'", "'Yes,' said the Man.", "'Is all the Sea obedient to you?'", "'No,' said the Man. 'Once a day and once a night the Sea runs up the Perak river and drives the sweet-water back into the forest, so that my house is made wet; once a day and once a night it runs down the river and draws all the water after it, so that there is nothing left but mud, and my canoe is upset. Is that the play you told it to play?'", "'No,' said the Eldest Magician. 'That is a new and a bad play.'", "'Look!' said the Man, and as he spoke the great Sea came up the mouth of the Perak river, driving the river backwards till it overflowed all the dark forests for miles and miles, and flooded the Man's house.", "'This is wrong. Launch your canoe and we will find out who is playing with the Sea,' said the Eldest Magician. They stepped into the canoe; the little girl-daughter came with them; and the Man took his kris—a curving, wavy dagger with a blade like a flame,—and they pushed out on the Perak river. Then the sea began to run back and back, and the canoe was sucked out of the mouth of the Perak river, past Selangor, past Malacca, past Singapore, out and out to the Island of Bingtang, as though it had been pulled by a string.", "Then the Eldest Magician stood up and shouted, 'Ho! beasts, birds, and fishes, that I took between my hands at the Very Beginning and taught the play that you should play, which one of you is playing with the Sea?'", "Then all the beasts, birds, and fishes said together, 'Eldest Magician, we play the plays that you taught us to play—we and our children's children. But not one of us plays with the Sea.'", "Then the Moon rose big and full over the water, and the Eldest Magician said to the hunchbacked old man who sits in the Moon spinning a fishing-line with which he hopes one day to catch the world, 'Ho! Fisher of the Moon, are you playing with the Sea?'", "'No,' said the Fisherman, 'I am spinning a line with which I shall some day catch the world; but I do not play with the Sea.' And he went on spinning his line.", "Now there is also a Rat up in the Moon who always bites the old Fisherman's line as fast as it is made, and the Eldest Magician said to him, 'Ho! Rat of the Moon, are you playing with the Sea?'", "And the Rat said, 'I am too busy biting through the line that this old Fisherman is spinning. I do not play with the Sea.' And he went on biting the line.", "Then the little girl-daughter put up her little soft brown arms with the beautiful white shell bracelets and said, 'O Eldest Magician! when my father here talked to you at the Very Beginning, and I leaned upon his shoulder while the beasts were being taught their plays, one beast went away naughtily into the Sea before you had taught him his play.", "And the Eldest Magician said, 'How wise are little children who see and are silent! What was the beast like?'", "And the little girl-daughter said, 'He was round and he was flat; and his eyes grew upon stalks; and he walked sideways like this; and he was covered with strong armour upon his back.'", "And the Eldest Magician said, 'How wise are little children who speak truth! Now I know where Pau Amma went. Give me the paddle!'", 'So he took the paddle; but there was no need to paddle, for the water flowed steadily past all the islands till they came to the place called Pusat Tasek—the Heart of the Sea—where the great hollow is that leads down to the heart of the world, and in that hollow grows the Wonderful Tree, Pauh Janggi, that bears the magic twin nuts. Then the Eldest Magician slid his arm up to the shoulder through the deep warm water, and under the roots of the Wonderful Tree he touched the broad back of Pau Amma the Crab. And Pau Amma settled down at the touch, and all the Sea rose up as water rises in a basin when you put your hand into it.', "'Ah!' said the Eldest Magician. 'Now I know who has been playing with the Sea;' and he called out, 'What are you doing, Pau Amma?'", "And Pau Amma, deep down below, answered, 'Once a day and once a night I go out to look for my food. Once a day and once a night I return. Leave me alone.'", "Then the Eldest Magician said, 'Listen, Pau Amma. When you go out from your cave the waters of the Sea pour down into Pusat Tasek, and all the beaches of all the islands are left bare, and the little fish die, and Raja Moyang Kaban, the King of the Elephants, his legs are made muddy. When you come back and sit in Pusat Tasek, the waters of the Sea rise, and half the little islands are drowned, and the Man's house is flooded, and Raja Abdullah, the King of the Crocodiles, his mouth is filled with the salt water.", "Then Pau Amma, deep down below, laughed and said, 'I did not know I was so important. Henceforward I will go out seven times a day, and the waters shall never be still.'", "And the Eldest Magician said, 'I cannot make you play the play you were meant to play, Pau Amma, because you escaped me at the Very Beginning; but if you are not afraid, come up and we will talk about it.'", "'I am not afraid,' said Pau Amma, and he rose to the top of the sea in the moonlight. There was nobody in the world so big as Pau Amma—for he was the King Crab of all Crabs. Not a common Crab, but a King Crab. One side of his great shell touched the beach at Sarawak; the other touched the beach at Pahang; and he was taller than the smoke of three volcanoes! As he rose up through the branches of the Wonderful Tree he tore off one of the great twin fruits—the magic double kernelled nuts that make people young,—and the little girl-daughter saw it bobbing alongside the canoe, and pulled it in and began to pick out the soft eyes of it with her little golden scissors.", "'Now,' said the Magician, 'make a Magic, Pau Amma, to show that you are really important.'", 'Pau Amma rolled his eyes and waved his legs, but he could only stir up the Sea, because, though he was a King Crab, he was nothing more than a Crab, and the Eldest Magician laughed.', "'You are not so important after all, Pau Amma,' he said. 'Now, let me try,' and he made a Magic with his left hand—with just the little finger of his left hand—and—lo and behold, Best Beloved, Pau Amma's hard, blue-green-black shell fell off him as a husk falls off a cocoa-nut, and Pau Amma was left all soft—soft as the little crabs that you sometimes find on the beach, Best Beloved.", "'Indeed, you are very important,' said the Eldest Magician. 'Shall I ask the Man here to cut you with kris? Shall I send for Raja Moyang Kaban, the King of the Elephants, to pierce you with his tusks, or shall I call Raja Abdullah, the King of the Crocodiles, to bite you?'", "And Pau Amma said, 'I am ashamed! Give me back my hard shell and let me go back to Pusat Tasek, and I will only stir out once a day and once a night to get my food.'", "And the Eldest Magician said, 'No, Pau Amma, I will not give you back your shell, for you will grow bigger and prouder and stronger, and perhaps you will forget your promise, and you will play with the Sea once more.", "Then Pau Amma said, 'What shall I do? I am so big that I can only hide in Pusat Tasek, and if I go anywhere else, all soft as I am now, the sharks and the dogfish will eat me. And if I go to Pusat Tasek, all soft as I am now, though I may be safe, I can never stir out to get my food, and so I shall die.' Then he waved his legs and lamented.", "'Listen, Pau Amma,' said the Eldest Magician. 'I cannot make you play the play you were meant to play, because you escaped me at the Very Beginning; but if you choose, I can make every stone and every hole and every bunch of weed in all the seas a safe Pusat Tasek for you and your children for always.'", "Then Pau Amma said, 'That is good, but I do not choose yet. Look! there is that Man who talked to you at the Very Beginning. If he had not taken up your attention I should not have grown tired of waiting and run away, and all this would never have happened. What will he do for me?'", "And the Man said, 'If you choose, I will make a Magic, so that both the deep water and the dry ground will be a home for you and your children—so that you shall be able to hide both on the land and in the sea.'", "And Pau Amma said, 'I do not choose yet. Look! there is that girl who saw me running away at the Very Beginning. If she had spoken then, the Eldest Magician would have called me back, and all this would never have happened. What will she do for me?'", "And the little girl-daughter said, 'This is a good nut that I am eating. If you choose, I will make a Magic and I will give you this pair of scissors, very sharp and strong, so that you and your children can eat cocoa-nuts like this all day long when you come up from the Sea to the land; or you can dig a Pusat Tasek for yourself with the scissors that belong to you when there is no stone or hole near by; and when the earth is too hard, by the help of these same scissors you can run up a tree.'", "And Pau Amma said, 'I do not choose yet, for, all soft as I am, these gifts would not help me. Give me back my shell, O Eldest Magician, and then I will play your play.'", "And the Eldest Magician said, 'I will give it back, Pau Amma, for eleven months of the year; but on the twelfth month of every year it shall grow soft again, to remind you and all your children that I can make magics, and to keep you humble, Pau Amma; for I see that if you can run both under the water and on land, you will grow too bold; and if you can climb trees and crack nuts and dig holes with your scissors, you will grow too greedy, Pau Amma.'", "Then Pau Amma thought a little and said, 'I have made my choice. I will take all the gifts.'", "Then the Eldest Magician made a Magic with the right hand, with all five fingers of his right hand, and lo and behold, Best Beloved, Pau Amma grew smaller and smaller and smaller, till at last there was only a little green crab swimming in the water alongside the canoe, crying in a very small voice, 'Give me the scissors!'", "And the girl-daughter picked him up on the palm of her little brown hand, and sat him in the bottom of the canoe and gave him her scissors, and he waved them in his little arms, and opened them and shut them and snapped them, and said, 'I can eat nuts. I can crack shells. I can dig holes. I can climb trees. I can breathe in the dry air, and I can find a safe Pusat Tasek under every stone. I did not know I was so important. Kun?' (Is this right?)", "'Payah-kun,' said the Eldest Magician, and he laughed and gave him his blessing; and little Pau Amma scuttled over the side of the canoe into the water; and he was so tiny that he could have hidden under the shadow of a dry leaf on land or of a dead shell at the bottom of the sea.", "'Was that well done?' said the Eldest Magician.", "'Yes,' said the Man. 'But now we must go back to Perak, and that is a weary way to paddle. If we had waited till Pau Amma had gone out of Pusat Tasek and come home, the water would have carried us there by itself.'", "'You are lazy,' said the Eldest Magician. 'So your children shall be lazy. They shall be the laziest people in the world. They shall be called the Malazy—the lazy people;' and he held up his finger to the Moon and said, 'O Fisherman, here is the Man too lazy to row home. Pull his canoe home with your line, Fisherman.'", "'No,' said the Man. 'If I am to be lazy all my days, let the Sea work for me twice a day for ever. That will save paddling.'", "And the Eldest Magician laughed and said, 'Payah kun' (That is right).", "And the Rat of the Moon stopped biting the line; and the Fisherman let his line down till it touched the Sea, and he pulled the whole deep Sea along, past the Island of Bintang, past Singapore, past Malacca, past Selangor, till the canoe whirled into the mouth of the Perak River again. Kun?' said the Fisherman of the Moon.", "'Payah kun,' said the Eldest Magician. 'See now that you pull the Sea twice a day and twice a night for ever, so that the Malazy fishermen may be saved paddling. But be careful not to do it too hard, or I shall make a magic on you as I did to Pau Amma.'", 'Then they all went up the Perak River and went to bed, Best Beloved. Now listen and attend! From that day to this the Moon has always pulled the sea up and down and made what we call the tides. Sometimes the Fisher of the Sea pulls a little too hard, and then we get spring tides; and sometimes he pulls a little too softly, and then we get what are called neap-tides; but nearly always he is careful, because of the Eldest Magician.', "And Pau Amma? You can see when you go to the beach, how all Pau Amma's babies make little Pusat Taseks for themselves under every stone and bunch of weed on the sands; you can see them waving their little scissors; and in some parts of the world they truly live on the dry land and run up the palm trees and eat cocoa-nuts, exactly as the girl-daughter promised. But once a year all Pau Ammas must shake off their hard armour and be soft-to remind them of what the Eldest Magician could do. And so it isn't fair to kill or hunt Pau Amma's babies just because old Pau Amma was stupidly rude a very long time ago.", "Oh yes! And Pau Amma's babies hate being taken out of their little Pusat Taseks and brought home in pickle-bottles. That is why they nip you with their scissors, and it serves you right! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn137.txt b/text/sn137.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c59ea7cd0eb87f3dbb9b665e6521855ff0ea940f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn137.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the Audio Dorothy is an orphan who lives with her Aunt and Uncle in the midst of the great Kansas Prairie. The countryside is prone to great winds known as cyclones that are so powerful that sometimes they can pick up an entire farmhouse and whisk it away. Read by Natasha. Duration 9.52. By L.Frank Baum with the illustrations of Denslow first published around 1900.', "Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife. Their house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon many miles. There were four walls, a floor and a roof, which made one room; and this room contained a rusty looking cookstove, a cupboard for the dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. Uncle Henry and Aunt Em had a big bed in one corner, and Dorothy a little bed in another corner. There was no garret at all, and no cellar--except a small hole dug in the ground, called a cyclone cellar, where the family could go in case one of those great whirlwinds arose, mighty enough to crush any building in its path. It was reached by a trap door in the middle of the floor, from which a ladder led down into the small, dark hole.", 'Uncle Henry never laughed. He worked hard from morning till night and did not know what joy was. He was gray also, from his long beard to his rough boots, and he looked stern and solemn, and rarely spoke. It was Toto that made Dorothy laugh, and saved her from growing as gray as her other surroundings. Toto was not gray; he was a little black dog, with long silky hair and small black eyes that twinkled merrily on either side of his funny, wee nose. Toto played all day long, and Dorothy played with him, and loved him dearly. Today, however, they were not playing. Uncle Henry sat upon the doorstep and looked anxiously at the sky, which was even grayer than usual. Dorothy stood in the door with Toto in her arms, and looked at the sky too. Aunt Em was washing the dishes. From the far north they heard a low wail of the wind, and Uncle Henry and Dorothy could see where the long grass bowed in waves before the coming storm. There now came a sharp whistling in the air from the south, and as they turned their eyes that way they saw ripples in the grass coming from that direction also. Suddenly Uncle Henry stood up. "There\'s a cyclone coming, Em," he called to his wife. "I\'ll go look after the stock." Then he ran toward the sheds where the cows and horses were kept. Aunt Em dropped her work and came to the door. One glance told her of the danger close at hand. "Quick, Dorothy!" she screamed. "Run for the cellar!"', "Toto jumped out of Dorothy's arms and hid under the bed, and the girl started to get him. Aunt Em, badly frightened, threw open the trap door in the floor and climbed down the ladder into the small, dark hole. Dorothy caught Toto at last and started to follow her aunt.", 'When she was halfway across the room there came a great shriek from the wind, and the house shook so hard that she lost her footing and sat down suddenly upon the floor. Then a strange thing happened. The house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly through the air. Dorothy felt as if she were going up in a balloon. The north and south winds met where the house stood, and made it the exact center of the cyclone. In the middle of a cyclone the air is generally still, but the great pressure of the wind on every side of the house raised it up higher and higher, until it was at the very top of the cyclone; and there it remained and was carried miles and miles away as easily as you could carry a feather. It was very dark, and the wind howled horribly around her, but Dorothy found she was riding quite easily. After the first few whirls around, and one other time when the house tipped badly, she felt as if she were being rocked gently, like a baby in a cradle. Toto did not like it. He ran about the room, now here, now there, barking loudly; but Dorothy sat quite still on the floor and waited to see what would happen. Once Toto got too near the open trap door, and fell in; and at first the little girl thought she had lost him. But soon she saw one of his ears sticking up through the hole, for the strong pressure of the air was keeping him up so that he could not fall. She crept to the hole, caught Toto by the ear, and dragged him into the room again, afterward closing the trap door so that no more accidents could happen. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn138.txt b/text/sn138.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..3f70cb9e99582fc5fb1044dac7a49fdc142d0003 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn138.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 17.28. Chapter 2. The Council with the Munchkins She was awakened by a shock, so sudden and severe that if Dorothy had not been lying on the soft bed she might have been hurt. As it was, the jar made her catch her breath and wonder what had happened; and Toto put his cold little nose into her face and whined dismally. Dorothy sat up and noticed that the house was not moving; nor was it dark, for the bright sunshine came in at the window, flooding the little room. She sprang from her bed and with Toto at her heels ran and opened the door. "You are welcome, most noble Sorceress, to the land of the Munchkins. We are so grateful to you for having killed the Wicked Witch of the East, and for setting our people free from bondage." Dorothy listened to this speech with wonder. What could the little woman possibly mean by calling her a sorceress, and saying she had killed the Wicked Witch of the East? Dorothy was an innocent, harmless little girl, who had been carried by a cyclone many miles from home; and she had never killed anything in all her life. But the little woman evidently expected her to answer; so Dorothy said, with hesitation, "You are very kind, but there must be some mistake. I have not killed anything." "Your house did, anyway," replied the little old woman, with a laugh, "and that is the same thing. See!" she continued, pointing to the corner of the house. "There are her two feet, still sticking out from under a block of wood." Dorothy looked, and gave a little cry of fright. There, indeed, just under the corner of the great beam the house rested on, two feet were sticking out, shod in silver shoes with pointed toes. "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands together in dismay. "The house must have fallen on her. Whatever shall we do?" "There is nothing to be done," said the little woman calmly. "But who was she?" asked Dorothy. "She was the Wicked Witch of the East, as I said," answered the little woman. "She has held all the Munchkins in bondage for many years, making them slave for her night and day. Now they are all set free, and are grateful to you for the favor." "Who are the Munchkins?" inquired Dorothy. "They are the people who live in this land of the East where the Wicked Witch ruled." "Are you a Munchkin?" asked Dorothy. "No, but I am their friend, although I live in the land of the North. When they saw the Witch of the East was dead the Munchkins sent a swift messenger to me, and I came at once. I am the Witch of the North." "Oh, gracious!" cried Dorothy. "Are you a real witch?" "Yes, indeed," answered the little woman. "But I am a good witch, and the people love me. I am not as powerful as the Wicked Witch was who ruled here, or I should have set the people free myself." "But I thought all witches were wicked," said the girl, who was half frightened at facing a real witch. "Oh, no, that is a great mistake. There were only four witches in all the Land of Oz, and two of them, those who live in the North and the South, are good witches. I know this is true, for I am one of them myself, and cannot be mistaken. Those who dwelt in the East and the West were, indeed, wicked witches; but now that you have killed one of them, there is but one Wicked Witch in all the Land of Oz--the one who lives in the West." "But," said Dorothy, after a moment\'s thought, "Aunt Em has told me that the witches were all dead--years and years ago." "Who is Aunt Em?" inquired the little old woman. "She is my aunt who lives in Kansas, where I came from." The Witch of the North seemed to think for a time, with her head bowed and her eyes upon the ground. Then she looked up and said, "I do not know where Kansas is, for I have never heard that country mentioned before. But tell me, is it a civilized country?" "Oh, yes," replied Dorothy. "Who are the wizards?" asked Dorothy. "What is it?" asked the little old woman, and looked, and began to laugh. The feet of the dead Witch had disappeared entirely, and nothing was left but the silver shoes. "The Witch of the East was proud of those silver shoes," said one of the Munchkins, "and there is some charm connected with them; but what it is we never knew." Dorothy carried the shoes into the house and placed them on the table. Then she came out again to the Munchkins and said: "I am anxious to get back to my aunt and uncle, for I am sure they will worry about me. Can you help me find my way?" The Munchkins and the Witch first looked at one another, and then at Dorothy, and then shook their heads. "At the East, not far from here," said one, "there is a great desert, and none could live to cross it." "I am told," said the third man, "that it is the same at the West. And that country, where the Winkies live, is ruled by the Wicked Witch of the West, who would make you her slave if you passed her way." "LET DOROTHY GO TO THE CITY OF EMERALDS" The little old woman took the slate from her nose, and having read the words on it, asked, "Is your name Dorothy, my dear?" "Yes," answered the child, looking up and drying her tears. "Then you must go to the City of Emeralds. Perhaps Oz will help you." "Where is this city?" asked Dorothy. "Is he a good man?" inquired the girl anxiously. "How can I get there?" asked Dorothy. "You must walk. It is a long journey, through a country that is sometimes pleasant and sometimes dark and terrible. However, I will use all the magic arts I know of to keep you from harm." "Won\'t you go with me?" pleaded the girl, who had begun to look upon the little old woman as her only friend. "No, I cannot do that," she replied, "but I will give you my kiss, and no one will dare injure a person who has been kissed by the Witch of the North." She came close to Dorothy and kissed her gently on the forehead. Where her lips touched the girl they left a round, shining mark, as Dorothy found out soon after. But Dorothy, knowing her to be a witch, had expected her to disappear in just that way, and was not surprised in the least. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn139.txt b/text/sn139.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c8881d4ea5f6fa6aff6e9f067fad7a0050916ae5 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn139.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Dorothy has been whisked away to a strange land by a great whirlwind. She wants to get back to her home in Kansas. A kindly witch has advised her to seek help from the Wizard of Oz in the City of Emeralds, and she is about to set out on her way. In this episode, she makes a new friend whose head is stuffed full of straw. Read by Natasha. Chapter 3. How Dorothy Saved the Scarecrow When Dorothy was left alone she began to feel hungry. So she went to the cupboard and cut herself some bread, which she spread with butter. She gave some to Toto, and taking a pail from the shelf she carried it down to the little brook and filled it with clear, sparkling water. Toto ran over to the trees and began to bark at the birds sitting there. Then she went back to the house, and having helped herself and Toto to a good drink of the cool, clear water, she set about making ready for the journey to the City of Emeralds. "They surely will never do for a long journey, Toto," she said. And Toto looked up into her face with his little black eyes and wagged his tail to show he knew what she meant. At that moment Dorothy saw lying on the table the silver shoes that had belonged to the Witch of the East. "I wonder if they will fit me," she said to Toto. "They would be just the thing to take a long walk in, for they could not wear out." She took off her old leather shoes and tried on the silver ones, which fitted her as well as if they had been made for her. Finally she picked up her basket. She closed the door, locked it, and put the key carefully in the pocket of her dress. And so, with Toto trotting along soberly behind her, she started on her journey. There were several roads near by, but it did not take her long to find the one paved with yellow bricks. Within a short time she was walking briskly toward the Emerald City, her silver shoes tinkling merrily on the hard, yellow road-bed. The sun shone bright and the birds sang sweetly, and Dorothy did not feel nearly so bad as you might think a little girl would who had been suddenly whisked away from her own country and set down in the midst of a strange land. Toward evening, when Dorothy was tired with her long walk and began to wonder where she should pass the night, she came to a house rather larger than the rest. On the green lawn before it many men and women were dancing. Five little fiddlers played as loudly as possible, and the people were laughing and singing, while a big table near by was loaded with delicious fruits and nuts, pies and cakes, and many other good things to eat. The people greeted Dorothy kindly, and invited her to supper and to pass the night with them; for this was the home of one of the richest Munchkins in the land, and his friends were gathered with him to celebrate their freedom from the bondage of the Wicked Witch. Dorothy ate a hearty supper and was waited upon by the rich Munchkin himself, whose name was Boq. Then she sat upon a settee and watched the people dance. When Boq saw her silver shoes he said, "You must be a great sorceress." "Why?" asked the girl. "Because you wear silver shoes and have killed the Wicked Witch. Besides, you have white in your frock, and only witches and sorceresses wear white." "My dress is blue and white checked," said Dorothy, smoothing out the wrinkles in it. "It is kind of you to wear that," said Boq. "Blue is the color of the Munchkins, and white is the witch color. So we know you are a friendly witch." Dorothy did not know what to say to this, for all the people seemed to think her a witch, and she knew very well she was only an ordinary little girl who had come by the chance of a cyclone into a strange land. When she had tired watching the dancing, Boq led her into the house, where he gave her a room with a pretty bed in it. The sheets were made of blue cloth, and Dorothy slept soundly in them till morning, with Toto curled up on the blue rug beside her. She ate a hearty breakfast, and watched a wee Munchkin baby, who played with Toto and pulled his tail and crowed and laughed in a way that greatly amused Dorothy. Toto was a fine curiosity to all the people, for they had never seen a dog before. "How far is it to the Emerald City?" the girl asked. "I do not know," answered Boq gravely, "for I have never been there. It is better for people to keep away from Oz, unless they have business with him. But it is a long way to the Emerald City, and it will take you many days. The country here is rich and pleasant, but you must pass through rough and dangerous places before you reach the end of your journey." This worried Dorothy a little, but she knew that only the Great Oz could help her get to Kansas again, so she bravely resolved not to turn back. She bade her friends good-bye, and again started along the road of yellow brick. When she had gone several miles she thought she would stop to rest, and so climbed to the top of the fence beside the road and sat down. There was a great cornfield beyond the fence, and not far away she saw a Scarecrow, placed high on a pole to keep the birds from the ripe corn. While Dorothy was looking earnestly into the queer, painted face of the Scarecrow, she was surprised to see one of the eyes slowly wink at her.She thought she must have been mistaken at first, for none of the scarecrows in Kansas ever wink; but presently the figure nodded its head to her in a friendly way. Then she climbed down from the fence and walked up to it, while Toto ran around the pole and barked. "Good day," said the Scarecrow, in a rather husky voice. "Did you speak?" asked the girl, in wonder. "Certainly," answered the Scarecrow. "How do you do?" "I\'m pretty well, thank you," replied Dorothy politely. "How do you do?" "I\'m not feeling well," said the Scarecrow, with a smile, "for it is very tedious being perched up here night and day to scare away crows." "Can\'t you get down?" asked Dorothy. "No, for this pole is stuck up my back. If you will please take away the pole I shall be greatly obliged to you." Dorothy reached up both arms and lifted the figure off the pole, for being stuffed with straw, it was quite light. "Thank you very much," said the Scarecrow, when he had been set down on the ground. "I feel like a new man." Dorothy was puzzled at this, for it sounded queer to hear a stuffed man speak, and to see him bow and walk along beside her. "Who are you?" asked the Scarecrow when he had stretched himself and yawned. "And where are you going?" "My name is Dorothy," said the girl, "and I am going to the Emerald City, to ask the Great Oz to send me back to Kansas." "Where is the Emerald City?" he inquired. "And who is Oz?" "Why, don\'t you know?" she returned, in surprise. "No, indeed. I don\'t know anything. You see, I am stuffed, so I have no brains at all," he answered sadly. "Oh," said Dorothy, "I\'m awfully sorry for you." "Do you think," he asked, "if I go to the Emerald City with you, that Oz would give me some brains?" "I cannot tell," she returned, "but you may come with me, if you like. If Oz will not give you any brains you will be no worse off than you are now." "I understand how you feel," said the little girl, who was truly sorry for him. "If you will come with me I\'ll ask Oz to do all he can for you." "Thank you," he answered gratefully. They walked back to the road. Dorothy helped him over the fence, and they started along the path of yellow brick for the Emerald City. Toto did not like this addition to the party at first. He smelled around the stuffed man as if he suspected there might be a nest of rats in the straw, and he often growled in an unfriendly way at the Scarecrow. "Don\'t mind Toto," said Dorothy to her new friend. "He never bites." "Oh, I\'m not afraid," replied the Scarecrow. "He can\'t hurt the straw. Do let me carry that basket for you. I shall not mind it, for I can\'t get tired. I\'ll tell you a secret," he continued, as he walked along. "There is only one thing in the world I am afraid of." "What is that?" asked Dorothy; "the Munchkin farmer who made you?" "No," answered the Scarecrow; "it\'s a lighted match." And that was the third part of the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. I do hope that you enjoyed it. I’ll be back soon and we will find what other strange creatures Dorothy meets in the land of Oz. And don’t forget, we have loads more free stories at Storynory.com. If you would like to support us, you can find a donate button in our sidebar. For now, from me, Natasha \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn14.txt b/text/sn14.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..baccbf66b94d9302b904624aa3de0f83a1a4e08f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn14.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Which side are you on – the Giants or the Gods? When you’ve listened to the story, you can leave a comment and let us know. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Pictures by CaiJia. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Hello, this is Natasha and this is our latest story about Katie the witch. I ought to mention that there aren’t actually any giants in this story, so I hope you aren’t too disappointed about that. After all, Katie is an ordinary school girl, and it would be quite surprising if giants suddenly appeared in the playground. But giants are important to the story. – as you will hear. There was a new girl at school. Her name was Jazz and you might have thought that she would be quite shy until she had time to settle in. Katie thought: “Poor Jazz, starting a school is such a big thing. She must be quite scared really.” After the first lesson, she went up to her and said: “Hi, My name’s Katie. Don’t worry, we’re all pretty friendly here. Well most of us are…” Jazz frowned and stared past Katie’s face in a strange way. She said: “Couldn’t you find your hairbrush this morning?” Samantha laughed at this remark, and made an action like a monster: “Katie’s hair is always WILD,” she exclaimed. And then she added with a toss of thumb: “She’s the weird one.” Jazz said: “Yes, I see that. Every class has one of those.” Katie felt so hurt it was like Jazz had hit her. She decided to avoid her. But at lunchtime, lots of other people wanted to chat to the new girl, and she was instantly popular. Her mum was a presenter on one of those TV shows about buying a house that was a bit of a tip, and then doing it up to be a dream home. Everyone thought that was super-cool. Even Katie’s best friend Isis was impressed. So all in all, it was quite surprising when Jazz came up to Katie the next day. Katie innocently thought that perhaps she wanted to apologise or say something kind to make up for the bad start. But she was wrong. Jazz said coolly: “People say you’re a witch.” “People say lots of things,”said Katie, walking a little faster down the corridor towards the art class. “I was in your mum’s magic crystal shop yesterday,” she went on. “What are those things supposed to do?” “Magic things can make your house have good energy,” said Katie. “They can give you positive vibes.” “Well that doesn’t do anything for me,” said Jazz. “My motto is, If you can’t see it, eat it, or spend it, then it’s no good to anyone. In fact, I don’t believe in magic. What you can’t touch, doesn’t exist.” “Yeah, Katie’s mum is just selling fake spells,” said Samantha, who was also walking along with them: “A fake witch is worse than a real one if you ask me.” “Well nobody is asking you,” said Katie. “Actually, I’m asking her,” said Jenny. “Samantha, what do you think of Katie, her mum, and their shop?” “Fake, fake fake,” said Samantha. And Jazz and Jenny thought that was hilarious. Katie was used to being teased, but it particularly upset her when people said bad things about her mum. That evening she was still feeling glum, and she said to her mother: “There’s a new girl at school who says that if you can’t see, spend, or eat something then it’s no good to anyone.” “Well that’s nonsense,” said her mum who was busy mending an antique magic belt that was embroidered with all sorts of mysterious patterns. “There are lots of really important things that you can’t touch or see.” “You mean like magic?,” asked Katie. “Because lots of people don’t believe it, so they think that we witches are fakes.” “It’s not just magic that you can’t see,” said her mum. “And it’s not just magic that lots of folk don’t believe in. There have always been two types of people, and there always will be.” “You mean like witches and ordinary people?” “Not quite,” said her mother. “Now, Katie, if you get your magic homework book, I’m going to tell you a story from Ancient Greece that explains what I am talking about. It’s a myth, so it’s not exactly true, but it has a deeper meaning…. that’s something lots of people find hard to understand too. According to the story, there are two great forces in the world. There are the giants who rule the Earth, and the Gods who rule the heavens. The giants are always trying to grab hold of anything that is solid, like rocks, trees, or buildings, and pull them to the ground. They want to dig up all the precious gold and silver that they can find, because they think that wealth will make them powerful. They plan to destroy the mountains that hold up the sky, so that the Gods will come tumbling down to Earth. But the Gods are not afraid, because they don’t care about solid things. They value what you can’t touch or see. This war goes on and on, and it always will. We know this story from a wise man called Socrates, and it’s still just as true today as it was in ancient times.” And when Katie still looked puzzled, her mum said that she was going to set some witch’s homework. By the end of the week, she had to find three important and valuable things that you can’t see, touch, spend, or eat – excluding magic. And although Katie thought that this was the strangest homework she had ever been set, she agreed to do her best. The next day, Katie could not see anything invisible at all – which was not surprising when you come to think about it. Isis promised to help her look for something important that you can’t see, but she couldn’t find anything like that either – even though both of them kept looking hard right up until the bell for the end of school. Her mum looked glum when she came to collect her. “Is anything the matter?” asked Katie. “The owner of the shop is putting up my the rent. I don’t think I can pay it. I’ll have to close at the end of the summer.” “Oh that’s terrible!”said Katie giving her mother a hug, and trying not to burst into tears. As her head rested against her mother’s chest she thought: “Perhaps Jazz is right. Real things like money count for more than stuff you can’t see.” Just as it seemed that life could not get any worse, it did. Their teacher, Miss Vile said to the class: “This year’s school trip will be to a very special place. We are going to New York!” Everyone was super-excited because the furthest the school had ever been before was Clacton-on-Sea. But the letter they took home told their parents that the cost of the trip would be £800. Katie knew that her mother could not afford it. “Don’t worry Mum,” she said. “I really don’t mind about the school trip.” But of course she felt left out. And it seemed like yet more proof that things like money really do matter most in life. “I’m really worried,” said Katie to Isis, the next day, “because bad things always happen in threes. What awful thing can happen to me today?” “Don’t believe that nonsense,” said Isis, “It’s only superstition.” And Isis was right, because nothing bad did happen that day. “Mum, I’m so grateful nothing bad happened today,” said Katie when she got home. “Well done darling,” said her mum. “That’s one important thing you have found that you can’t see, touch or eat.” “Have I? What?” said Katie puzzled. “Gratitude,” said her mum. “We must always be grateful for anything good that happens, or anything bad that doesn’t happen. In fact we must be grateful for all the happiness and good fortunes that we have. Gratitude makes us much more content with life.” “Oh I see,” said Katie. “Now I’m beginning to understand.” It was Friday. Katie was secretly pleased that she had managed to get to the end of such a bad week. Isis’s mum picked her up from school to come over for a sleep-over. It was going to be such fun. “I spoke to your mum today,” she said. “And she’s agreed that you can come pony trekking again with us at the half-term.” Katie was amazed. “But isn’t Isis going on the school trip at half-term?” she asked. “She doesn’t want to go to New York without her best-friend,” said Isis’s mum. And Katie realised that she had found another really, really important thing that you can’t see or touch: friendship. Katie and Isis chatted long after light’s out about all sorts of things, but mostly about the important things that you can’t see, eat or spend. “I still don’t know who is right though,” said Katie, “The giants who believe in solid things like money and riches, or the Gods who believe in things like gratitude and friendship. If you could see how worried Mum is about having to close the shop, you couldn’t fail to see that money is really important.” “I’m not sure that you are right,” said Katie, “But I do hope that you are.” Katie’s mum came to pick her up from Isis’s house after tea on Saturday. The girls had been out to the pony farm to ride Isis’s horse and had enjoyed a lovely day. Katie noticed that her mum’s face looked far more relaxed than last time she had seen her. In the car she said: “Tell me Mum, have you got some good news?” “I have,” replied her mum. And she explained that a woman from a TV show called “DES RES” which was short for “Desirable Residence,” had been into the shop several times, and wanted to feature it in her next series. She loved some of the wooden statues and beautifully embroidered cushions, and she thought that they would feature in a make-over of an old-run down country house, which could be turned into some sort of Aladdin’s Palace. “Wow,”said Katie. “Her daughter is in my class at school. Her name is Jazz and she said all sorts of horrible snooty things about your shop.” “Well her mother loves it!” said Katie’s mum thrilled. “And the landlord says he won’t put the rent up for another year if we are on TV, because publicity will be good for the whole street. And of course it wouldn’t look nice for him if the TV show heard that he was being mean to us and that we had to close down.” Katie was thrilled. She thought: “This is perfect revenge on Jazz. She’ll have to eat her words.” And she realised that revenge was something you can’t see, but she also knew that her mum would not approve of it, so she did not say what she was thinking. On Monday, she went to school with a spring in her step. As luck would have it, she and Jazz both arrived in the classroom a few minutes early. They were alone together. Jazz said: “Katie there’s something I want to say to you.” “What’s that?” said Katie getting ready for some nasty barbed comment. “Sorry,” said Jazz. Katie was amazed. She was more stunned than the time Jazz had been really mean to her. And she realised that she had discovered two more really important but invisible things. Apologising, and forgiveness. And that was the story of Katie and the Giants. I do hope that you enjoyed it. Which side are you on.. The Giants or the Gods? Or perhaps sometimes you are on one side, and other times on the other? It’s something to think about. And for those who like to know about this sort of thing, the original story of the Giants and the Gods can be found in a book called The Sophist by Plato. Our Katie stories are one of our most popular series on Storynory.com. There are many more stories on the site too, so do drop by and listen to some soon. And you might like to know that you can now listen to our Story, Katie and the Witch’s swap, for free on the site. But if you can buy our iPhone and iPad app with 17 original illustrations for story that would be fantastic. And thanks too to everyone who bought the Witch’s Swap story when it was for sale, and to everyone who has made donations to Storynory. For now, from me, Natasha Bye Bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn140.txt b/text/sn140.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f939b7583fb1312d4ff71a46924de8169154d67e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn140.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The scarecrow tells Dorothy how it felt to see and hear for the first time. The scarecrow may not be much good at scaring crows, but he believes that he could be as good a man as any, and a better man than some, if only he had some brains. Night is falling as the two friends continue along The Yellow Brick Road. Read by Natasha. Duration 12.54. By L. Frank Baum. The Scarecrow sighed. "Won\'t you tell me a story, while we are resting?" asked the child. The Scarecrow looked at her reproachfully, and answered: "`They aren\'t straight,\'" answered the other. "Anyone would know that," said Dorothy. Soon after the Scarecrow stopped. "Yes, indeed," answered the child. "I am all tired out." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn141.txt b/text/sn141.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..970081b97bcdac6eef740e390a5ef403246e1e59 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn141.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 17.35 When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and Toto had long been out chasing birds around him and squirrels. She sat up and looked around her. Scarecrow, still standing patiently in his corner, waiting for her. "We must go and search for water," she said to him. "Why do you want water?" he asked. "To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to drink, so the dry bread will not stick in my throat." "What was that?" she asked timidly. "I cannot imagine," replied the Scarecrow; "but we can go and see." "Did you groan?" asked Dorothy. "Why do you wish to see Oz?" he asked. The Tin Woodman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then he said: "Do you suppose Oz could give me a heart?" "Why didn\'t you walk around the hole?" asked the Tin Woodman. "Have you any?" inquired the Scarecrow. "And why is that?" asked the Scarecrow. "I will tell you my story, and then you will know." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn142.txt b/text/sn142.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ebddd5c9534bb3eec39c4f4917beffcb541d3d71 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn142.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 13.37. "But Toto!" said the girl anxiously. "What will protect him?" "Of course he\'s stuffed," replied Dorothy, who was still angry. "He is my dog, Toto," answered Dorothy. "Is he made of tin, or stuffed?" asked the Lion. "Neither. He\'s a--a--a meat dog," said the girl. "Perhaps you have heart disease," said the Tin Woodman. "It may be," said the Lion. "Have you brains?" asked the Scarecrow. "I suppose so. I\'ve never looked to see," replied the Lion. "And I am going to ask him to give me a heart," said the Woodman. "Do you think Oz could give me courage?" asked the Cowardly Lion. "Just as easily as he could give me brains," said the Scarecrow. "Or give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman. "Or send me back to Kansas," said Dorothy. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn143.txt b/text/sn143.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a235e37765c78a8a52a76ec0e969ef2313c9c83c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn143.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 15.39 "What shall we do?" asked Dorothy despairingly. "Well, I\'ll try it," said the Lion. "Who will go first?" "Why don\'t you run and jump?" asked the Scarecrow. "What are the Kalidahs?" asked the girl. "They are the Kalidahs!" said the Cowardly Lion, beginning to tremble. "Quick!" cried the Scarecrow. "Let us cross over." "Ah," said the Tin Woodman sadly, "I wish I had a heart to beat." "How shall we cross the river?" asked Dorothy. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn144.txt b/text/sn144.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..5ecd76b43e8de5ca2f932704b5d939d594776ceb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn144.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio In this episode the Scarecrow finds himself stuck up a pole once again, and the friends face a new danger, this time from a flower. Read by Natasha. Duration 15.17 8. The Deadly Poppy Field "And then I should get no brains," said the Scarecrow. "And I should get no courage," said the Cowardly Lion. "And I should get no heart," said the Tin Woodman. "And I should never get back to Kansas," said Dorothy. Of course this was a bad thing for the Scarecrow. "We must get back to the road, in some way," said Dorothy. "What can we do to save him?" asked Dorothy. "Who are you and where are you going?" asked the Stork. "Where is he?" asked the Stork. "Over there in the river," answered the little girl. "If I only had a heart, I should love them," added the Tin Woodman. But the Tin Woodman would not let her do this. "What shall we do?" asked the Tin Woodman. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn145.txt b/text/sn145.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..5a97d2010232e53e1db2c5987786fcf28ea7dc37 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn145.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio Read by Natasha. Duration 11.21. "Oh, thank you! Thank you ever so much for saving my life." "Oh, indeed," said the Woodman, making a bow. "I will not let him," said the Woodman; "so do not be afraid." "A Lion!" cried the little Queen. "Why, he would eat us all up." "Oh, no," declared the Scarecrow; "this Lion is a coward." "Really?" asked the Mouse. "Very well," said the Queen, "we trust you. But what shall we do?" "Oh, yes; there are thousands," she replied. "Permit me to introduce to you her Majesty, the Queen." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn146.txt b/text/sn146.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..5f240f34132d66a579ef2338182f2683363ba1e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn146.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio Read by Natasha. Duration 16 Minutes. 10. The Guardian of the Gate "Is he tame?" asked the woman, opening the door a little wider. "Where are you all going?" "To the Emerald City," said Dorothy, "to see the Great Oz." "Oh, indeed!" exclaimed the man. "Are you sure that Oz will see you?" "Why not?" she replied. "Does he never go out?" asked the Scarecrow. "What is he like?" asked the girl. "Why do you wish to see the terrible Oz?" asked the man. "I want him to give me some brains," said the Scarecrow eagerly. "And I want him to give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman. "And I want him to give me courage," said the Cowardly Lion. "And I want him to send me back to Kansas," said Dorothy. "Where is Kansas?" asked the man, with surprise. "That must be the Emerald City," said Dorothy. "We came here to see the Great Oz," said Dorothy. "Why?" asked Dorothy. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn147.txt b/text/sn147.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1bc9214acfa14c47d4bbd97e2008da992a0dcb58 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn147.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the Audio At last we meet the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. But is he one or three wizards? He appears in different forms to Dorothy and his friends. And he insists that before he will help them, they must do him a favour first - a big favour. Read by Natasha. Duration 28.55 11. The Wonderful City of Oz "Have you seen Oz?" "Thank you," replied the girl; "that is very kind of Oz." "Are you really going to look upon the face of Oz the Terrible?" "Of course," answered the girl, "if he will see me." "I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?" "I am Dorothy, the Small and Meek. I have come to you for help." "Where did you get the silver shoes?" "Where did you get the mark upon your forehead?" continued the voice. "Why should I do this for you?" asked Oz. "That just happened," returned Dorothy simply; "I could not help it." "What must I do?" asked the girl. "Kill the Wicked Witch of the West," answered Oz. "But I cannot!" exclaimed Dorothy, greatly surprised. "Come with me, for Oz has sent for you." "I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?" "Why should I do this for you?" asked the Lady. "Oz has sent for you. Follow me." "Why should I do this?" demanded the Beast. "How?" asked the Woodman. "I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Who are you, and why do you seek me?" "Why should I give you courage?" demanded Oz. "What shall we do now?" asked Dorothy sadly. "But suppose we cannot?" said the girl. "Then I shall never have courage," declared the Lion. "And I shall never have brains," added the Scarecrow. "And I shall never have a heart," spoke the Tin Woodman. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn148.txt b/text/sn148.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..615645e58e173069f1b513533b01eafc799f0df1 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn148.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The famous Wicked Witch of the West sends armies of strange creatures to attack Dorothy and her friends. But neither wolves nor crows can get the better of them. The Winged Monkeys prove to be the most dangerous threat. This is an EXCITING chapter.... Read by Natasha. Duration 29. 12. The Search for the Wicked Witch "Which road leads to the Wicked Witch of the West?" asked Dorothy. "How, then, are we to find her?" inquired the girl. "Perhaps not," said the Scarecrow, "for we mean to destroy her." "Go to those people," said the Witch, "and tear them to pieces." "It is only a stuffed man. I will peck his eyes out." "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!" "Of course not," answered Dorothy. "How should I?" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn149.txt b/text/sn149.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c88e769ae830c2d305c6353a45844d49d4c2b7fd --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn149.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +"Don\'t you suppose we could rescue them?" asked the girl anxiously. "We can try," answered the Lion. "Are any of your people tinsmiths?" "Oh, yes. Some of us are very good tinsmiths," they told her. "We must try to find him," said the girl. "Yes," said the Woodman, "at last I shall get my heart." "And I shall get my brains," added the Scarecrow joyfully. "And I shall get my courage," said the Lion thoughtfully. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn15.txt b/text/sn15.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6afc3215ae38f5955f3428b231263fe6e5a628dd --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn15.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ + We learn a new side to Katie’s mother in this magical adventure which takes us to Morocco, and Marrakesh, the magical capital of the world. One astute listener recently said she liked our Katie stories because Katie’s mum is such a good role model. In most children’s stories (she said) the parents are portrayed as dopes. Not in our Katie stories, as you will find out. (And thanks to Natasha for encouraging Bertie to develop the character of Katie’s mother). Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Katie and the Magician of Morocco.. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. It wasn’t that often that Katie’s mum said, “I’ve got some good news darling,” but that’s just the phrase that came tripping off her lips when she met her at the school gate. They had to hurry to the car, because she had parked on a yellow line and had left the shop closed while she came to pick up Katie. It was only when they were on their way that she revealed the details: “We’re going on holiday … to Morocco.” “That’s wonderful,” said Katie, and then: “How can we afford it?” “We can afford it,” said her mother, “because a rich and famous witch came into the shop and asked me to find her a flying carpet. She is paying for us to go to Marrakesh for a few days to look for one.” “Oh Mum!” exclaimed Katie. “I dreamed that something good like that would happen to us soon!” “And, we can find some other magical things for the shop while we are there,” continued her mum with excitement that was unusual for her: “Marrakesh is the magical capital of the world. Of course the magic shops are secret. We’ll have to find somebody to help us. But, I’m sure that won’t be too hard. After all, we are witches.” Two weeks later, Katie and her mum flew to Marrakesh. They went by plane, because it’s an awfully long journey to go by broomstick, and besides, Katie hadn’t passed her flying test yet. As they came down the steps of the plane, the evening air felt surprisingly chilly. Katie had expected Africa to be warmer. Katie’s mum explained: “They say Morocco is a cool country with a hot sun. It will heat up in the day.” The airport bus took them to the city. The reddish-pink walls of Marrakesh welcomed them in. Dusty palm trees wafted the hot tempers of drivers stuck in traffic jams. Mules argued with motorized rickshaws. The air smelt of oranges, spices, and petrol fumes. The bus dropped them off just outside the Medina… which is like a little city within a city … a maze of streets and alleys. They would never have found the guest house on their own, but there was no shortage of porters with wooden trollies who were only too ready to ferry their luggage and show the way. One of these led them through the allies, under ancient archways and past dilapidated walls, little shops, tiny squares, and stray cats, to a door that looked just like all the others in the Medina. You could hardly have guessed that behind lay a beautifully tiled courtyard with a fountain and potted palms. “How wonderful!” exclaimed Katie. “Was that a magic door we just stepped through?” “No,” said Katie’s mum. “It’s just a nice surprise!” Their room inside the traditional house, known as a riad, was up on the second floor, overlooking the courtyard. When they had rested and washed, they took a map and found their own way to the great square of Marrakesh known as Djamaa El Fna. The sound of Dmamaa El Fna is one of the greatest cacophonies of the world. It is a clashing din of store-holders cries, snake charmers Kazoos, storytellers tales, musicians, twangs, and general hubbub. Although it was night time already, the food stalls were a blaze of little light bulbs. It seemed like the whole of Marrakesh had come here for supper and was sitting down on the benches under the canvas roofs. Katie and her mum found soups and stews flavored with figs, and cooked in earthenware pots called tagines. “And none of this is magic, it’s just normal life?” asked Katie. “Well, there may well be some magic on the square,” said her mum, “But most of this is just normal life.” In the morning, they explored the souk, which is the huge market in the Medina. You could wander all day through alleyways and streets, and look at the stores overflowing with pots and pans, clothes and fabrics, spices and dried fruits. But nowhere was there a sign of a magic shop. “We really need a guide, somebody who knows the secret places,” said Katie’s mum. And Katie wished hard that somebody would come and help them. A few minutes later, while Katie’s mum was examining a lovely piece of fabric, a man came up to her and said: “Madam, you are beautiful like a gazelle! Let me be your guide for you, and your lovely daughter.” “No thank you,” said Katie’s mum, who was always suspicious of flatterers. “We are alright on our own.” Katie thought that perhaps her mum was being too hasty. Her witch’s intuition made her feel certain that help was near at hand. They went inside the shop and her mum asked the sleepy looking owner. “Do you have anything magical?” “Madam, only your eyes are magical things in this market…..” “Well, thank you,” said Katie’s mum, who really wasn’t open to flattery, but secretly felt quite pleased by the remark. As they stepped outside, another man stood close by and said very quietly…. “Excuse me Madam, did I hear you are looking for magical things?” “Well yes,” she replied. “You did hear correctly…” And Katie just knew that they had found their magical guide. He was young with quick intelligent eyes, and a little mustache. Like many people in the Medina, he wore a long loose robe, with a hood and wide sleeves. Katie’s mum looked doubtfully at him: “He just wants to take us to his own shop,” she said. Katie felt quite embarrassed by her mum’s unusual lack of tact. But the man was not put off. “My name is Omar,” he said. “I know all the special magic places. Let me take you to them.” “Oh come on Mum,” said Katie, “At least he hasn’t praised your eyes or said you look like a gazelle.” “Well that’s true,” said Katie’s mum with a sigh, and scrutinizing Omar through her dark witchy eyes: “Can you show us where they sell magic carpets?” “Certainly,” said Omar, and he lead them on through the winding passages, past the slippers and cloths, the painted urns, and the baskets of spice. They came to the part of the market that was full of carpet shops. “Only one of these has magic carpets,” said their guide, “and you can be sure that I know which it is.” He took them into a place around a corner, and a little away from the rest. An old man sat peacefully on a stool. He did look kind of magical. The guide greeted him very politely and spoke to him. The old man snapped his fingers and a boy appeared. He sent him to fetch a large carpet which he unrolled on the floor. “It is very old,” said the shopkeeper. “It does look lovely,” said Katie, admiring the zigzags and arches that were patterned on it. “Does it fly?” asked Katie’s mum. “Oh no Madam, but it does some have some very nice magic. If you lie down on it for one hour a day, you will be thin and even more beautiful, by the end of the month. It is much better than going for runs or not eating nice food, don’t you think?” “Well, it would be,” said Katie’s mum, trying not to laugh, “but actually it’s a flying carpet that I am looking for.” “I must tell you the truth,” said Omar. “This man does not have a flying carpet. But what else would you like to buy? I will find it for you, Inshallah.” “What does Inshallah mean?” asked Katie. “God willing,” said her mum. And then turning back to Omar: “If you can find me a good supply of something pretty and magical, I can buy plenty of them for my own shop back home, Inshallah.” “Oh Madam, it is a pleasure to help a lady of business. We will find twenty magic coffee pots at a very nice price for you.” And soon they were in the part of the market where the copper makers worked, sitting on stools as they hammered out trays and pots. “This special shop has a very nice pot,” said Omar. “You see the little bird who sits on the top of it. He is the bird of wisdom. If you make your coffee from this pot everyday, you will become very wise. If your daughter drinks from it, she will pass all her exams.” “I’m afraid our customers back home are tea drinkers,” said Katie’s mum. Omar bowed. “Never fear. I have just the thing for you, Madam,” he said. “Follow me.” As they made their way through the illuminated alleys, Katie whispered: “Mum, do you believe anything he says about magic?” and Katie’s mum replied: “Everything he’s shown us so far is fake. But my witch’s intuition tells me that he does really know where to buy some magic things, and he’s just holding it back.” “That’s good, because I got that feeling too,” said Katie. Finally they reached the slipper market. Here you could choose from thousands of lovely pointed slippers with charming patterns on them. But, according to Omar, only one of stores sold magic footwear. “When you feel tired put on these slippers, and you will be refreshed within fifteen minutes,” he claimed. “That’s a nice idea,” sighed Katie’s mum, “but not everyone where we live will believe that. In fact, we have laws against selling things that make big claims that can’t be proved. What we need is something that nobody can doubt is magic – like a flying carpet for instance. That’s really what I came to Morocco to find. I am sorry to be difficult, but are you sure you can’t find us a real flying carpet?” “Madam,” said Omar, “I see that you are a wise lady, and that you know in your heart what you want. Inshallah I shall find it for you, but not in this market. Meet me tomorrow at 7 in the morning. I shall take you to a very secret place in the mountains where they make magic flying carpets.” “That sounds more promising,” said Katie’s mum brightly. “But only real flying carpets mind you – none of that close your eyes and fall asleep and dream you are flying business…. I want truly magical elevation.” “You shall see real magic, Madam,” said Omar, “Inshallah.” The next day they met Omar by the taxi rank. He had hired a dusty old car. They drove out of the reddish pink coloured city, and up into the matching reddish-pink coloured Atlas mountains. They saw goats climbing up trees to munch the leaves, and terraced fields pushing up grass between the stones. The higher they went, the dryer the land became. It was steep and full of pebbles. But on the peaks of the mountains, they could see snow. Eventually the car pulled onto the side of the road, and Omar said: “Now we must walk. It is the only way to reach the secret village where they make the magic carpets.” Fortunately, Katie and her mum had both brought thick soled hiking boots. They drank plenty of water as they tramped along the stony path, with the hot reddish-pink sun beating down on them. Eventually they reached a tiny village. It seemed to appear like magic. Perhaps it was magic. Omar lead them into a house. “This is my grandmother and my grandfather,” said Omar. And Katie and her mum said how pleased and honoured they were to meet the friendly old couple. Katie’s toes tingled. She knew that they had magic powers. They sat down on cushions on the floor. The old lady brought them tea in little glasses, and sweet cakes on a tray. Omar spoke at length to his grandparents, and at one point appeared to be almost arguing with them. Katie guessed that they did not want to show their magic secrets to strangers. After a while, the old man disappeared into the back of the house, and brought back a small carpet which he unfurled on the floor. His wife spoke some words, in a commanding sort of way, and the carpet began to rise up a few inches above the ground and hover. The old man put his tea glass on it – as if it were a table – and he laughed. They all smiled and Katie clapped. “Thank you,” said Katie’s mum. “This is what we came to Morocco to find. Is it for sale? Can we agree a price?” The grandfather named a price. It was rather high, and Katie’s mum shook her head. He named another price, slightly lower, and she still shook her head. “I’m sorry,” said Katie’s mum. “I love the carpet, but it’s too high. I can’t sell it for that much back home.” When Omar translated this, the price came down even lower and they had a deal. Katie was pleased, because she really wanted to take that carpet back home and try it out before they gave it to the rich old witch who had sent them to Morocco. Now that the deal was done, the atmosphere became relaxed. The old man wanted to know all about their shop back home, and what sort of prices people paid for magical things. But while they were chatting some visitors came into the house without asking. One of them was a tall, thick set man, with grey hair and a squarish head. He held a thick stick in his hand. Katie felt his magic powers. They were strong and aggressive. He pointed his stick at her mother in a threatening sort of way. Omar looked frightened and said: “This is the village elder. He wants you to go with him.” “We shan’t,” said Katie’s mother. “He is a very powerful magician. You must do as he says,” said Omar. “We can do magic too,” answered Katie. Omar shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up as if to say: “Get real,” which he might have said if he knew English slang. Katie tried not to cry. Her mother put her arm around her. There were several other men crowding into the little house now. They had no choice but to go with them. There were lots of people out on the street now. They were talking excitedly and some people were shouting. They were led into another house, and a little room without a window. The door was bolted behind them. “What will happen to us?” sobbed Katie. Her mother comforted her and said soothingly. “Don’t worry darling. It’s going to be all right. I promise.” An hour later, Omar brought them some tea and oranges. “I am very sorry,” he said. “The village elders are angry that I brought you here. This is a very secret place. They do not want outsiders to know about our magic.” “I realised that,” said Katie’s mum. “What do they mean to do with us?” “The village council will decide tomorrow morning,” said Omar. “I am afraid you must stay the night here.” When he had left them alone, Katie said: “Do you think they will murder us?” “I don’t know, and I don’t intend to find out,” said her mum. “We will wait here until it’s dark, and then we’ll leave.” A few hours later, it was completely dark in the room, and uncomfortably cold. All was deathly quiet, except for the occasional bark of a village dog. Katie’s mum got up and felt her way to the door. She tapped it very lightly with her fingers, and Katie heard the bolts fall off onto the ground on the other side. They pushed the door open, and crept through the house onto the street. A dog came running towards them. Katie’s mum waved her arms with a downward motion, and the dog lay down on its tummy. “Good doggie,” said Katie’s mum. Then she tested the air with her long finger. “I sense the most powerful magic is coming from that house on the other side of the street,” she said. “So do I,” agreed Katie. Her mother beckoned at the house. The door opened and a carpet flew out towards them. It stopped on the ground at the feet of her mother. The village elder was at the door of the house looking surprised. “Hop on quick,” said Katie’s mum. And Katie stepped onto the carpet and crouched down. “Hold on tight to my waist” said her mum, and soon they were flying forwards, a few feet above the road, at quite a fast pace. As they rushed along, they were also rising into the air. Katie looked round: “That nasty man’s got onto a carpet too,” she exclaimed to her mum. “Faster!” commanded her mum, and the carpet started to accelerate. The night air was rushing through Katie’s hair. Patches of snow were glinting blue on the surface of the Atlas Mountains. Katie could see the minarets of a high altitude mosque. But the thuggish village elder was catching up on them. Soon he was raising his stick and pointing it at their backs. Katie wondered if it could shoot them in some sort of way. Her mother turned round and pointed her finger back at their pursuer. “Halt” she commanded. “Oh no,” thought Katie. “His carpet doesn’t obey mum’s voice. Or perhaps her spell can’t reach that far back.” But actually, the magician’s carpet was slowing down. The man started to beat the carpet with his stick. His face was furious as he glided to a standstill in midair. “He will be stuck there for at least and hour,” said her mum cheerfully. Their own carpet sped on through the night air, but the magician raised his stick at the fleeing witches. Katie could feel its cold shadow on her back. She cringed, feeling that she was about to be hit with a powerful magical force. She was sure that she and her mother would go tumbling down to the ground at their doom. “Mum!” she cried. Her mother turned round and snapped her fingers. The stick flew out of the magician’s hand and spun off into the sky towards the stars. And after that, Katie and her mother enjoyed a pleasant flight back to Marrakech. Fortunately it was a dark night, and not many people saw them land on the roof of their riad. Those that did probably thought they were dreaming. Katie’s bed never felt so warm and comforting as that night. They got up late the next day, and had a lazy breakfast on the terrace. Katie’s mum bought a few nice but not particularly magical things in the Medina. They took a bus to a lovely seaside town and stayed there for a few days. Katie’s mum bought a magic coffee pot there, that really did do magic things, like make coffee without being put on the stove. And she bought some crystals that could stop you getting colds. But mostly they did things like swimming in the sea and horse riding along the beach. When they returned to Marrakech at the end of the week, they bumped into Omar in the Medina. “I am glad to see you,” said Katie’s mum. “I was afraid the village elders might take things out on you.” “They wanted to,“ said Omar, “But now they are afraid of me, because I know a powerful witch like you.” “That’s right,” said Katie’s mum. “If anyone threatens you, tell them they will have to deal with me.” “I will Madam,” said Omar, with a sly grin. And the following morning, Katie and her mum took the plane back home, with the flying carpet in their luggage. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn150.txt b/text/sn150.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fefdfaa797c30cb65fc174a8d8e7ab405de75347 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn150.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. "What can I do for my friends?" "Won\'t they hurt me?" asked the girl anxiously. "Ep-pe, pep-pe, kak-ke!" she said, standing on her left foot. "Hello!" replied the Tin Woodman calmly. The King bowed low before Dorothy, and asked, "What is your command?" "Why do you have to obey the charm of the Golden Cap?" she asked. "I shall be glad to hear it," she replied. "That was a good ride," said the little girl. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn151.txt b/text/sn151.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c6a852b61811fb395e6f87c39547f39287f7f5c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn151.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. "What! are you back again?" he asked, in surprise. "Do you not see us?" answered the Scarecrow. "But I thought you had gone to visit the Wicked Witch of the West." "We did visit her," said the Scarecrow. "And she let you go again?" asked the man, in wonder. "She could not help it, for she is melted," explained the Scarecrow. "It was Dorothy," said the Lion gravely. "I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Why do you seek me?" "We have come to claim our promise, O Oz." "What promise?" asked Oz. "And you promised to give me brains," said the Scarecrow. "And you promised to give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman. "And you promised to give me courage," said the Cowardly Lion. "Yes," she answered, "I melted her with a bucket of water." "You\'ve had plenty of time already," said the Tin Woodman angrily. "We shan\'t wait a day longer," said the Scarecrow. "You must keep your promises to us!" exclaimed Dorothy. Our friends looked at him in surprise and dismay. "I thought Oz was a great Head," said Dorothy. "And I thought Oz was a lovely Lady," said the Scarecrow. "And I thought Oz was a terrible Beast," said the Tin Woodman. "And I thought Oz was a Ball of Fire," exclaimed the Lion. "Making believe!" cried Dorothy. "Are you not a Great Wizard?" "And aren\'t you?" she asked. "Not a bit of it, my dear; I\'m just a common man." "Or I my courage?" asked the Lion. "Doesn\'t anyone else know you\'re a humbug?" asked Dorothy. "But how about the voice?" she inquired. So they sat down and listened while he told the following tale. "I was born in Omaha--" "Why, that isn\'t very far from Kansas!" cried Dorothy. "What is that?" asked Dorothy. "Oh," she said, "I know." "But isn\'t everything here green?" asked Dorothy. "I think you are a very bad man," said Dorothy. "Can\'t you give me brains?" asked the Scarecrow. The false Wizard looked at him carefully. "But how about my courage?" asked the Lion anxiously. "Very well, I will give you that sort of courage tomorrow," replied Oz. "How about my heart?" asked the Tin Woodman. "And now," said Dorothy, "how am I to get back to Kansas?" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn152.txt b/text/sn152.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7bb7c90d8f817569bf84ef837a61df480c3a73f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn152.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha "What! are you back again?" he asked, in surprise. "Do you not see us?" answered the Scarecrow. "But I thought you had gone to visit the Wicked Witch of the West." "We did visit her," said the Scarecrow. "And she let you go again?" asked the man, in wonder. "She could not help it, for she is melted," explained the Scarecrow. "It was Dorothy," said the Lion gravely. "I am Oz, the Great and Terrible. Why do you seek me?" "We have come to claim our promise, O Oz." "What promise?" asked Oz. "And you promised to give me brains," said the Scarecrow. "And you promised to give me a heart," said the Tin Woodman. "And you promised to give me courage," said the Cowardly Lion. "Yes," she answered, "I melted her with a bucket of water." "You\'ve had plenty of time already," said the Tin Woodman angrily. "We shan\'t wait a day longer," said the Scarecrow. "You must keep your promises to us!" exclaimed Dorothy. Our friends looked at him in surprise and dismay. "I thought Oz was a great Head," said Dorothy. "And I thought Oz was a lovely Lady," said the Scarecrow. "And I thought Oz was a terrible Beast," said the Tin Woodman. "And I thought Oz was a Ball of Fire," exclaimed the Lion. "Making believe!" cried Dorothy. "Are you not a Great Wizard?" "And aren\'t you?" she asked. "Not a bit of it, my dear; I\'m just a common man." "Or I my courage?" asked the Lion. "Doesn\'t anyone else know you\'re a humbug?" asked Dorothy. "But how about the voice?" she inquired. So they sat down and listened while he told the following tale. "I was born in Omaha--" "Why, that isn\'t very far from Kansas!" cried Dorothy. "What is that?" asked Dorothy. "Oh," she said, "I know." "But isn\'t everything here green?" asked Dorothy. "I think you are a very bad man," said Dorothy. "Can\'t you give me brains?" asked the Scarecrow. The false Wizard looked at him carefully. "But how about my courage?" asked the Lion anxiously. "Very well, I will give you that sort of courage tomorrow," replied Oz. "How about my heart?" asked the Tin Woodman. "And now," said Dorothy, "how am I to get back to Kansas?" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn153.txt b/text/sn153.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..e020bd33b42ee2c0c58574660782870a55a217ec --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn153.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Wizard has fulfilled his promises to Dorothy's friends, but not to her. She still has not found a way to get back to kansas. She thinks of asking her old friends, the Winged Monkeys, to see if they can help. ", 'Read by Natasha. Away to the South The Tin Woodman came to her and said: "Well, then, what can be done?" inquired the Woodman. "I want you to fly with me to Kansas," said Dorothy. But the Monkey King shook his head. "It is certainly too bad!" said the tender-hearted Woodman. "Is there no one who can help me?" asked Dorothy earnestly. "Glinda might," he suggested. "Who is Glinda?" inquired the Scarecrow. "Glinda is a Good Witch, isn\'t she?" asked the child. "How can I get to her castle?" asked Dorothy. The soldier then left them and the Scarecrow said: "You must have been thinking again," remarked the Tin Woodman. "I have," said the Scarecrow. "When shall we start?" asked the Scarecrow. "Are you going?" they asked, in surprise. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn154.txt b/text/sn154.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f112668de972c206027c84474d07679fdba14b5b --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn154.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +As Dorothy bade the good-natured Guardian a last farewell she said: "Here is another space between the trees," called the Lion. "This is strange," exclaimed Dorothy. "What shall we do?" "What shall we do now?" asked Dorothy. 20. The Dainty China Country The Scarecrow watched the Woodman while he worked, and said to him: "I cannot think why this wall is here, nor what it is made of." "Go on," exclaimed Dorothy. "How shall we get down?" asked Dorothy. "I\'m very sorry," returned Dorothy. "Please forgive us." Dorothy was quite grieved at this mishap. "Don\'t chase me! Don\'t chase me!" "But could you not be mended?" asked the girl. "I suppose not," said Dorothy. "Good-bye," replied the Princess. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn155.txt b/text/sn155.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..4146e9c7479a6c15ed1c0a8424e8067f7f16ec6a --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn155.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. While the Woodman was making a ladder from wood which he found in the forest Dorothy lay down and slept, for she was tired by the long walk. The Lion also curled himself up to sleep and Toto lay beside him. The Scarecrow watched the Woodman while he worked, and said to him: "I cannot think why this wall is here, nor what it is made of." "Rest your brains and do not worry about the wall," replied the Woodman. "When we have climbed over it, we shall know what is on the other side." After a time the ladder was finished. It looked clumsy, but the Tin Woodman was sure it was strong and would answer their purpose. The Scarecrow waked Dorothy and the Lion and Toto, and told them that the ladder was ready. The Scarecrow climbed up the ladder first, but he was so awkward that Dorothy had to follow close behind and keep him from falling off. When he got his head over the top of the wall the Scarecrow said, "Oh, my!" "Go on," exclaimed Dorothy. So the Scarecrow climbed farther up and sat down on the top of the wall, and Dorothy put her head over and cried, "Oh, my!" just as the Scarecrow had done. Then Toto came up, and immediately began to bark, but Dorothy made him be still. The Lion climbed the ladder next, and the Tin Woodman came last; but both of them cried, "Oh, my!" as soon as they looked over the wall. When they were all sitting in a row on the top of the wall, they looked down and saw a strange sight.', "Before them was a great stretch of country having a floor as smooth and shining and white as the bottom of a big platter. Scattered around were many houses made entirely of china and painted in the brightest colors. These houses were quite small, the biggest of them reaching only as high as Dorothy's waist. There were also pretty little barns, with china fences around them; and many cows and sheep and horses and pigs and chickens, all made of china, were standing about in groups.", "But the strangest of all were the people who lived in this queer country. There were milkmaids and shepherdesses, with brightly colored bodices and golden spots all over their gowns; and princesses with most gorgeous frocks of silver and gold and purple; and shepherds dressed in knee breeches with pink and yellow and blue stripes down them, and golden buckles on their shoes; and princes with jeweled crowns upon their heads, wearing ermine robes and satin doublets; and funny clowns in ruffled gowns, with round red spots upon their cheeks and tall, pointed caps. And, strangest of all, these people were all made of china, even to their clothes, and were so small that the tallest of them was no higher than Dorothy's knee.", 'No one did so much as look at the travelers at first, except one little purple china dog with an extra-large head, which came to the wall and barked at them in a tiny voice, afterwards running away again. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn156.txt b/text/sn156.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2e968e996e9c3d0bec099e4ba4b5cb30f4bb6aa4 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn156.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. 21. The Lion Becomes the King of Beasts "It seems gloomy," said the Scarecrow. "Perhaps there are wild beasts in the forest now," said Dorothy. "What is your trouble?" asked the Lion quietly. The Lion thought for a moment. "Are there any other lions in this forest?" he asked. "Where is this great spider of yours now?" asked the Lion. "You need fear your enemy no longer." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn157.txt b/text/sn157.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..abbb5d027531f24f4a0d2d4b209fa1a49d8546ad --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn157.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. 22. The Country of the Quadlings "Who are you?" asked the Scarecrow. "What can we do, then?" she asked. "What are your commands?" inquired the King of the Monkeys, bowing low. "How far is it to the Castle of Glinda?" asked the child. "Why have you come to the South Country?" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn158.txt b/text/sn158.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..96cf35fce91726fdfe4372b97bd98ff51950df22 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn158.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha', "Glinda The Good Witch Grants Dorothy's Wish", 'When they were all quite presentable they followed the soldier girl into a big room where the Witch Glinda sat upon a throne of rubies. She was both beautiful and young to their eyes. Her hair was a rich red in color and fell in flowing ringlets over her shoulders. Her dress was pure white but her eyes were blue, and they looked kindly upon the little girl. "What can I do for you, my child?" she asked. Dorothy told the Witch all her story: how the cyclone had brought her to the Land of Oz, how she had found her companions, and of the wonderful adventures they had met with. "My greatest wish now," she added, "is to get back to Kansas, for Aunt Em will surely think something dreadful has happened to me, and that will make her put on mourning; and unless the crops are better this year than they were last, I am sure Uncle Henry cannot afford it." Glinda leaned forward and kissed the sweet, upturned face of the loving little girl. "Bless your dear heart," she said, "I am sure I can tell you of a way to get back to Kansas." Then she added, "But, if I do, you must give me the Golden Cap." "Willingly!" exclaimed Dorothy; "indeed, it is of no use to me now, and when you have it you can command the Winged Monkeys three times." "And I think I shall need their service just those three times," answered Glinda, smiling. Dorothy then gave her the Golden Cap, and the Witch said to the Scarecrow, "What will you do when Dorothy has left us?" "I will return to the Emerald City," he replied, "for Oz has made me its ruler and the people like me. The only thing that worries me is how to cross the hill of the Hammer-Heads." "By means of the Golden Cap I shall command the Winged Monkeys to carry you to the gates of the Emerald City," said Glinda, "for it would be a shame to deprive the people of so wonderful a ruler." "Am I really wonderful?" asked the Scarecrow. "You are unusual," replied Glinda. Turning to the Tin Woodman, she asked, "What will become of you when Dorothy leaves this country?" Then the Witch looked at the big, shaggy Lion and asked, "When Dorothy has returned to her own home, what will become of you?" "My third command to the Winged Monkeys," said Glinda, "shall be to carry you to your forest. Then, having used up the powers of the Golden Cap, I shall give it to the King of the Monkeys, that he and his band may thereafter be free for evermore." The Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman and the Lion now thanked the Good Witch earnestly for her kindness; and Dorothy exclaimed: "You are certainly as good as you are beautiful! But you have not yet told me how to get back to Kansas." "Your Silver Shoes will carry you over the desert," replied Glinda. "If you had known their power you could have gone back to your Aunt Em the very first day you came to this country." "But then I should not have had my wonderful brains!" cried the Scarecrow. "I might have passed my whole life in the farmer\'s cornfield." "And I should not have had my lovely heart," said the Tin Woodman. "I might have stood and rusted in the forest till the end of the world." "And I should have lived a coward forever," declared the Lion, "and no beast in all the forest would have had a good word to say to me." "This is all true," said Dorothy, "and I am glad I was of use to these good friends. But now that each of them has had what he most desired, and each is happy in having a kingdom to rule besides, I think I should like to go back to Kansas." "If that is so," said the child joyfully, "I will ask them to carry me back to Kansas at once." Glinda the Good stepped down from her ruby throne to give the little girl a good-bye kiss, and Dorothy thanked her for all the kindness she had shown to her friends and herself. Dorothy now took Toto up solemnly in her arms, and having said one last good-bye she clapped the heels of her shoes together three times, saying: "Take me home to Aunt Em!" Instantly she was whirling through the air, so swiftly that all she could see or feel was the wind whistling past her ears. The Silver Shoes took but three steps, and then she stopped so suddenly that she rolled over upon the grass several times before she knew where she was. At length, however, she sat up and looked about her. "Good gracious!" she cried. For she was sitting on the broad Kansas prairie, and just before her was the new farmhouse Uncle Henry built after the cyclone had carried away the old one. Uncle Henry was milking the cows in the barnyard, and Toto had jumped out of her arms and was running toward the barn, barking furiously. Dorothy stood up and found she was in her stocking-feet. For the Silver Shoes had fallen off in her flight through the air, and were lost forever in the desert. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn159.txt b/text/sn159.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..42cf4380630c1546c6270f022b09411e413be980 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn159.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The final chapter, read by Natasha. 24. Home Again "My darling child!" she cried, folding the little girl in her arms and covering her face with kisses. "Where in the world did you come from?" "From the Land of Oz," said Dorothy gravely. "And here is Toto, too. And oh, Aunt Em! I\'m so glad to be at home again!" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn16.txt b/text/sn16.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c75bac446d86e95af2e894873719966f48624846 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn16.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +All witches have to keep secrets, but Katie’s mother is perhaps too secretive for her own good. The story ends on a cliff-hanger (it’s a bit of a soap). Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Katie and Mr. New Hello, This is Natasha And this is the latest story about Katie, the ordinary witch. Some people have been asking us what ever happened to Katie’s dad. I do seem to recall that we mentioned him in the first story – as well as a family dog – and we’ve forgotten all about them both ever since. Well this story might explain things just a bit. And by the way, Bertie says that it’s rather more romantic than usual. Katie was just a little bit putout. Her mother was going to the theatre without her. This was very strange, because Katie and her mum always did everything together. Great-Aunt Chloe came to stay the night. “You wouldn’t want to be a gooseberry,” she told a glum-looking Katie. “No,” thought Katie, “and I wouldn’t want to be a strawberry either. What strange things my relatives say sometimes!” It was only later, when Katie was lying in bed, that she twigged: “Oh I get it. Mum’s found a boyfriend! That’s why she’s been so secretive recently.” A moonbeam did a little dance on the window sill to say, “Yes, Katie, you slowcoach, why didn’t you think of that before?” You see, Katie’s dad had upped and left some years ago. He was a professor at the Institute of Paranormal Phenomena and he thought that his home life was just a bit too much like his work life. So it was probably about time that Katie’s mum found another man. At breakfast time, Katie said to her mum: “How was your evening?” but all she could get out of her was, “It was a very nice Midsummer Night’s Dream.” It was only two day’s later that Katie’s suspicions were finally confirmed. She was standing in row for school assembly when her best friend Isis whispered: “Katie, is it true that there’s a Mr. New in your mum’s life?” “Search me,” said Katie, her cheeks reddening. “I’d be the last person she would tell. Anyway, why do you ask?” But then they had to be silent, because the Headmistress was climbing up onto her podium. All through the long assembly, full of boring notices and school sports results, Katie fidgeted uneasily. Eventually, as they shuffled out to the classroom, Isabelle sidled up to her and said: “Katie, everyone except you knows that your mum is going out with an estate agent.” “An ESTATE AGENT!” exclaimed Katie. “You really didn’t know?” asked Isis rather baffled. “My mum thought you were moving house, because she kept on seeing your mum popping into the estate agent’s office. Then she saw her hanging onto his arm and laughing as they came out of the park!” Katie went bright red. She didn’t know why she felt so humiliated, but she did. “And he’s Indian too,” said Isabelle. “So! “ said Katie defensively. “Nothing wrong with that,” said Isabelle. But there’s plenty wrong with selling houses. My dad says that estate agents are slimy toads. He says that you can tell if an estate agent is lying, because his mouth is open.” Katie wasn’t just angry with her mother. She was a seething cauldron of rage. That evening she exploded with fury and tears: “You’re romancing an Indian Estate Agent and you don’t say a word to me! The whole school knows about it except for me…. it’s just so, so humiliating! “ “I’m so sorry darling,” said her mother, quite white with shock. “It’s all very early days, and I didn’t want to say anything because most probably, it will all come to nothing.” Finally, after plenty of hugs and tears, Katie calmed down and said: “Ok mum. I forgive you. So tell me about your Mr. New.” “Well his name is Shumash,” her mother said, “And I like him because he’s very spiritual.” “A spiritual estate agent?” thought Katie. “I bet.” And then another obvious thought popped into her head: “And I don’t suppose you’ve mentioned to him that we’re witches..” “Of course not,” said her mother pertly. “As soon as a man gets a hint of that, he runs off like a scared rabbit. He knows I sell magical things of course, but he thinks they are just nice spiritual products – you know, mandrake bath aromas, and and nettle teas. He has no idea about the stuff I keep at the back of the shop.” “You mean like the broomsticks and packets of frozen spiders?” “Well yes. I wouldn’t show him those, would I? Now look Katie. You’ll have to meet him soon. He’s a really, really lovely man, and I do so hope you will like him. But not a hint of magic! Do you promise faithfully?” Katie shuffled and thought : “Why would I want to do magic for him anyway?” and she said: “Yes of course mum.” It was getting towards the end of the Summer Term, and that meant that Sports day was coming up. It was the one school event a year when as many dads as mums came watch and support their children. And It was a time when Katie’s mum felt especially single. She imagined that people were thinking “She’s on her own because she’s a witch, and nobody normal would want to live with her.” She made a big decision. She asked Shumash to come with her to Sports Day. Everybody would see him. Nobody could say that he was a secret in her life. When Katie was lining up to take part in the 100 metre relay race, she heard someone call out: “Go on Katie,” she looked up and saw an Indian man sitting next to her mum: She thought “That’s him!” and as she took the baton and ran off she was thinking, “He doesn’t look that bad after all.” Katie didn’t win any medals. If she had done, people would have accused her of cheating with magic. By tradition, the last race of the day was a special one for the fathers. They all pretended not to care who won, but in fact, some of them were quite competitive about it. In the weeks before, they had been training in the park, so as to look good in front of their families. Isis’s mum – who was also single – said “Shumash – are you going to take part?” and Katie’s mum said, “Yes, Katie would like that,” which just goes to show how quite often, parents don’t understand their children at all. “I’m not really a sportsman at all,” said Shumash modestly.. but as two women were urging him on, he agreed to join the line-up. He wasn’t even wearing running shoes – just sandals. “Oh no,” thought Katie when she saw him stand up. “Please don’t do that. You don’t look like much of an athlete. And you’re not my dad.” Mrs Hepworth fired the starter’s gun, and the dads sprinted off for one lap of the 400 metre track. At first Shumash looked like he was going to be left behind. Samantha’s father was out in front, bounding along on long legs, and Susan’s more stocky dad was in second place. But on the final bend, Shumash started to accelerate. He went past the other runners as if he was flying. You should have seen his face as he ran through the winning tape. He was as astonished as anyone. Katie looked up at her mum in the spectator’s stand. She had never seen her quite so excited and not really very ladylike. She was jumping up and down and waving her fist and shouting “Shumash, Shumash!” “Oh no! How embarrassing! ” thought Katie. “I don’t know what’s got into her. That’s not like mum at all.” Shumash jogged over to Katie and said: “Pleased to meet you, Katie. Your mum’s told me so much about you.” Katie didn’t really know what to say, so she replied: “Well done in the race.” “I’m sure I wouldn’t run like that normally,” he said. “You’re mum inspired me. She’s such a special woman. Everything seems to go right for me when she’s around. I trust it does for you too.” Katie just smiled. Shumash said: “Well lovely to speak to you at long last. Have a blessed day.” And Katie thought, “I suppose he said that because he’s spiritual.” After school, Katie said to her mother in the car: “Shumash was very speedy,” and her mum smiled and looked happy. “I don’t suppose he had any help… mused Katie…”of the magical kind.” By the way her mum went red, Katie understood everything. “And what other help have you been giving him? He said everything’s been going well for him ever since he met you…” “Oh you know, a little nudge along for his business. When his customers aren’t quite sure about buying a house, a little sprinkling of magic can make up their minds.” Katie was horrified : “Mum! You’d never do that to your own customers!” “I know,” sighed her mother. “I can’t stop myself. He’s just such a nice guy.” Katie shook her head and thought, “She can’t help herself. She can only help others.” The following Saturday, Katie’s mum was going to meet Shumash’s family. “Mum, why are you in such a fluster?” asked Katie as she watched her mother smudge her lipstick. “Oh I think it’s make or break,” she replied. “His grandmother is the head of the family and she’s very traditional. I’m not Indian and Shumash is younger than me. I don’t have a dowry…” she laughed nervously as she said that… “She’ll probably say I’m not right for him.” “So..” said Katie. “What she says matters a lot to Shumash,” replied her mum. “Well just use a little magic,” said Katie. “Oh I couldn’t do that. I want her to accept me as I am, not because she’s under a spell.” And Katie sighed. She knew her mum was just hopeless. And she wasn’t entirely surprised when three hours later, she came back through the front door in silence, went into the kitchen, sat down, and burst into tears. Great Aunt Chloe put her arm around her and said: “Oh come dear. It can’t have been that bad. What happened?” “His Grandmother told him I’m a witch,” she said. “She knew right away. He’s furious.” “That you’re a witch?” asked Katie. “No. That I didn’t tell him,” sobbed her mother. “He says he can’t trust me if I keep such an important thing secret from him.” “Oh mum,” sighed Katie, “If only you knew how to break a secret.” And that’s the story of Katie and Mr. New. For now, from me, Natasha Bye Bye. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn160.txt b/text/sn160.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7c773c6fd6afdf81c0be2707dd8be600cf2b638c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn160.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The second chapter of The Secret Garden takes Mary from India, to the grey skies of England. Before she leaves, she acquires a nickname that discribes her character, Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary. Read by Natasha. CHAPTER II MISTRESS MARY QUITE CONTRARY "Go away!" cried Mary. "I don\'t want boys. Go away!" "I am glad of it, too," answered Mary. "Where is home?" "I don\'t know anything about him," snapped Mary. So she packed her small trunk and made the journey. "No," said Mary. "Never heard your father and mother talk about him?" "Well," said Mrs. Medlock. "What do you think of it?" "Nothing," she answered. "I know nothing about such places." That made Mrs. Medlock laugh a short sort of laugh. "Eh!" she said, "but you are like an old woman. Don\'t you care?" "It doesn\'t matter" said Mary, "whether I care or not." She stopped herself as if she had just remembered something in time. Mary gave a little involuntary jump. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn161.txt b/text/sn161.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..cfd2a260e117f5824d9cebbee85b95a7bb3838df --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn161.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Mistress Mary travels across the black Yorkshire Moors to an uncertain future. Read by Natasha. CHAPTER III ACROSS THE MOOR "Well enow. Th\' carriage is waitin\' outside for thee." "What is a moor?" she said suddenly to Mrs. Medlock. "Eh! We\'re on the moor now sure enough," said Mrs. Medlock. Mrs. Medlock said unceremoniously: \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn162.txt b/text/sn162.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..478451b452aa5a2e2f970643a9201555330a3b6c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn162.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Mary is holding a key - could it be the key to the Secret Garden? And if so, where is the door? Maybe her friend the garden robin can help. THE ROBIN WHO SHOWED THE WAY Mary reflected a little. "I don\'t want a governess," said Mary sharply. Mary gave her a long, steady look. "You do cheer me up," she said. "I like to hear you talk." "What is it for?" she asked curiously. Mary got up from her chair beginning to feel excited herself. Mary looked stiffer than ever. "Do you want me to kiss you?" Martha laughed again. She was standing inside the secret garden. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn163.txt b/text/sn163.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fb8621e2dd41f4415730051a7b42abc196a09ee5 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn163.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. THE STRANGEST HOUSE ANY ONE EVER LIVED IN "How still it is!" she whispered. "How still!" "Martha," she said, "what are those white roots that look like onions?"', "Martha's face quite lighted up.", '"Were they?" said Mary. "How many things she knows, doesn\'t she?" "How much would a spade cost--a little one?" Mary asked. "Did he remember thee that much?" exclaimed Martha. "What?" said Mary eagerly. "I know how to write," Mary answered. Martha shook her head. "How shall I get the things when Dickon buys them?" "He\'ll bring \'em to you himself. He\'ll like to walk over this way." "Do you mean--" Mary began. Martha certainly started slightly. "What makes thee ask that?" she said. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn164.txt b/text/sn164.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fef31424a82060e896fc2fc70cf6cdfe21aae3ac --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn164.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. "He\'s friends with me now," said Mary. "How long has tha\' been here?" he jerked out. "I think it\'s about a month," she answered. "Oh! look at him!" exclaimed Mary. "Have you a garden of your own?" she asked. "No. I\'m bachelder an\' lodge with Martin at th\' gate." "If you had one," said Mary, "what would you plant?" "Cabbages an\' \'taters an\' onions." "Bulbs an\' sweet-smellin\' things--but mostly roses."', "Mary's face lighted up.", '"Do you like roses?" she said. Ben Weatherstaff rooted up a weed and threw it aside before he answered. "Where is she now?" asked Mary, much interested. "They was left to themselves." Mary was becoming quite excited. Mistress Mary felt her face grow red. She was almost afraid to answer. "Do you go and see those other roses now?" she asked. "I\'m Dickon," the boy said. "I know tha\'rt Miss Mary." "Did you get Martha\'s letter?" she asked. He nodded his curly, rust-colored head. "That\'s why I come." "Will you show the seeds to me?" Mary said. "Let us sit down on this log and look at them," she said. "Where\'s that robin as is callin\' us?" he said. "Is it really calling us?" she asked. "Aye, he\'s a friend o\' yours," chuckled Dickon. "Do you understand everything birds say?" said Mary. "Tha\'s got a bit o\' garden, hasn\'t tha\'?" Dickon said. "Wouldn\'t they give thee a bit?" he asked. "Hasn\'t tha\' got any yet?" She held her hands tighter and turned her eyes toward him. She began to feel hot and as contrary as she had ever felt in her life. "Come with me and I\'ll show you," she said. Dickon looked round and round about it, and round and round again. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn165.txt b/text/sn165.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9d48cdf1b4b95c74a1858f13947b71f79322d101 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn165.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +THE NEST OF THE MISSEL THRUSH "I never thought I\'d see this place," he said at last, in a whisper. "Did you know about it?" asked Mary. She had spoken aloud and he made a sign to her. Mistress Mary put her hand on his arm again without knowing it. "Eh! No! Not them--not all of \'em!" he answered. "Look here!" "That one?" she said. "Is that one quite alive quite?" Dickon curved his wide smiling mouth. Mary was down on her knees before he spoke, gazing with all her might.', "It was one of Mary's own little clearings round the pale green points.", '"I did it," said Mary. "Why, I thought tha\' didn\'t know nothin\' about gardenin\'," he exclaimed. Dickon went and knelt down by them, smiling his wide smile. He ran from one clearing to another. "But how could it have been done?" said Mary. He was examining a branch of a standard rose and he shook his head. "Are there any flowers that look like bells?" she inquired. "They used to dance round and sing at me. They sang-- "I wasn\'t as contrary as they were." But Dickon laughed. "Only five folk as tha\' likes?" he said. "Who is th\' other four?" "Does tha\' like me?" she said. "That\'s two, then," said Mary. "That\'s two for me." Dickon grinned. Mary thought it looked a queer dinner, but he seemed ready to enjoy it. He sat down with his back against a tree. "Whatever happens, you--you never would tell?" she said. And she was quite sure she was. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn166.txt b/text/sn166.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2f6afe2ca149cc7143d69a66b62c99f41ce82a83 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn166.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Mary and Dickon meet up in the garden and watch the robin build his nest. Read by Natasha. NEST BUILDING "I don\'t care what she thought," said Colin, frowning. "Would you hate it if--if a boy looked at you?" Mary asked uncertainly. He lay back on his cushion and paused thoughtfully. "I\'m sure you wouldn\'t mind him," said Mary. What Mary felt afterward was that she need not fear about Dickon. A sudden thought made her scramble to her feet. "I can\'t wait! I am going to see the garden!" Mary flew across the grass to him. "Oh, Dickon! Dickon!" she said. "I\'m so happy I can scarcely breathe!" He looked puzzled but smiled. "Well--do you know about Colin?" she whispered. He turned his head to look at her. "What does tha\' know about him?" he asked. "Don\'t you like hiding the garden?" said Mary. Mary always wanted to hear about mother. "What did she say?" she asked, not at all afraid to hear. Dickon grinned sweet-temperedly. "How did you know about Colin?" asked Mary. "Do you think he wants to die?" whispered Mary. Mary looked and caught her breath a little.', "Dickon was thinking very hard as he scratched Captain's back.", 'Dickon laughed too and went on talking. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn167.txt b/text/sn167.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..cb46f33d9bc72f68c4f8e6080327e9a995e7e270 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn167.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Our very special reading of The Secret Garden continues. Read by Natasha. "I WON\'T!" SAID MARY Martha looked rather frightened. Mary was glowing with exercise and good spirits. "It\'ll be fine tomorrow," said Dickon. "I\'ll be at work by sunrise." "So will I," said Mary. "Why didn\'t you get up?" she said. "You\'ll have to if I want you," said Colin. "I won\'t!" said Mary. "I\'ll make you," said Colin. "They shall drag you in." "You are a selfish thing!" cried Colin.', "Mary's eyes flashed fire.", '"You\'re not!" contradicted Mary unsympathetically. "I\'m not?" he cried. "I am! You know I am! Everybody says so." "What are you laughing at?" she asked her. "Is he going to die?" "What are hysterics?" asked Mary. She stood still, looking down at the carpet and thinking. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn168.txt b/text/sn168.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6ef8e7ccb948dca97ee9dab1b2948dda0c426bf8 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn168.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Mary might not be the most soft-hearted of girls, but she is a good person to sooth a tantrum. Read by Natasha. A TANTRUM "I can\'t stop!" he gasped and sobbed. "I can\'t--I can\'t!" "Nurse," she commanded, "come here and show me his back this minute!" "Perhaps he--he won\'t let me," she hesitated in a low voice. Colin heard her, however, and he gasped out between two sobs: "Sh-show her! She-she\'ll see then!" "C-could you?" he said pathetically. "Yes, sir." "There!" said Mary, and she gulped too. "Do you think--I could--live to grow up?" he said. "Very well," answered Mary. "Yes," answered Mary. "Shut your eyes." And Colin was asleep. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn169.txt b/text/sn169.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b2893ba451ce7d89aae8bd8ae92a012c18ae946e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn169.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Storynory's one and only Natasha.", '"IT HAS COME!" "Fresh air won\'t tire me," said the young Rajah. "I thought you did not like fresh air," he said. "And the nurse, of course?" suggested Dr. Craven. "Did Dickon teach you that?" asked Dr. Craven, laughing outright. "Well, sir," she ventured, "could you have believed it?" Mrs. Medlock smiled. She was fond of Susan Sowerby. "She\'s a shrewd woman," said Dr. Craven, putting on his coat. Mary was at his bedside again. "Are you sure you are not chilly, Master Colin?" she inquired. "Yes, sir," she answered. "I hope the animals won\'t bite, Master Colin," said the nurse. "Goodness!" shuddered the nurse. He was not long in coming. In about ten minutes Mary held up her hand. "Listen!" she said. "Did you hear a caw?" "Yes," he answered. "Oh, yes!" cried Colin, quite flushing. "That\'s the new-born lamb," said Mary. "He\'s coming." "What is it doing?" cried Colin. "What does it want?" He knelt down by the sofa and took a feeding-bottle from his pocket. "I\'m going to see them," cried Colin. "I am going to see them!" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn17.txt b/text/sn17.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b13ad11572a4ad1050948ccaa5a66df59fd9a530 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn17.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Pondlife agree that Princess Beatrice is the sweetest princess who ever lived in the entire history of the universe (Only Colin the Grumpy Carp disputes this fact). She is so kind to children and fluffy bunny rabbits that she makes her wicked stepmother feel quite sick just thinking about her. But did you know, that when Beatrice was just a teenage princess in training, she entered a sweetest princess competition? Up until now, the inside story has been kept secret, but Sadie the Swan has persuaded Bertie to reveal all.', "The other day, I was just sitting in the orchard watching the wind blow through the trees, when I caught sight of the lovely Princess Beatrice. She had come down to the palace to feed bread to the greedy little ducklings who live in the pond. (quack) Sadie, the beautiful black swan didn't join in the unseemly rush for soggy food. Instead, she sat elegantly on the water, watching Princess Beatrice. Everyone who lives on the pond knows that there is no greater admirer of royalty than Sadie the Swan.", '"Oh my!" She sighed. "Isn\'t Princess Beatricejust the sweetest creature who ever lived?" Now apart from me, the only person to hear Sadie say this, was Colin the grumpy carp, and he lost no time in answering her question. "Rubbish," he said, sticking his not too pretty face out of the water. "That Beatrice is just putting on a show. She only pretends to be sweet to fool the masses and the dumb pond life." Now there are times when Sadie would have turned and hissed at Colin so fiercely that he would have dived straight for the bottom of the pond, but she had to keep up appearances in the presence of somebody as lovely and royal as Princess Beatrice, and so she held her elegant neck aloft and ignored him, until Bertie the frog came hopping along from lily pad to lily pad. As you most probably know, before he was a frog, Bertie used to be a handsome prince, and was engaged to be married to Princess Beatrice. Bertie is therefore considered to be something of an expert on all matters royal. "Bertie," said Sadie, "Tell this ignorant fish that Princess Beatrice is the loveliest and sweetest princess in the entire universe." "Well of course," boomed Bertie. "Everybody knows that." "How do they know? Grumped Colin. "She\'s most probably just pretending to be sweet, because her Public Relations manager told to act that way. In my view, this royal thing is all just a sham. Royalty are no better thanthe rest of us. No better than the silliest tadpoles in the pond." "I know because she told me," answered Bertie. "And besides, I heard all about the Sweetest Princess Contest she took part in when she was just a teenage trainee princess." "Oh, do tell us about it Bertie," said Sadie. "Well," he hesitated, "The inside story is supposed to be a secret." Sadie huffed, "Dear frog. There are no secrets on this pond." "What about your age?" Grumped Colin the Carp, a question which Sadie ignored. So Bertie started to tell the story of the Sweetest Princess. I pricked up my ears, because I thought it might be very interesting.', "Some years ago, when Princess Beatrice was still just a teenager, she lived in the palace with her father, the king, who was nice but very busy in the office, what with being king and everything, and also with her stepmother, who wasn't so nice.", 'Princess Beatrice was the sweetest little princess who ever lived. She spent her entire day combing her collection of pink and white fluffy bunnies, and raising money to help look after small animals. Now, one day Beatrice\'s stepmother read in the newspaper that a television company was organising a competition called "Who is the Sweetest Princess?"', "The prize was to be a free holiday on the most luxurious ten star beach resort in the entire world. Beatrice's stepmother really, really wanted to go on that holiday.", 'The stepmother said to herself, "Beatrice is so sweet that she makes my back tooth ache just looking at her. Every time she smiles with those dimply little cheeks, I want to throw up. She couldn\'t fail to win that competition." And so turning to young Beatrice she said, "Beatrice,enter that competition right away, and make sure you don\'t lose." Beatrice, who was not at all sure that she wanted to appear on television, especially as she thought the king would say that the programme was rather cheap and nasty, and not at all royal, said, "Dearest stepmother. Please excuse me. I would rather not." The stepmother who was secretly furious, put on her sweetest smile, which actually wasn\'t very sweet at all, and said to Beatrice, "Please please, Beatrice. Pretty Please, with pink bows, and fluffy knots on it." Beatrice was rather surprised to hear her stepmother speak to her so nicely, as it wasn\'t her usual way at all, and she and looked up from the pair of pink earmuffs that she was knitting for her favourite bunny. "Well, maybe." The stepmother smiled again, so that Beatrice could see her gold-capped teeth, and she said, "Ohgo on Beatrice, please please, pretty please, with pink bows, and fluffy knots, and strawberries and cream on it." "Oh well, alright then," said Beatrice, still not quite sure that it was a good idea. The stepmother was very pleased with this result, and said to herself, "And when she wins the holiday, as she most certainly will, I will put a spell on Beatrice so she gets a tummy ache and has to stay behind. It will be just wonderful to get away fromthe horrid children for a whole month." But as the day of the contest drew nearer, the stepmother began to have doubts. She saw a picture of the two other contestants, Princess Daisy and Princess Theodora, and if anything they looked even more curly, dimply and revoltingly sweet than Beatrice. "Now listen," she said to Beatrice, as the maid combed her long golden hair, "Just remember one thing. If in doubt, cheat. Here\'s a mobile phone. If you need anything, just send me a text and I\'ll put a spell on those other two nasty little princesses and make them come out in pulsating warts." "Oh no, dear stepmother," replied Beatrice. "I couldn\'t take a mobile phone with me. It\'s against the rules of the competition." "Hopeless, just hopeless," said the wicked stepmother under her breath.', "The idea of the competition was that three princesses would be placed inside a huge palace - and the audience at home would decide which of them was the sweetest, kindest princess in the whole wide world. Except it wasn't really a palace at all - more like a lot of cardboard painted pink.", "Inside the cardboard palace, there were bright lights and remote TV cameras that followed the three contestants' every move. It was very strange, and Beatrice didn't feel comfortable. She was a bit afraid. She'd never been on television before, and when she thought hard about it, she really wasn't so sure she was the sweetest princess after all. Fortunately, she had brought her softest, cuddliest toy with her to cheer herself up.", 'She waved faintly at the camera that had a little red light shining on it and said, "Hello everybody. My only wish is that the sweetest princess should win fair and square." "Thank you dearest Beatrice," said Princess Daisy, who had two great red ribbons in her hair, "It is very gracious of you to wish me luck."', "Neither Daisy or Theodora seemed very friendly, and Beatrice wasn't sure they were sweet at all, but she didn't like to say anything. Before the first test, they were given juice and biscuits, but when the camera wasn't looking Theodora poured salt into Beatrice's juice, so that when she took a sip she spluttered and grimaced most unsweetly.", '"Oh dear dear dear, dearest Beatrice, let me pat you gently on the back," said Theodora, smiling sweetly to the camera. Back home in the real palace, the wicked queen was watching all this on television, and cursing the sweet stupidity of her stepdaughter. Now the competition began for real. The first task was to find a small animal to help. The three princesses stood at the beginning of the garden path. "Nobody is sweeter than me," wailed Daisy. "Not, not, not…" "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, no one is as sweet, as sweet as me," cried Theodora. Daisy ran down the path - and came back with a floppy little bunny rabbit, and started feeding it scraps of lettuce. Theodora ran down to the pond, and came back with a yellow fluffy duckling - and fed it little pieces of freshly baked French bread.', "When Beatrice went out to the garden she couldn't find any animals to help - and she came back with nothing at all.", 'Back home, in the living room of the palace, the stepmother screeched, "Curses! Drat! "My magic won\'t work with all those bright lights and electric cables around the place, or I would soon turn those two little princesses into slithering worms or slimy snails." On the second day, the princesses had to raise some money for charity. Daisy went out to the street and set up a collection point - and by the end of the day had raised loads of money. Theodora set up a donation hotline - and by the end of the day had raised even more.', "But Beatrice couldn't find anyone to raise money from - and so at the end of the day she had nothing.", '"You\'re just useless, useless, useless," cried Daisy. "You\'re not sweet, you\'re sour," laughed Theodora.', "And they both went away giggling. Beatrice lay awake half the night. She didn't mind about the stupid competition, but she was worried about leaving the real animal rescue home that she kept at the palace. She just wished that the Television Director would throw her out of the competition early so that she could go back home.", 'Then, on the third and final day of the contest, the princesses had to open a very important building. Daisy was whisked away in a carriage to open a new hospital - and then toured the building, talking very sweetly to the sick children. Theodora was whisked off in a big car to open a new school - and spent the day very sweetly helping all the little children with their homework.', "But Beatrice couldn't find anything to open except for a new rubbish dump, and she wasn't sure that was going to look very good at all.", 'Still, she started walking towards the dump, even though it was a bit smelly. But just as she was approaching, she heard a tiny squeaking sound. She looked down and there was a small rat. And she could see that he had broken his foot. "Oh dear," said Beatrice, picking up the rat. "You\'re in terrible pain. I\'d better take you back and get that fixed." "But you\'re supposed to open the rubbish dump," said the rat. "I can\'t just leave you." So she took the rat back to the palace, and bandagedhis leg, and gave it a piece of cheese to make him feel better. When Theodora and Daisy came back they looked at the rat, and screamed. "Get that horrid horrid creature out of here," shouted Daisy. "But he\'s hurt," said Beatrice. "I don\'t care," interrupted Theodora, stamping her foot. "I don\'t, I don\'t, I don\'t…" Just then, the the presenter of the television show came running into the palace clutching a microphone. "You can relax Your Royal Highness\'s. It\'s all over. The viewers at home have voted and chosen the sweetest princess." "I\'m the sweetest," said Daisy. "No, no, I\'m the sweetest," said Theodora.', "Beatrice just remained silent, because it seemed to her she hadn't done very well in the competition at all.", 'The TV presenter looked at Theodora and she said, "Our secret camera filmed how you arranged for that animal to be placed in the garden, just so you would look good in the competition." And she looked at Daisy, and said, "And all the viewers saw how you arranged for lots of people to donate to your charity, just so you would look good in the competition." Then she looked at Beatrice, and said, "The only person here who has done a kind, unselfish thing, and thought of others before themselves is you. The entire world loves you. Who could help but love such a sweet princess? You are the winner, Beatrice." She was so happy, she even gave the rat a hug. She looked across at Daisy and Theodora, and even though she knew it was a bit naughty, and not very sweet at all, stuck out her tongue and said, "Nah, nah, na-na-nah." And do you know what? Even the wicked stepmother cheered and thought, just for a moment, what a clever daughter she had. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn170.txt b/text/sn170.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..571ea9daf3baddabb31ed44e430097eda96890fb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn170.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +"I SHALL LIVE FOREVER--AND EVER--AND EVER!" "Let\'s hope they\'re changing for the better, Mrs. Medlock," he answered. "Here is Mr. Roach, Master Colin," said Mrs. Medlock. "You say, \'You have my permission to go,\'" answered Mary. The Rajah waved his hand. "Caw--Caw!" remarked the crow hoarsely but not impolitely. "Perhaps he\'ll grow out of it, if he lives," suggested Mr. Roach. Inside the room Colin was leaning back on his cushions. "I can\'t help thinking about what it will look like," he answered. "The garden?" asked Mary. "I never saw it in India because there wasn\'t any," said Mary. "That\'s what I thought," said Mary. Then there was a lovely breathless silence and the chair wheeled on. "That is the garden where Ben Weatherstaff works," said Mary. "Is it?" said Colin. A few yards more and Mary whispered again. "This is where the robin flew over the wall," she said. "Is it?" cried Colin. "Oh! I wish he\'d come again!" Then Colin sat up. "Oh! is it--is it!" gasped Colin. And Dickon did it with one strong, steady, splendid push. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn171.txt b/text/sn171.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..8e540be781c12527bbf802d4896bc9d954d7f3a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn171.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +A lyrical and powerful chapter in which Colin has a surprise for Ben Weatherstaff. Read by Natasha. "I wonder if we shall see the robin?" said Colin. Mary gazed at the tree and thought. Mary still gazed at the tree and thought. And so they were safe. "Aye, that we mun," had answered Mary. Colin flushed tremendously. "Walk!" he said. "Dig! Shall I?"', "Mary was rather frightened until she heard Colin's answer.", 'Both Mary and Dickon drew a relieved breath. "Who is that man?" Dickon and Mary scrambled to their feet. "Man!" they both cried in low quick voices. "Do you know who I am?" demanded the Rajah. "I\'m not a cripple!" he cried out furiously. "I\'m not!" "Tha\'--tha\' hasn\'t got a crooked back?" he said hoarsely. "No!" shouted Colin. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn172.txt b/text/sn172.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..3d8be410d844cf4b673e031680bd2ca37e966076 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn172.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Ben Weatherstaff reveals that he too has been keeping a secret. Read by Natasha. When his head was out of sight Colin turned to Mary. "Yes, I\'ve stopped," said Colin. Then suddenly he remembered something Mary had said. "Are you making Magic?" he asked sharply.', "Dickon's curly mouth spread in a cheerful grin.", 'He drew himself up straighter than ever. But she did not tell him. What she was saying was this: "Half-witted!" said Colin angrily. "Who thought that?" "Everyone thought I was going to die," said Colin shortly. "I\'m not!" The Rajah condescended to seat himself on a rug under the tree. "What work do you do in the gardens, Weatherstaff?" he inquired. "She?" said Colin. "Tha\' mother," answered Ben Weatherstaff.', "Ben Weatherstaff's face twisted itself in a dry old smile.", '"I\'ve come here before when no one saw me," he said. "What!" exclaimed Colin. "When?" "But no one has been in it for ten years!" cried Colin. "There was no door!" "Go and get it!" said Colin, digging excitedly. "Quick! Quick!" "I want to do it before the sun goes quite--quite down," he said. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn173.txt b/text/sn173.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..4be1e67b6b710465d2067aea5324b3015220ed42 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn173.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +MAGIC "What are you looking at me for?" he said. "I\'m thinking that I am rather sorry for Dr. Craven." "Am I rude?" Colin inquired undisturbedly. "But he daren\'t," said Colin. Colin turned his head, frowning. "Am I queer?" he demanded. "It\'s Magic," said Mary, "but not black. It\'s as white as snow." "Aye, aye, sir!" said Ben Weatherstaff. "Aye, aye!" He smiled now and his smile was wider than usual. Colin turned and looked at him--into his innocent round eyes. "Now I am going to walk round the garden," he announced. "You have been asleep," said Colin. He was not quite awake yet. "You\'re not in church," said Colin. The Rajah waved his hand. "I\'d like to see thee walk round the garden," grunted Ben. "What will Dr. Craven say?" broke out Mary. "He\'ll be obliged to believe them," he said. Colin fixed his eyes on him sternly. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn174.txt b/text/sn174.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..93f05b1f55e015333cfc98407e6cbc4650d550b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn174.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha When the boy began to walk by himself and even to move more quickly it was an immense relief. But for a long time--or it seemed a long time to the robin--he was a source of some anxiety. He did not act as the other humans did. He seemed very fond of walking but he had a way of sitting or lying down for a while and then getting up in a disconcerting manner to begin again.', "When the boy was walking and running about and digging and weeding like the others, the nest in the corner was brooded over by a great peace and content. Fears for the Eggs became things of the past. Knowing that your Eggs were as safe as if they were locked in a bank vault and the fact that you could watch so many curious things going on made setting a most entertaining occupation. On wet days the Eggs' mother sometimes felt even a little dull because the children did not come into the garden.", 'But even on wet days it could not be said that Mary and Colin were dull. One morning when the rain streamed down unceasingly and Colin was beginning to feel a little restive, as he was obliged to remain on his sofa because it was not safe to get up and walk about, Mary had an inspiration. "Now that I am a real boy," Colin had said, "my legs and arms and all my body are so full of Magic that I can\'t keep them still. They want to be doing things all the time. Do you know that when I waken in the morning, Mary, when it\'s quite early and the birds are just shouting outside and everything seems just shouting for joy--even the trees and things we can\'t really hear--I feel as if I must jump out of bed and shout myself. If I did it, just think what would happen!" Mary giggled inordinately. "The nurse would come running and Mrs. Medlock would come running and they would be sure you had gone crazy and they\'d send for the doctor,"she said. It was then Mistress Mary had her inspiration. "Colin," she began mysteriously, "do you know how many rooms there are in this house?" "About a thousand, I suppose," he answered. "There\'s about a hundred no one ever goes into," said Mary. "And one rainy day I went and looked into ever so many of them. No one ever knew, though Mrs. Medlock nearly found me out. I lost my way when I was coming back and I stopped at the end of your corridor. That was the second time I heard you crying." Colin started up on his sofa. "A hundred rooms no one goes into," he said. "It sounds almost like a secret garden. Suppose we go and look at them. Wheel me in my chair and nobody would know we went." "That\'s what I was thinking," said Mary. "No one would dare to follow us. There are galleries where you could run. We could do our exercises. There is a little Indian room where there is a cabinet full of ivory elephants. There are all sorts of rooms." "Ring the bell," said Colin. When the nurse came in he gave his orders. "I want my chair," he said. "Miss Mary and I are going to look at the part of the house which is not used. John can push me as far as the picture-gallery because there are some stairs. Then he must go away and leave us alone until I send for him again." "I am going to run from one end of the gallery to the other," he said, "and then I am going to jump and then we will do Bob Haworth\'s exercises." And they did all these things and many others. They looked at the portraits and found the plain little girl dressed in green brocade and holding the parrot on her finger. "All these," said Colin, "must be my relations. They lived a long time ago. That parrot one, I believe, is one of my great, great, great, great aunts. She looks rather like you, Mary--not as you look now but as you looked when you came here. Now you are a great deal fatter and better looking." "So are you," said Mary, and they both laughed. "I\'m glad we came," Colin said. "I never knew I lived in such a big queer old place. I like it. We will ramble about every rainy day. We shall always be finding new queer corners and things."', "That morning they had found among other things such good appetites that when they returned to Colin's room it was not possible to send the luncheon away untouched.", 'When the nurse carried the tray down-stairs she slapped it down on the kitchen dresser so that Mrs. Loomis, the cook, could see the highly polished dishes and plates. "Look at that!" she said. "This is a house of mystery, and those two children are the greatest mysteries in it." "If they keep that up every day," said the strong young footman John, "there\'d be small wonder that he weighs twice as much to-day as he did a month ago. I should have to give up my place in time, for fear of doing my muscles an injury."', "That afternoon Mary noticed that something new had happened in Colin's room. She had noticed it the day before but had said nothing because she thought the change might have been made by chance. She said nothing today but she sat and looked fixedly at the picture over the mantel. She could look at it because the curtain had been drawn aside. That was the change she noticed.", '"I know what you want me to tell you," said Colin, after she had stared a few minutes. "I always know when you want me to tell you something. You are wondering why the curtain is drawn back. I am going to keep it like that." "Why?" asked Mary. "You are so like her now," said Mary, "that sometimes I think perhaps you are her ghost made into a boy." "If I were her ghost--my father would be fond of me." "Do you want him to be fond of you?" inquired Mary. "I used to hate it because he was not fond of me. If he grew fond of me I think I should tell him about the Magic. It might make him more cheerful." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn175.txt b/text/sn175.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..0544c863f3a6b2f8577f2fd306a081a01ef94360 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn175.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. "What are you thinking about, Ben Weatherstaff?" he asked. "Mary! Dickon!" he cried. "Just look at me!" They stopped their weeding and looked at him. Mary looked hard too, but she said nothing. "Aye, that th\' art!" said Dickon. "What is that?" he inquired. "Dickon can sing it for thee, I\'ll warrant," replied Ben Weatherstaff.', "Dickon answered with his all-perceiving animal charmer's smile.", '"Who is coming in here?" he said quickly. "Who is it?" Susan Sowerby laughed a comfortable laugh. "Do you think he will?" asked Colin. "Why?" Susan Sowerby chuckled softly. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn176.txt b/text/sn176.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..0e09a471165d62f2c3603f1b3f8246278a507f71 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn176.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The final chapter of our classic series is read by Natasha. IN THE GARDEN "I am going to live forever and ever and ever!" "Perhaps," he thought, "my body is growing stronger." "Lilias! Lilias!" he answered. "Lilias! where are you?" "Dear Sir: "I will go back to Misselthwaite," he said. "Yes, I\'ll go at once." "Worse?" he suggested. Mrs. Medlock really was flushed. "Why is that?" "How does he look?" was the next question. "Where is Master Colin now?" Mr. Craven asked. Mr. Craven scarcely heard her last words. "In the garden! In the garden!"', "Colin put out his hand and laid it on his father's arm.", 'And so they led him in. "I thought it would be dead," he said. "Mary thought so at first," said Colin. "But it came alive." "Did you see either of them, Weatherstaff?" she asked. "Aye, that I did," he answered with a shrewdly significant air. "Both of them?" suggested Mrs. Medlock. "Together, ma\'am," and Ben gulped down half of his new mug at one gulp. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn177.txt b/text/sn177.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..71db74f356562cd9f27935f18792fbf186691ac8 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn177.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio comes to Storynory! The Italian children's novel by the Italian writer, Carlo Collodi, was first published in 1883. If you have seen the Disney film of Pinocchio, that does not mean to say you know the story. The original tale is much more interesting and action-packed, with loads of twists and turns. It is also very funny. The talking puppet's adventures are read for Storynory by Natasha in a lively style. We are using the classic translation of Carol Della Chiesa. ", 'Read by Natasha. Centuries ago there lived-- "A king!" my little readers will say immediately. No, children, you are mistaken. Once upon a time there was a piece of wood. It was not an expensive piece of wood. Far from it. Just a common block of firewood, one of those thick, solid logs that are put on the fire in winter to make cold rooms cozy and warm. I do not know how this really happened, yet the fact remains that one fine day this piece of wood found itself in the shop of an old carpenter. His real name was Mastro Antonio, but everyone called him Mastro Cherry, for the tip of his nose was so round and red and shiny that it looked like a ripe cherry. As soon as he saw that piece of wood, Mastro Cherry was filled with joy. Rubbing his hands together happily, he mumbled half to himself: "This has come in the nick of time. I shall use it to make the leg of a table." He grasped the hatchet quickly to peel off the bark and shape the wood. But as he was about to give it the first blow, he stood still with arm uplifted, for he had heard a wee, little voice say in a beseeching tone: "Please be careful! Do not hit me so hard!"', "What a look of surprise shone on Mastro Cherry's face! His funny face became still funnier.", 'He turned frightened eyes about the room to find out where that wee, little voice had come from and he saw no one! He looked under the bench--no one! He peeped inside the closet--no one! He searched among the shavings--no one! He opened the door to look up and down the street--and still no one! "Oh, I see!" he then said, laughing and scratching his Wig. "It can easily be seen that I only thought I heard the tiny voice say the words! Well, well--to work once more." He struck a most solemn blow upon the piece of wood. "Oh, oh! You hurt!" cried the same far-away little voice. Mastro Cherry grew dumb, his eyes popped out of his head, his mouth opened wide, and his tongue hung down on his chin. As soon as he regained the use of his senses, he said, trembling and stuttering from fright: "Where did that voice come from, when there is no one around? Might it be that this piece of wood has learned to weep and cry like a child? I can hardly believe it. Here it is--a piece of common firewood, good only to burn in the stove, the same as any other. Yet--might someone be hidden in it? If so, the worse for him. I\'ll fix him!" With these words, he grabbed the log with both hands and started to knock it about unmercifully. He threw it to the floor, against the walls of the room, and even up to the ceiling. He listened for the tiny voice to moan and cry. He waited two minutes--nothing; five minutes--nothing; ten minutes--nothing. "Oh, I see," he said, trying bravely to laugh and ruffling up his wig with his hand. "It can easily be seen I only imagined I heard the tiny voice! Well, well--to work once more!" The poor fellow was scared half to death, so he tried to sing a gay song in order to gain courage. He set aside the hatchet and picked up the plane to make the wood smooth and even, but as he drew it to and fro, he heard the same tiny voice. This time it giggled as it spoke: "Stop it! Oh, stop it! Ha, ha, ha! You tickle my stomach." This time poor Mastro Cherry fell as if shot. When he opened his eyes, he found himself sitting on the floor. His face had changed; fright had turned even the tip of his nose from red to deepest purple. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn178.txt b/text/sn178.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7d5167e794bfbd9b551826ee61b019927115c56b --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn178.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Two old men have a very childish argument and a block of wood interrupts them. Read by Natasha. Illustrated by Chiara Civati. In that very instant, a loud knock sounded on the door. "Come in," said the carpenter, not having an atom of strength left with which to stand up. At the words, the door opened and a dapper little old man came in. His name was Geppetto, but to the boys of the neighborhood he was Polendina,* on account of the wig he always wore which was just the color of yellow corn. * Cornmeal mush Geppetto had a very bad temper. Woe to the one who called him Polendina! He became as wild as a beast and no one could soothe him. "Good day, Mastro Antonio," said Geppetto. "What are you doing on the floor?" "I am teaching the ants their A B C\'s." "Good luck to you!" "What brought you here, friend Geppetto?" "My legs. And it may flatter you to know, Mastro Antonio, that I have come to you to beg for a favor." "Here I am, at your service," answered the carpenter, raising himself on to his knees. "This morning a fine idea came to me." "Let\'s hear it." "I thought of making myself a beautiful wooden Marionette. It must be wonderful, one that will be able to dance, fence, and turn somersaults. With it I intend to go around the world, to earn my crust of bread and cup of wine. What do you think of it?" "Bravo, Polendina!" cried the same tiny voice which came from no one knew where. On hearing himself called Polendina, Mastro Geppetto turned the color of a red pepper and, facing the carpenter, said to him angrily: "Why do you insult me?" "Who is insulting you?" "You called me Polendina." "I did not." "I suppose you think _I_ did! Yet I KNOW it was you." "No!" "Yes!" "No!" "Yes!" And growing angrier each moment, they went from words to blows, and finally began to scratch and bite and slap each other.', "When the fight was over, Mastro Antonio had Geppetto's yellow wig in his hands and Geppetto found the carpenter's curly wig in his mouth.", '"Give me back my wig!" shouted Mastro Antonio in a surly voice. "You return mine and we\'ll be friends." The two little old men, each with his own wig back on his own head, shook hands and swore to be good friends for the rest of their lives. "Well then, Mastro Geppetto," said the carpenter, to show he bore him no ill will, "what is it you want?" "I want a piece of wood to make a Marionette. Will you give it to me?"', "Mastro Antonio, very glad indeed, went immediately to his bench to get the piece of wood which had frightened him so much. But as he was about to give it to his friend, with a violent jerk it slipped out of his hands and hit against poor Geppetto's thin legs.", '"Ah! Is this the gentle way, Mastro Antonio, in which you make your gifts? You have made me almost lame!" "I swear to you I did not do it!" "It was _I_, of course!" "It\'s the fault of this piece of wood." "You\'re right; but remember you were the one to throw it at my legs." "I did not throw it!" "Liar!" "Geppetto, do not insult me or I shall call you Polendina." "Idiot." "Polendina!" "Donkey!" "Polendina!" "Ugly monkey!" "Polendina!" On hearing himself called Polendina for the third time, Geppetto lost his head with rage and threw himself upon the carpenter. Then and there they gave each other a sound thrashing. After this fight, Mastro Antonio had two more scratches on his nose, and Geppetto had two buttons missing from his coat. Thus having settled their accounts, they shook hands and swore to be good friends for the rest of their lives. Then Geppetto took the fine piece of wood, thanked Mastro Antonio, and limped away toward home. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn179.txt b/text/sn179.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2fa82493391fc8eaf1e906d755ef94beac33265c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn179.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Geppetto makes the talking piece of wood into a puppet and calls him Pinocchio. As soon as he can run, Pinocchio proves to be very naughty. ', "Little as Geppetto's house was, it was neat and comfortable. It was a small room on the ground floor, with a tiny window under the stairway. The furniture could not have been much simpler: a very old chair, a rickety old bed, and a tumble-down table. A fireplace full of burning logs was painted on the wall opposite the door. Over the fire, there was painted a pot full of something which kept boiling happily away and sending up clouds of what looked like real steam.", 'As soon as he reached home, Geppetto took his tools and began to cut and shape the wood into a Marionette. "What shall I call him?" he said to himself. "I think I\'ll call him PINOCCHIO. This name will make his fortune. I knew a whole family of Pinocchi once--Pinocchio the father, Pinocchia the mother, and Pinocchi the children--and they were all lucky. The richest of them begged for his living." After choosing the name for his Marionette, Geppetto set seriously to work to make the hair, the forehead, the eyes. Fancy his surprise when he noticed that these eyes moved and then stared fixedly at him. Geppetto, seeing this, felt insulted and said in a grieved tone: "Ugly wooden eyes, why do you stare so?" There was no answer. After the eyes, Geppetto made the nose, which began to stretch as soon as finished. It stretched and stretched and stretched till it became so long, it seemed endless. Poor Geppetto kept cutting it and cutting it, but the more he cut, the longer grew that impertinent nose. In despair he let it alone. Next he made the mouth. No sooner was it finished than it began to laugh and poke fun at him. "Stop laughing!" said Geppetto angrily; but he might as well have spoken to the wall. "Stop laughing, I say!" he roared in a voice of thunder. The mouth stopped laughing, but it stuck out a long tongue. Not wishing to start an argument, Geppetto made believe he saw nothing and went on with his work. After the mouth, he made the chin, then the neck, the shoulders, the stomach, the arms, and the hands. As he was about to put the last touches on the finger tips, Geppetto felt his wig being pulled off. He glanced up and what did he see? His yellow wig was in the Marionette\'s hand. "Pinocchio, give me my wig!" But instead of giving it back, Pinocchio put it on his own head, which was half swallowed up in it. At that unexpected trick, Geppetto became very sad and downcast, more so than he had ever been before. "Pinocchio, you wicked boy!" he cried out. "You are not yet finished, and you start out by being impudent to your poor old father. Very bad, my son, very bad!" And he wiped away a tear. The legs and feet still had to be made. As soon as they were done, Geppetto felt a sharp kick on the tip of his nose. "I deserve it!" he said to himself. "I should have thought of this before I made him. Now it\'s too late!" He took hold of the Marionette under the arms and put him on the floor to teach him to walk.', "Pinocchio's legs were so stiff that he could not move them, and Geppetto held his hand and showed him how to put out one foot after the other.", 'When his legs were limbered up, Pinocchio started walking by himself and ran all around the room. He came to the open door, and with one leap he was out into the street. Away he flew! Poor Geppetto ran after him but was unable to catch him, for Pinocchio ran in leaps and bounds, his two wooden feet, as they beat on the stones of the street, making as much noise as twenty peasants in wooden shoes. "Catch him! Catch him!" Geppetto kept shouting. But the people in the street, seeing a wooden Marionette running like the wind, stood still to stare and to laugh until they cried. At last, by sheer luck, a Carabineer* happened along, who, hearing all that noise, thought that it might be a runaway colt, and stood bravely in the middle of the street, with legs wide apart, firmly resolved to stop it and prevent any trouble. * A military policeman Pinocchio saw the Carabineer from afar and tried his best to escape between the legs of the big fellow, but without success. The Carabineer grabbed him by the nose (it was an extremely long one and seemed made on purpose for that very thing) and returned him to Mastro Geppetto.', "The little old man wanted to pull Pinocchio's ears. Think how he felt when, upon searching for them, he discovered that he had forgotten to make them!", 'All he could do was to seize Pinocchio by the back of the neck and take him home. As he was doing so, he shook him two or three times and said to him angrily: "We\'re going home now. When we get home, then we\'ll settle this matter!" Pinocchio, on hearing this, threw himself on the ground and refused to take another step. One person after another gathered around the two. Some said one thing, some another. "Poor Marionette," called out a man. "I am not surprised he doesn\'t want to go home. Geppetto, no doubt, will beat him unmercifully, he is so mean and cruel!" "Geppetto looks like a good man," added another, "but with boys he\'s a real tyrant. If we leave that poor Marionette in his hands he may tear him to pieces!" They said so much that, finally, the Carabineer ended matters by setting Pinocchio at liberty and dragging Geppetto to prison. The poor old fellow did not know how to defend himself, but wept and wailed like a child and said between his sobs: "Ungrateful boy! To think I tried so hard to make you a well-behaved Marionette! I deserve it, however! I should have given the matter more thought." What happened after this is an almost unbelievable story, but you may read it, dear children, in the chapters that follow. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn18.txt b/text/sn18.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..cd47d99f8355383e08e7807297daeb70bbea51df --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn18.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +It was the day before Halloween. Bertie and his friends were splashing around, just as they do on any ordinary day, but it wasn\'t any ordinary day, and it certainly wasn\'t going to be any ordinary sort of night. But for now, Sadie was calmly admiring her reflection in the pond, and Colin the Carp was moaning about, well, just about anything and everything, so nothing out of the ordinary there. Bertie and Tim the Tadpole were playing a game of Twenty Questions, except that it wasn\'t going very well because the only thing that Bertie could think of was, "skateboard," and the only vegetable that Tim could think of was, "green slime," which made it a bit easy. As they were playing, Tim saw Princess Beatrice and the children from the palace collecting giant pumpkins from the vegetable patch. "What are those very large things, Bertie?" Said Tim. "Those? They\'re vegetables." "Oh. I didn\'t know that vegetables were so scary!" "Well, my tiny friend," said Bertie. "That\'s because they are meant to be scary. The children are going to hollow them out and put candles inside them so that they light up for Halloween and look exactly like horrid scary monsters." "Oh," said Tim. "I\'m rather frightened." Because you see, Tim is only very small, even by the standard of tadpoles, and he gets frightened rather easily. Just then, Colin the Carp, who is a very grumpy fish, snapped his teeth loudly behind Tim\'s back, so loudly in fact, that Tim squeaked, "Yikes!" And tumbled back into the pond with a tiny little splash. "Huh! Halloween\'s a good time for scaring small and silly creatures," growled Colin. When Tim returned timidly to the surface, Bertie continued to explain all about Halloween: "It\'s the most brilliant time of the year. When I was a prince I used to go Trick\'r\'Treating. I would knock on doors and say, "Royal Trick or Treat," and if people didn\'t give me sweeties or chocolate, I would play a trick on them. But most people were a bit scared, and they gave me a treat. So every Halloween I had the most yummy scrummy time." "Fabulous!" Cried little Tim. "Can we go trick\'r\'treating Bertie? I promise to be really, really scary, and people will give us loads of green slime and other delicious things."', "And so, Bertie decreed, that this year, the pond life would go Trick'r'Treating. Sadie, Bertie and Tim thought long and hard about what sort of costumes they should wear. Then Tim had a brilliant idea, which is rather unusual for him.", '"Why don\'t we go as a swan, a frog, and a tadpole?" He said.', "Sadie walked in front, and Tim hopped onto Bertie's back, and they wandered through the vegetable patch, and started down the street. Sadie tapped on the doors with her beak, and by the end of the evening they had collected loads and loads of sweets. They had jelly babies, and toffees, and biscuits, and chewy things, and well, it's making me a bit peckish just thinking about it. When they had as much as Sadie could carry in her wings, and Bertie could stuff in his mouth, they decided to go back to the pond. But as they drew close, a thick mist was hanging over the pond. Three human beings were taking a walk through the dark. But were they really human? After all, it was Halloween.", '"Oh!" Said Tim, "What are those strange creatures? Are they... are they scary monsters?" "Well," said Bertie. "I would say, based on my experience of magic and the supernatural, that, er, what we see there is a big witch and two baby witches." "Ooooooooh!" Suddenly one of the little witches called out,"Tick or Treat?" And her friend said, "Trick or Treat?" At that very instant, Colin the Carp leaped up out of the water with a dead fly in his mouth, and he put it right down in front of the tall figure who, as it turned out, was the lovely Princess Beatrice who had dressed up as a witch for Halloween. "Here\'s your treat!" Said Colin, "Now, buzz off!" Princess Beatrice, who as well as being very lovely and sweet, is also very afraid of creepy crawlies, and besides, had never heard a carp speak before, so she jumped up in the air and shrieked,"Aaahhh! Ahhhh!" She ran all the way back to the palace with the two little witches following her as fast as they could. "Ha! That will teach her to come around here asking for treats," grumped Colin. "If only," Bertie mused. "A real witch would come and put a spell on him. What\'s the use of all those pretend witches?"', "Little did Bertie know, that just then, in front of the full moon, a wicked witch was flying past on her broom, and that the wicked witch was none other than Princess Beatrice's stepmother. Since it had been rather a dull Halloween, and she hadn't found anybody to turn into a frog or a toad, she was delighted to hear Bertie calling for the services of a real grade A, official, and fully certified, wicked witch!", '"Whooooosh!" She went flying low over the surface of the pond, leaving a huge wake of surf and green slime. "Ah ha ha haaaa!" She screeched. "Let those who moan, turn to stone!" When she was gone, and all was quiet again, little Tim said, "That was rather scary." "Nonsense," said Bertie, "That wasn\'t frightening at all. I just hid behind this tree as a sensible precaution."', "So the pond life went to bed, and I'm glad to say that none of them had any nightmares at all. But I'm sorry to say that Bertie felt just a little bit sick, as he had eaten so many scrummy sweeties. When the sun started to rise over the palace, and stretch her warm autumn rays over the pond, Sadie the swan was admiring a new fountain that she hadn't noticed before.", '"My oh my," she said, "that stone fish with water coming out of his mouth looks just like Colin.I wonder who could have made it in his honour?" "Yes," said Bertie, "I\'d recognise that ugly mug anywhere. But wait, do you know what? I think it is Colin!" "Don\'t be silly," said Sadie, "but then again, oh, I think you are right. You don\'t suppose that wicked stepmother could have turned Colin into stone?" "I do suppose," said Bertie. "Look what she did to me. I used to be a handsome prince." Although the little tadpoles had a lovely day, free from Colin\'s tricks and his moaning and groaning, Bertie started to feel just a little bit guilty. After all, it was he who had asked for the help of a wicked witch. But he hadn\'t meant it. Not really. We all say things we don\'t mean when we are a bit cross. So he thought of a plan, and that night he hopped over to pay a visit to the wicked stepmother. He was rather frightened because, after all, she is a very wicked witch indeed. He waited for a long time outside her door, feeling rather nervous. Eventually he called out, "Croak!" And when the wicked stepmother came out, he shouted, "Trick or Treat?" Before she could reply, he splattered her with green slime from his mouth, and hopped away as fast as his bendy legs could carry him. "Grrrrr! Bertie!" She shouted. Bertie waited until it was very late at night - past half seven - and then he knocked very loudly on the door again. Then he shouted, "Trick or Treat!" And pushed a skateboard under her feet so that she fell over and banged her head on the floor, and he hopped away. "Grrr! Just you wait. I\'ll get you Bertie. You\'ve gone too far my filthy little frog!" He waited until the king came to say goodnight to the wicked stepmother. The king knocked on the door quite loudly. Suddenly the door opened and the queen leaned out shouting, "I\'ll turn you into a maggot, you stupid piece of green slime! Oh, oh sorry Your Royal Highness. I didn\'t mean to." But the king strutted down the corridor, muttering about how one of his wives had never been so really, really rude, and how the last one who was rather rude got her head chopped off. The wicked stepmother was rather afraid. Just then, Bertie hopped into view. "Er, Trick or Treat?" He said mildly. And even though the wicked stepmother was really cross, she realised that she had been outwitted, and she agreed to come down to the pond, and to turn Colin back into a fish again. All the pond life were very pleased to see Colin swimming around again, because even though he is a bit grumpy, he still is their friend, and friends are very important. They saved up for a couple of chocolate-coloured dead flies so that even Colin the Carp cheered up for a little bit.', "And that's the true Storynory of Prince Bertie the Frog's Halloween. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn180.txt b/text/sn180.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..549f701ed390c08749cddb491925d7b87e53a29b --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn180.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +In this chapter Pinocchio meets a talking cricket (Il Grillo Parlante) who is NOT called Jiminy - well perhaps Walt Disney knew something we don't. We see that Pinocchio has a terrible temper.", 'Read by Natasha. Illustrated by Chiara Civati. Catch up with earlier chapters here. Very little time did it take to get poor old Geppetto to prison. In the meantime that rascal, Pinocchio, free now from the clutches of the Carabineer, was running wildly across fields and meadows, taking one short cut after another toward home. In his wild flight, he leaped over brambles and bushes, and across brooks and ponds, as if he were a goat or a hare chased by hounds. On reaching home, he found the house door half open. He slipped into the room, locked the door, and threw himself on the floor, happy at his escape. But his happiness lasted only a short time, for just then he heard someone saying: "Cri-cri-cri!" "Who is calling me?" asked Pinocchio, greatly frightened. "I am!" Pinocchio turned and saw a large cricket crawling slowly up the wall. "Tell me, Cricket, who are you?" "I am the Talking Cricket and I have been living in this room for more than one hundred years." "Today, however, this room is mine," said the Marionette, "and if you wish to do me a favor, get out now, and don\'t turn around even once." "I refuse to leave this spot," answered the Cricket, "until I have told you a great truth." "Tell it, then, and hurry." "Woe to boys who refuse to obey their parents and run away from home! They will never be happy in this world, and when they are older they will be very sorry for it." "Sing on, Cricket mine, as you please. What I know is, that tomorrow, at dawn, I leave this place forever. If I stay here the same thing will happen to me which happens to all other boys and girls. They are sent to school, and whether they want to or not, they must study. As for me, let me tell you, I hate to study! It\'s much more fun, I think, to chase after butterflies, climb trees, and steal birds\' nests." "Poor little silly! Don\'t you know that if you go on like that, you will grow into a perfect donkey and that you\'ll be the laughingstock of everyone?" "Keep still, you ugly Cricket!" cried Pinocchio.', "But the Cricket, who was a wise old philosopher, instead of being offended at Pinocchio's impudence, continued in the same tone:", '"If you do not like going to school, why don\'t you at least learn a trade, so that you can earn an honest living?" "Shall I tell you something?" asked Pinocchio, who was beginning to lose patience. "Of all the trades in the world, there is only one that really suits me." "And what can that be?" "That of eating, drinking, sleeping, playing, and wandering around from morning till night." "Let me tell you, for your own good, Pinocchio," said the Talking Cricket in his calm voice, "that those who follow that trade always end up in the hospital or in prison." "Careful, ugly Cricket! If you make me angry, you\'ll be sorry!" "Poor Pinocchio, I am sorry for you." "Why?" "Because you are a Marionette and, what is much worse, you have a wooden head." At these last words, Pinocchio jumped up in a fury, took a hammer from the bench, and threw it with all his strength at the Talking Cricket. Perhaps he did not think he would strike it. But, sad to relate, my dear children, he did hit the Cricket, straight on its head. With a last weak "cri-cri-cri" the poor Cricket fell from the wall, dead! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn181.txt b/text/sn181.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..bb354128245f795490a7857cee879fe71d15609c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn181.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +It must be very frustrating to want to eat something, and then you see it fly away. This what happens to Pinocchio when he tries to cook an omelet. CHAPTER 5', "If the Cricket's death scared Pinocchio at all, it was only for a very few moments. For, as night came on, a queer, empty feeling at the pit of his stomach reminded the Marionette that he had eaten nothing as yet.", "A boy's appetite grows very fast, and in a few moments the queer, empty feeling had become hunger, and the hunger grew bigger and bigger, until soon he was as ravenous as a bear.", 'Poor Pinocchio ran to the fireplace where the pot was boiling and stretched out his hand to take the cover off, but to his amazement the pot was only painted! Think how he felt! His long nose became at least two inches longer. He ran about the room, dug in all the boxes and drawers, and even looked under the bed in search of a piece of bread, hard though it might be, or a cookie, or perhaps a bit of fish. A bone left by a dog would have tasted good to him! But he found nothing. And meanwhile his hunger grew and grew. The only relief poor Pinocchio had was to yawn; and he certainly did yawn, such a big yawn that his mouth stretched out to the tips of his ears. Soon he became dizzy and faint. He wept and wailed to himself: "The Talking Cricket was right. It was wrong of me to disobey Father and to run away from home. If he were here now, I wouldn\'t be so hungry! Oh, how horrible it is to be hungry!"', "Suddenly, he saw, among the sweepings in a corner, something round and white that looked very much like a hen's egg. In a jiffy he pounced upon it. It was an egg.", "The Marionette's joy knew no bounds. It is impossible to describe it, you must picture it to yourself. Certain that he was dreaming, he turned the egg over and over in his hands, fondled it, kissed it, and talked to it:", '"And now, how shall I cook you? Shall I make an omelet? No, it is better to fry you in a pan! Or shall I drink you? No, the best way is to fry you in the pan. You will taste better." No sooner said than done. He placed a little pan over a foot warmer full of hot coals. In the pan, instead of oil or butter, he poured a little water. As soon as the water started to boil--tac!--he broke the eggshell. But in place of the white and the yolk of the egg, a little yellow Chick, fluffy and gay and smiling, escaped from it. Bowing politely to Pinocchio, he said to him: "Many, many thanks, indeed, Mr. Pinocchio, for having saved me the trouble of breaking my shell! Good-by and good luck to you and remember me to the family!" With these words he spread out his wings and, darting to the open window, he flew away into space till he was out of sight. The poor Marionette stood as if turned to stone, with wide eyes, open mouth, and the empty halves of the egg-shell in his hands. When he came to himself, he began to cry and shriek at the top of his lungs, stamping his feet on the ground and wailing all the while: "The Talking Cricket was right! If I had not run away from home and if Father were here now, I should not be dying of hunger. Oh, how horrible it is to be hungry!" And as his stomach kept grumbling more than ever and he had nothing to quiet it with, he thought of going out for a walk to the near-by village, in the hope of finding some charitable person who might give him a bit of bread. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn182.txt b/text/sn182.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6bec4057310396e4f3268a4c4b3a380b1c869495 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn182.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Poor, naughty Pinocchio is in trouble AGAIN! Pinocchio hated the dark street, but he was so hungry that, in spite of it, he ran out of the house. The night was pitch black. It thundered, and bright flashes of lightning now and again shot across the sky, turning it into a sea of fire. An angry wind blew cold and raised dense clouds of dust, while the trees shook and moaned in a weird way. Pinocchio was greatly afraid of thunder and lightning, but the hunger he felt was far greater than his fear. In a dozen leaps and bounds, he came to the village, tired out, puffing like a whale, and with tongue hanging. The whole village was dark and deserted. The stores were closed, the doors, the windows. In the streets, not even a dog could be seen. It seemed the Village of the Dead. Pinocchio, in desperation, ran up to a doorway, threw himself upon the bell, and pulled it wildly, saying to himself: "Someone will surely answer that!" He was right. An old man in a nightcap opened the window and looked out. He called down angrily: "What do you want at this hour of night?" "Will you be good enough to give me a bit of bread? I am hungry." "Wait a minute and I\'ll come right back," answered the old fellow, thinking he had to deal with one of those boys who love to roam around at night ringing people\'s bells while they are peacefully asleep. After a minute or two, the same voice cried: "Get under the window and hold out your hat!" Pinocchio had no hat, but he managed to get under the window just in time to feel a shower of ice-cold water pour down on his poor wooden head, his shoulders, and over his whole body. He returned home as wet as a rag, and tired out from weariness and hunger. As he no longer had any strength left with which to stand, he sat down on a little stool and put his two feet on the stove to dry them. There he fell asleep, and while he slept, his wooden feet began to burn. Slowly, very slowly, they blackened and turned to ashes. Pinocchio snored away happily as if his feet were not his own. At dawn he opened his eyes just as a loud knocking sounded at the door. "Who is it?" he called, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "It is I," answered a voice. It was the voice of Geppetto. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn183.txt b/text/sn183.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6b425c40fc38e561beea10557eeed1ab0e549a27 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn183.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +In falling, he made as much noise as a sack of wood falling from the fifth story of a house. "Open the door for me!" Geppetto shouted from the street. "Father, dear Father, I can\'t," answered the Marionette in despair, crying and rolling on the floor. "Why can\'t you?" "Because someone has eaten my feet." "And who has eaten them?" "The cat," answered Pinocchio, seeing that little animal busily playing with some shavings in the corner of the room. "Open! I say," repeated Geppetto, "or I\'ll give you a sound whipping when I get in." "Father, believe me, I can\'t stand up. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I shall have to walk on my knees all my life." Geppetto, thinking that all these tears and cries were only other pranks of the Marionette, climbed up the side of the house and went in through the window. At first he was very angry, but on seeing Pinocchio stretched out on the floor and really without feet, he felt very sad and sorrowful. Picking him up from the floor, he fondled and caressed him, talking to him while the tears ran down his cheeks: "My little Pinocchio, my dear little Pinocchio! How did you burn your feet?" "I don\'t know, Father, but believe me, the night has been a terrible one and I shall remember it as long as I live. The thunder was so noisy and the lightning so bright--and I was hungry. And then the Talking Cricket said to me, \'You deserve it; you were bad;\' and I said to him, \'Careful, Cricket;\' and he said to me, \'You are a Marionette and you have a wooden head;\' and I threw the hammer at him and killed him. It was his own fault, for I didn\'t want to kill him. And I put the pan on the coals, but the Chick flew away and said, \'I\'ll see you again! Remember me to the family.\' And my hunger grew, and I went out, and the old man with a nightcap looked out of the window and threw water on me, and I came home and put my feet on the stove to dry them because I was still hungry, and I fell asleep and now my feet are gone but my hunger isn\'t! Oh!--Oh!--Oh!" And poor Pinocchio began to scream and cry so loudly that he could be heard for miles around. Geppetto, who had understood nothing of all that jumbled talk, except that the Marionette was hungry, felt sorry for him, and pulling three pears out of his pocket, offered them to him, saying: "These three pears were for my breakfast, but I give them to you gladly. Eat them and stop weeping." "If you want me to eat them, please peel them for me." "Peel them?" asked Geppetto, very much surprised. "I should never have thought, dear boy of mine, that you were so dainty and fussy about your food. Bad, very bad! In this world, even as children, we must accustom ourselves to eat of everything, for we never know what life may hold in store for us!" "You may be right," answered Pinocchio, "but I will not eat the pears if they are not peeled. I don\'t like them." And good old Geppetto took out a knife, peeled the three pears, and put the skins in a row on the table. Pinocchio ate one pear in a twinkling and started to throw the core away, but Geppetto held his arm. "Oh, no, don\'t throw it away! Everything in this world may be of some use!" "But the core I will not eat!" cried Pinocchio in an angry tone. "Who knows?" repeated Geppetto calmly. And later the three cores were placed on the table next to the skins. Pinocchio had eaten the three pears, or rather devoured them. Then he yawned deeply, and wailed: "I\'m still hungry." "But I have no more to give you." "Really, nothing--nothing?" "I have only these three cores and these skins." "Very well, then," said Pinocchio, "if there is nothing else I\'ll eat them." At first he made a wry face, but, one after another, the skins and the cores disappeared. "Ah! Now I feel fine!" he said after eating the last one. "You see," observed Geppetto, "that I was right when I told you that one must not be too fussy and too dainty about food. My dear, we never know what life may have in store for us!" CHAPTER 8 Geppetto makes Pinocchio a new pair of feet, and sells his coat to buy him an A-B-C book. The Marionette, as soon as his hunger was appeased, started to grumble and cry that he wanted a new pair of feet. But Mastro Geppetto, in order to punish him for his mischief, let him alone the whole morning. After dinner he said to him: "Why should I make your feet over again? To see you run away from home once more?" "I promise you," answered the Marionette, sobbing, "that from now on I\'ll be good--" "Boys always promise that when they want something," said Geppetto. "I promise to go to school every day, to study, and to succeed--" "Boys always sing that song when they want their own will." "But I am not like other boys! I am better than all of them and I always tell the truth. I promise you, Father, that I\'ll learn a trade, and I\'ll be the comfort and staff of your old age." Geppetto, though trying to look very stern, felt his eyes fill with tears and his heart soften when he saw Pinocchio so unhappy. He said no more, but taking his tools and two pieces of wood, he set to work diligently.', "In less than an hour the feet were finished, two slender, nimble little feet, strong and quick, modeled as if by an artist's hands.", '"Close your eyes and sleep!" Geppetto then said to the Marionette. Pinocchio closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, while Geppetto stuck on the two feet with a bit of glue melted in an eggshell, doing his work so well that the joint could hardly be seen. As soon as the Marionette felt his new feet, he gave one leap from the table and started to skip and jump around, as if he had lost his head from very joy. "To show you how grateful I am to you, Father, I\'ll go to school now. But to go to school I need a suit of clothes." Geppetto did not have a penny in his pocket, so he made his son a little suit of flowered paper, a pair of shoes from the bark of a tree, and a tiny cap from a bit of dough. Pinocchio ran to look at himself in a bowl of water, and he felt so happy that he said proudly: "Now I look like a gentleman." "Truly," answered Geppetto. "But remember that fine clothes do not make the man unless they be neat and clean." "Very true," answered Pinocchio, "but, in order to go to school, I still need something very important." "What is it?" "An A-B-C book." "To be sure! But how shall we get it?" "That\'s easy. We\'ll go to a bookstore and buy it." "And the money?" "I have none." "Neither have I," said the old man sadly. Pinocchio, although a happy boy always, became sad and downcast at these words. When poverty shows itself, even mischievous boys understand what it means. "What does it matter, after all?" cried Geppetto all at once, as he jumped up from his chair. Putting on his old coat, full of darns and patches, he ran out of the house without another word. After a while he returned. In his hands he had the A-B-C book for his son, but the old coat was gone. The poor fellow was in his shirt sleeves and the day was cold. "Where\'s your coat, Father?" "I have sold it." "Why did you sell your coat?" "It was too warm."', "Pinocchio understood the answer in a twinkling, and, unable to restrain his tears, he jumped on his father's neck and kissed him over and over. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn184.txt b/text/sn184.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7ecfc54ab214fe582985ef83e8c17b1a966acbc8 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn184.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Geppetto has already given Pinocchio his breakfast, now he is even more kind and generous. We hope you will enjoy this moving chapter. Catch up on earlier chapters. Geppetto makes Pinocchio a new pair of feet, and sells his coat to buy him an A-B-C book. The Marionette, as soon as his hunger was appeased, started to grumble and cry that he wanted a new pair of feet. But Mastro Geppetto, in order to punish him for his mischief, let him alone the whole morning. After dinner he said to him: "Why should I make your feet over again? To see you run away from home once more?" "I promise you," answered the Marionette, sobbing, "that from now on I\'ll be good--" "Boys always promise that when they want something," said Geppetto. "I promise to go to school every day, to study, and to succeed--" "Boys always sing that song when they want their own will." "But I am not like other boys! I am better than all of them and I always tell the truth. I promise you, Father, that I\'ll learn a trade, and I\'ll be the comfort and staff of your old age." Geppetto, though trying to look very stern, felt his eyes fill with tears and his heart soften when he saw Pinocchio so unhappy. He said no more, but taking his tools and two pieces of wood, he set to work diligently.', "In less than an hour the feet were finished, two slender, nimble little feet, strong and quick, modeled as if by an artist's hands.", '"Close your eyes and sleep!" Geppetto then said to the Marionette. Pinocchio closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, while Geppetto stuck on the two feet with a bit of glue melted in an eggshell, doing his work so well that the joint could hardly be seen. As soon as the Marionette felt his new feet, he gave one leap from the table and started to skip and jump around, as if he had lost his head from very joy. "To show you how grateful I am to you, Father, I\'ll go to school now. But to go to school I need a suit of clothes." Geppetto did not have a penny in his pocket, so he made his son a little suit of flowered paper, a pair of shoes from the bark of a tree, and a tiny cap from a bit of dough. Pinocchio ran to look at himself in a bowl of water, and he felt so happy that he said proudly: "Now I look like a gentleman." "Truly," answered Geppetto. "But remember that fine clothes do not make the man unless they be neat and clean." "Very true," answered Pinocchio, "but, in order to go to school, I still need something very important." "What is it?" "An A-B-C book." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn185.txt b/text/sn185.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..948a02fcf4b80aaa579abaeebd337895f5d2e99f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn185.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Impatient, impulsive Pinocchio is easily distracted. He leaves for school with his new clothes, his ABC Book, and a bag full of the best intentions, but, sad to say, he does not get far. Catch up with earlier chapters here. RSS feed for Pinocchio See Pinocchio hurrying off to school with his new A-B-C book under his arm! As he walked along, his brain was busy planning hundreds of wonderful things, building hundreds of castles in the air. Talking to himself, he said: "In school today, I\'ll learn to read, tomorrow to write, and the day after tomorrow I\'ll do arithmetic. Then, clever as I am, I can earn a lot of money. With the very first pennies I make, I\'ll buy Father a new cloth coat. Cloth, did I say? No, it shall be of gold and silver with diamond buttons. That poor man certainly deserves it; for, after all, isn\'t he in his shirt sleeves because he was good enough to buy a book for me? On this cold day, too! Fathers are indeed good to their children!" As he talked to himself, he thought he heard sounds of pipes and drums coming from a distance: pi-pi-pi, pi-pi-pi. . .zum, zum, zum, zum. He stopped to listen. Those sounds came from a little street that led to a small village along the shore. "What can that noise be? What a nuisance that I have to go to school! Otherwise. . ." There he stopped, very much puzzled. He felt he had to make up his mind for either one thing or another. Should he go to school, or should he follow the pipes? "Today I\'ll follow the pipes, and tomorrow I\'ll go to school. There\'s always plenty of time to go to school," decided the little rascal at last, shrugging his shoulders. No sooner said than done. He started down the street, going like the wind. On he ran, and louder grew the sounds of pipe and drum: pi-pi-pi, pi-pi-pi, pi-pi-pi . . .zum, zum, zum, zum. Suddenly, he found himself in a large square, full of people standing in front of a little wooden building painted in brilliant colors. "What is that house?" Pinocchio asked a little boy near him. "Read the sign and you\'ll know." "I\'d like to read, but somehow I can\'t today." "Oh, really? Then I\'ll read it to you. Know, then, that written in letters of fire I see the words: GREAT MARIONETTE THEATER. "When did the show start?" "It is starting now." "And how much does one pay to get in?" "Four pennies." Pinocchio, who was wild with curiosity to know what was going on inside, lost all his pride and said to the boy shamelessly: "Will you give me four pennies until tomorrow?" "I\'d give them to you gladly," answered the other, poking fun at him, "but just now I can\'t give them to you." "For the price of four pennies, I\'ll sell you my coat." "If it rains, what shall I do with a coat of flowered paper? I could not take it off again." "Do you want to buy my shoes?" "They are only good enough to light a fire with." "What about my hat?" "Fine bargain, indeed! A cap of dough! The mice might come and eat it from my head!" Pinocchio was almost in tears. He was just about to make one last offer, but he lacked the courage to do so. He hesitated, he wondered, he could not make up his mind. At last he said: "Will you give me four pennies for the book?" "I am a boy and I buy nothing from boys," said the little fellow with far more common sense than the Marionette. "I\'ll give you four pennies for your A-B-C book," said a ragpicker who stood by. Then and there, the book changed hands. And to think that poor old Geppetto sat at home in his shirt sleeves, shivering with cold, having sold his coat to buy that little book for his son! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn186.txt b/text/sn186.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..08eed471a2b962aa704bdd657d83a0ca4ba4eb5a --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn186.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Catch up with earlier chapters here. Quick as a flash, Pinocchio disappeared into the Marionette Theater. And then something happened which almost caused a riot. The curtain was up and the performance had started. Harlequin and Pulcinella were reciting on the stage and, as usual, they were threatening each other with sticks and blows. The theater was full of people, enjoying the spectacle and laughing till they cried at the antics of the two Marionettes. The play continued for a few minutes, and then suddenly, without any warning, Harlequin stopped talking. Turning toward the audience, he pointed to the rear of the orchestra, yelling wildly at the same time: "Look, look! Am I asleep or awake? Or do I really see Pinocchio there?" "Yes, yes! It is Pinocchio!" screamed Pulcinella. "It is! It is!" shrieked Signora Rosaura, peeking in from the side of the stage. "It is Pinocchio! It is Pinocchio!" yelled all the Marionettes, pouring out of the wings. "It is Pinocchio. It is our brother Pinocchio! Hurrah for Pinocchio!" "Pinocchio, come up to me!" shouted Harlequin. "Come to the arms of your wooden brothers!"', "At such a loving invitation, Pinocchio, with one leap from the back of the orchestra, found himself in the front rows. With another leap, he was on the orchestra leader's head. With a third, he landed on the stage.", 'It is impossible to describe the shrieks of joy, the warm embraces, the knocks, and the friendly greetings with which that strange company of dramatic actors and actresses received Pinocchio. It was a heart-rending spectacle, but the audience, seeing that the play had stopped, became angry and began to yell: "The play, the play, we want the play!" The yelling was of no use, for the Marionettes, instead of going on with their act, made twice as much racket as before, and, lifting up Pinocchio on their shoulders, carried him around the stage in triumph.', "At that very moment, the Director came out of his room. He had such a fearful appearance that one look at him would fill you with horror. His beard was as black as pitch, and so long that it reached from his chin down to his feet. His mouth was as wide as an oven, his teeth like yellow fangs, and his eyes, two glowing red coals. In his huge, hairy hands, a long whip, made of green snakes and black cats' tails twisted together, swished through the air in a dangerous way.", 'At the unexpected apparition, no one dared even to breathe. One could almost hear a fly go by. Those poor Marionettes, one and all, trembled like leaves in a storm. "Why have you brought such excitement into my theater;" the huge fellow asked Pinocchio with the voice of an ogre suffering with a cold. "Believe me, your Honor, the fault was not mine." "Enough! Be quiet! I\'ll take care of you later." As soon as the play was over, the Director went to the kitchen, where a fine big lamb was slowly turning on the spit. More wood was needed to finish cooking it. He called Harlequin and Pulcinella and said to them: "Bring that Marionette to me! He looks as if he were made of well-seasoned wood. He\'ll make a fine fire for this spit." Harlequin and Pulcinella hesitated a bit. Then, frightened by a look from their master, they left the kitchen to obey him. A few minutes later they returned, carrying poor Pinocchio, who was wriggling and squirming like an eel and crying pitifully: "Father, save me! I don\'t want to die! I don\'t want to die!" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn187.txt b/text/sn187.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..872bf86cd9daa3446b2e328510894607d9738ef1 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn187.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This is an exciting, hilarious, and SCARY chapter, in which the Theatre Director intends to throw Pinocchio on the fire to help roast his lamb for dinner. Catch up with earlier chapters here. In the theater, great excitement reigned. Fire Eater (this was really his name) was very ugly, but he was far from being as bad as he looked. Proof of this is that, when he saw the poor Marionette being brought in to him, struggling with fear and crying, "I don\'t want to die! I don\'t want to die!" he felt sorry for him and began first to waver and then to weaken. Finally, he could control himself no longer and gave a loud sneeze. At that sneeze, Harlequin, who until then had been as sad as a weeping willow, smiled happily and leaning toward the Marionette, whispered to him: "Good news, brother mine! Fire Eater has sneezed and this is a sign that he feels sorry for you. You are saved!" For be it known, that, while other people, when sad and sorrowful, weep and wipe their eyes, Fire Eater, on the other hand, had the strange habit of sneezing each time he felt unhappy. The way was just as good as any other to show the kindness of his heart. After sneezing, Fire Eater, ugly as ever, cried to Pinocchio: "Stop crying! Your wails give me a funny feeling down here in my stomach and--E--tchee!--E--tchee!" Two loud sneezes finished his speech. "God bless you!" said Pinocchio. "Thanks! Are your father and mother still living?" demanded Fire Eater. "My father, yes. My mother I have never known." "Your poor father would suffer terribly if I were to use you as firewood. Poor old man! I feel sorry for him! E--tchee! E--tchee! E--tchee!" Three more sneezes sounded, louder than ever. "God bless you!" said Pinocchio. "Thanks! However, I ought to be sorry for myself, too, just now. My good dinner is spoiled. I have no more wood for the fire, and the lamb is only half cooked. Never mind! In your place I\'ll burn some other Marionette. Hey there! Officers!" At the call, two wooden officers appeared, long and thin as a yard of rope, with queer hats on their heads and swords in their hands. Fire Eater yelled at them in a hoarse voice: "Take Harlequin, tie him, and throw him on the fire. I want my lamb well done!" Think how poor Harlequin felt! He was so scared that his legs doubled up under him and he fell to the floor. Pinocchio, at that heartbreaking sight, threw himself at the feet of Fire Eater and, weeping bitterly, asked in a pitiful voice which could scarcely be heard: "Have pity, I beg of you, signore!" "There are no signori here!" "Have pity, kind sir!" "There are no sirs here!" "Have pity, your Excellency!" On hearing himself addressed as your Excellency, the Director of the Marionette Theater sat up very straight in his chair, stroked his long beard, and becoming suddenly kind and compassionate, smiled proudly as he said to Pinocchio: "Well, what do you want from me now, Marionette?" "I beg for mercy for my poor friend, Harlequin, who has never done the least harm in his life." "There is no mercy here, Pinocchio. I have spared you. Harlequin must burn in your place. I am hungry and my dinner must be cooked." "In that case," said Pinocchio proudly, as he stood up and flung away his cap of dough, "in that case, my duty is clear. Come, officers! Tie me up and throw me on those flames. No, it is not fair for poor Harlequin, the best friend that I have in the world, to die in my place!" These brave words, said in a piercing voice, made all the other Marionettes cry. Even the officers, who were made of wood also, cried like two babies. Fire Eater at first remained hard and cold as a piece of ice; but then, little by little, he softened and began to sneeze. And after four or five sneezes, he opened wide his arms and said to Pinocchio: "You are a brave boy! Come to my arms and kiss me!" Pinocchio ran to him and scurrying like a squirrel up the long black beard, he gave Fire Eater a loving kiss on the tip of his nose. "Has pardon been granted to me?" asked poor Harlequin with a voice that was hardly a breath. "Pardon is yours!" answered Fire Eater; and sighing and wagging his head, he added: "Well, tonight I shall have to eat my lamb only half cooked, but beware the next time, Marionettes." At the news that pardon had been given, the Marionettes ran to the stage and, turning on all the lights, they danced and sang till dawn. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn188.txt b/text/sn188.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d5168ba9f2b95d2ea42a93f8186b299445d2f4de --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn188.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio\'s fortunes change quickly. In this chapter he becomes a "rich man"But for how long can he keep hold of his fortune? On the road home, he meets a fox and a cat who say they can make his money multiply many times over. Check back tomorrow for chapter 13! CHAPTER 12 The next day Fire Eater called Pinocchio aside and asked him: "What is your father\'s name?" "Geppetto." "And what is his trade?" "He\'s a wood carver." "Does he earn much?" "He earns so much that he never has a penny in his pockets. Just think that, in order to buy me an A-B-C book for school, he had to sell the only coat he owned, a coat so full of darns and patches that it was a pity." "Poor fellow! I feel sorry for him. Here, take these five gold pieces. Go, give them to him with my kindest regards." Pinocchio, as may easily be imagined, thanked him a thousand times. He kissed each Marionette in turn, even the officers, and, beside himself with joy, set out on his homeward journey. He had gone barely half a mile when he met a lame Fox and a blind Cat, walking together like two good friends. The lame Fox leaned on the Cat, and the blind Cat let the Fox lead him along. "Good morning, Pinocchio," said the Fox, greeting him courteously. "How do you know my name?" asked the Marionette. "I know your father well." "Where have you seen him?" "I saw him yesterday standing at the door of his house." "And what was he doing?" "He was in his shirt sleeves trembling with cold." "Poor Father! But, after today, God willing, he will suffer no longer." "Why?" "Because I have become a rich man." "You, a rich man?" said the Fox, and he began to laugh out loud. The Cat was laughing also, but tried to hide it by stroking his long whiskers. "There is nothing to laugh at," cried Pinocchio angrily. "I am very sorry to make your mouth water, but these, as you know, are five new gold pieces." And he pulled out the gold pieces which Fire Eater had given him. At the cheerful tinkle of the gold, the Fox unconsciously held out his paw that was supposed to be lame, and the Cat opened wide his two eyes till they looked like live coals, but he closed them again so quickly that Pinocchio did not notice. "And may I ask," inquired the Fox, "what you are going to do with all that money?" "First of all," answered the Marionette, "I want to buy a fine new coat for my father, a coat of gold and silver with diamond buttons; after that, I\'ll buy an A-B-C book for myself." "For yourself?" "For myself. I want to go to school and study hard." "Look at me," said the Fox. "For the silly reason of wanting to study, I have lost a paw." "Look at me," said the Cat. "For the same foolish reason, I have lost the sight of both eyes." At that moment, a Blackbird, perched on the fence along the road, called out sharp and clear: "Pinocchio, do not listen to bad advice. If you do, you\'ll be sorry!" Poor little Blackbird! If he had only kept his words to himself! In the twinkling of an eyelid, the Cat leaped on him, and ate him, feathers and all. After eating the bird, he cleaned his whiskers, closed his eyes, and became blind once more. "Poor Blackbird!" said Pinocchio to the Cat. "Why did you kill him?" "I killed him to teach him a lesson. He talks too much. Next time he will keep his words to himself." By this time the three companions had walked a long distance. Suddenly, the Fox stopped in his tracks and, turning to the Marionette, said to him: "Do you want to double your gold pieces?" "What do you mean?" "Do you want one hundred, a thousand, two thousand gold pieces for your miserable five?" "Yes, but how?" "The way is very easy. Instead of returning home, come with us." "And where will you take me?" "To the City of Simple Simons." Pinocchio thought a while and then said firmly: "No, I don\'t want to go. Home is near, and I\'m going where Father is waiting for me. How unhappy he must be that I have not yet returned! I have been a bad son, and the Talking Cricket was right when he said that a disobedient boy cannot be happy in this world. I have learned this at my own expense. Even last night in the theater, when Fire Eater. . . Brrrr!!!!! . . . The shivers run up and down my back at the mere thought of it." "Well, then," said the Fox, "if you really want to go home, go ahead, but you\'ll be sorry." "You\'ll be sorry," repeated the Cat. "Think well, Pinocchio, you are turning your back on Dame Fortune." "On Dame Fortune," repeated the Cat. "Tomorrow your five gold pieces will be two thousand!" "Two thousand!" repeated the Cat. "But how can they possibly become so many?" asked Pinocchio wonderingly. "I\'ll explain," said the Fox. "You must know that, just outside the City of Simple Simons, there is a blessed field called the Field of Wonders. In this field you dig a hole and in the hole you bury a gold piece. After covering up the hole with earth you water it well, sprinkle a bit of salt on it, and go to bed. During the night, the gold piece sprouts, grows, blossoms, and next morning you find a beautiful tree, that is loaded with gold pieces." "So that if I were to bury my five gold pieces," cried Pinocchio with growing wonder, "next morning I should find--how many?" "It is very simple to figure out," answered the Fox. "Why, you can figure it on your fingers! Granted that each piece gives you five hundred, multiply five hundred by five. Next morning you will find twenty-five hundred new, sparkling gold pieces." "Fine! Fine!" cried Pinocchio, dancing about with joy. "And as soon as I have them, I shall keep two thousand for myself and the other five hundred I\'ll give to you two." "A gift for us?" cried the Fox, pretending to be insulted. "Why, of course not!" "Of course not!" repeated the Cat. "We do not work for gain," answered the Fox. "We work only to enrich others." "To enrich others!" repeated the Cat. "What good people," thought Pinocchio to himself. And forgetting his father, the new coat, the A-B-C book, and all his good resolutions, he said to the Fox and to the Cat: "Let us go. I am with you." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn189.txt b/text/sn189.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c9cc783902169cef1cb59ec091531295fde88bfb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn189.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio's new friends, the blind cat and the lame fox, take him to an inn. They eat supper and book a room. Will they keep their promise to multiply his gold coins?", ' Catch up with earlier chapters here. Cat and Fox and Marionette walked and walked and walked. At last, toward evening, dead tired, they came to the Inn of the Red Lobster. "Let us stop here a while," said the Fox, "to eat a bite and rest for a few hours. At midnight we\'ll start out again, for at dawn tomorrow we must be at the Field of Wonders." They went into the Inn and all three sat down at the same table. However, not one of them was very hungry. The poor Cat felt very weak, and he was able to eat only thirty-five mullets with tomato sauce and four portions of tripe with cheese. Moreover, as he was so in need of strength, he had to have four more helpings of butter and cheese. The Fox, after a great deal of coaxing, tried his best to eat a little. The doctor had put him on a diet, and he had to be satisfied with a small hare dressed with a dozen young and tender spring chickens. After the hare, he ordered some partridges, a few pheasants, a couple of rabbits, and a dozen frogs and lizards. That was all. He felt ill, he said, and could not eat another bite. Pinocchio ate least of all. He asked for a bite of bread and a few nuts and then hardly touched them. The poor fellow, with his mind on the Field of Wonders, was suffering from a gold-piece indigestion. Supper over, the Fox said to the Innkeeper: "Give us two good rooms, one for Mr. Pinocchio and the other for me and my friend. Before starting out, we\'ll take a little nap. Remember to call us at midnight sharp, for we must continue on our journey." "Yes, sir," answered the Innkeeper, winking in a knowing way at the Fox and the Cat, as if to say, "I understand." As soon as Pinocchio was in bed, he fell fast asleep and began to dream. He dreamed he was in the middle of a field. The field was full of vines heavy with grapes. The grapes were no other than gold coins which tinkled merrily as they swayed in the wind. They seemed to say, "Let him who wants us take us!" Just as Pinocchio stretched out his hand to take a handful of them, he was awakened by three loud knocks at the door. It was the Innkeeper who had come to tell him that midnight had struck. "Are my friends ready?" the Marionette asked him. "Indeed, yes! They went two hours ago." "Why in such a hurry?" "Unfortunately the Cat received a telegram which said that his first-born was suffering from chilblains and was on the point of death. He could not even wait to say good-by to you." "Did they pay for the supper?" "How could they do such a thing? Being people of great refinement, they did not want to offend you so deeply as not to allow you the honor of paying the bill." "Too bad! That offense would have been more than pleasing to me," said Pinocchio, scratching his head. "Where did my good friends say they would wait for me?" he added. "At the Field of Wonders, at sunrise tomorrow morning." Pinocchio paid a gold piece for the three suppers and started on his way toward the field that was to make him a rich man. He walked on, not knowing where he was going, for it was dark, so dark that not a thing was visible. Round about him, not a leaf stirred. A few bats skimmed his nose now and again and scared him half to death. Once or twice he shouted, "Who goes there?" and the far-away hills echoed back to him, "Who goes there? Who goes there? Who goes. . . ?" As he walked, Pinocchio noticed a tiny insect glimmering on the trunk of a tree, a small being that glowed with a pale, soft light. "Who are you?" he asked. "I am the ghost of the Talking Cricket," answered the little being in a faint voice that sounded as if it came from a far-away world. "What do you want?" asked the Marionette. "I want to give you a few words of good advice. Return home and give the four gold pieces you have left to your poor old father who is weeping because he has not seen you for many a day." "Tomorrow my father will be a rich man, for these four gold pieces will become two thousand." "Don\'t listen to those who promise you wealth overnight, my boy. As a rule they are either fools or swindlers! Listen to me and go home." "But I want to go on!" "The hour is late!" "I want to go on." "The night is very dark." "I want to go on." "The road is dangerous." "I want to go on." "Remember that boys who insist on having their own way, sooner or later come to grief." "The same nonsense. Good-by, Cricket." "Good night, Pinocchio, and may Heaven preserve you from the Assassins." There was silence for a minute and the light of the Talking Cricket disappeared suddenly, just as if someone had snuffed it out. Once again the road was plunged in darkness. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn19.txt b/text/sn19.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c974afce2abb55b4d708a9abab054f2bda20139d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn19.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +We are getting really into the holiday mood now, with the absolutely true story of how Prince Bertie the Frog met Santa Claus. And as a special treat, this story is our first to come with music and ambience. Read by Natasha. Duration 23 Minutes.', "Hello. This is Natasha. And I'm dropping by to tell you the storynory of how Prince Bertie the Frog met Father Christmas.", 'Yes, really. In real life!', "It's ever such an exciting story, I can hardly wait to tell it to you.", 'Christmas was getting close, and all the pond life were sitting around discussing the things that they wanted for Christmas.', "It was quite shivery weather, being the middle of winter in that part of the world, but Prince Bertie the Frog and his friends didn't mind about that. They were too excited thinking of things to ask Santa for.", '"What are you wishing for, Bertie?" Asked Tim the Tadpole. "Well, my small friend," said Bertie. "I would like a new 60 gigabyte video Ipod, personally engraved, of course; and a new PlayStation 3, with loads of games to play. Maybe a Nintendo as well. Oh, and perhaps a High Definition flat panel TV. And, and, and... I would like one of the new Robo-Skateboarders, because I have read it is this year\'s must-have present, and there will be a real shortage."', "Bertie had reeled off his Christmas list with great enthusiasm, but then for a moment he felt a little bit sad - for you see, when he was a prince and lived in the palace, he used to get loads and loads of presents, but now he's a frog, the most he can really look forward to for Christmas is a piece of green slime.", '"And how about you Tim?" Asked Bertie. "A pair of wellington boots," said Tim; "A walking stick, some socks, maybe some jelly babies, and a copy of, "Cooking With Slime," by Joly Oliver." "We\'d better not even ask Colin the Carp what he wants," said Bertie. "Oh, just a fly trap, as usual," said Colin, sounding a bit gloomy, "and maybe, if Santa can be bothered, a copy of "Dead Insects à la Carte," by Graham Ramsey." "And in a perfect world, what would Santa bring for Sadie the Swan?" Bertie wondered out loud. Sadie glided elegantly across the pond. "I think I\'d rather like a day at a luxury health spa," she sighed, "and some feather beauty treatments." So Bertie said he was would write all the things they wanted down, and make sure they were sent off to Santa in plenty of time for Christmas - and maybe, just this time, Santa would remember all the pond life. After all, there has to be a first time for everything. But he had counted without a very unexpected turn of events.', "Up at the Palace, just a few days before Christmas, the wicked queen, Princess Beatrice's Stepmother was in a terrible temper - even worse than usual. She was getting more and more stressed with all the preparations for the big day.", "There were presents to buy and wrap, food to prepare, and all sorts of charitable acts for the poor people... which really didn't interest her very much.", '"Right, that\'s it!" She screeched one morning. "I\'m totally fed up. Christmas is cancelled. We\'re not bothering this year... and I\'m going to ask that stupid old Santa just to send me a cheque instead." Now, when everyone in the palace heard this, they were really quite upset, because they were looking forward to Christmas so very much - but the wicked stepmother was absolutely determined. "No No, No, Absolutely NOT. Christmas is OFF," she shrieked over and over again. "If any little child so much as dare whisper, "Merry Christmas I\'ll turn him into a beetle." And everyone did their best to stay out of her sight. Because you see, secretly she\'s a witch, and she might turn you into a creepy-crawly just for fun, so if he\'s in a bad mood, it\'s best to stay out of her way. Everyone was truly miserable, but nobody more so than the lovely Princess Beatrice, because she especially loved Christmas. Most of all, she liked helping the poor people, and doing kind things for little children, and small, fluffy animals... and she quite liked eating yummy-scrummy food, and getting some presents herself. So she was terribly upset.', "To calm herself down, she went for a walk by the pond. but she couldn't stop herself from sobbing gentle, sweet tears. She began to talk to the creatures who lived on the pond, and she didn't think for a moment think that they might understand a word of what she was saying.", '"Dear, gentle swan," she said. "Funny-faced frog, tiny tadpole, and strangely grumpy looking fish do you not understand how sad I am, now that my wicked stepmother has cancelled Christmas? Yes, it\'s true, she wrote to Santa and asked him to pay a cheque into her bank account instead. Oh alas! It is as if my heart had been broken into a thousand tiny little bits... and I have no idea how to put it back together again." And wiping the tears from her eyes, she went back to the palace. "Oh!" Sighed Bertie. "This is truly terrible. I can\'t bear to see the lovely Princess Beatrice so upset. After all, I\'m still officially engaged to be married to Her Royal Loveliness. Something must be done." And so Bertie, along with his friends, hatched a cunning plan.', "They waited until the night of Christmas Eve, and when it was getting dark, Bertie and Tim hopped onto Sadie the Swan's back. The mission was so important that even Colin the Carp wished them good luck.", 'Sadie flapped her wings. It was a long time since she had flown anywhere, and she had to flap and flap, but finally, she spread out her feathers and soared upwards into the night sky. Bertie was hanging onto her back, and Tim was hanging onto Bertie. "Are we there yet?" Asked Tim nervously. "I only wish," said Bertie as he swayed around in the wind. Sadie flapped up and down, up and down, until they were flying over a nearby village. "There!" shouted Bertie.', "And Sadie flew down onto a rooftop, skidding to a halt. Tim was very pleased to climb off, and he was already wondering if he could take a bus home since flying on a swan's back was a bit scary.", '"We\'ll just wait right by this chimney," said Bertie, "and when Santa and the reindeer come along, we\'ll tell him that he\'s not to listen to the silly old wicked stepmother and I\'ll order him to deliver presents to the palace as usual." Then he paused to think for a bit... "And to everyone on the pond as well, of course."', "So Bertie, Tim and Sadie waited and waited. They got very cold, and a bit peckish, but they didn't complain because they knew it was very important to see Santa.", "Finally, they saw the twinkling of moonbeams, a silvery trail of stardust, and Santa's sleigh was coming into land.", '"I saw him first, I saw him first," said Tim, trying to jump up and down, which is quite difficult when you haven\'t got any legs. "No, I did," boomed Bertie. "It was me, it was me," squealed Tim. "No, Tim, I..." "Not fair, not fair, not fair," cried Tim. "I never get to see anyone first." "Now, now, boys, it doesn\'t really matter who saw him first," said Sadie. "We just have to speak to Santa." The sleigh had already landed on the roof, and a big jolly man with a red coat and a white beard was walking with a sack of presents towards the chimney. "Who\'s that?" Asked Tim - who really is a rather silly Tadpole.', "Bertie ignored him and went up to accost Santa's reindeer.", '"I say there, my merry fellows," said Bertie. "I need to have a word about a delivery." "Well, I don\'t know about that," said the first reindeer. "You\'ll have to talk to the boss." "It\'s very urgent," said Bertie. "Oh, urgent, is it?" Said the reindeer. "It\'s only Christmas Eve, \'innit mate. We\'ve only got, what three or four billion presents to deliver, and you start telling us your business is urgent." "But... but..." Spluttered Bertie. "Well have you got anything for us?" Asked the reindeer. "And not another mince pie and carrot," said the next reindeer. "We\'ve had a couple million of them already, and we\'re fed up." "I didn\'t actually think to bring you something," said Bertie. "No, well, nobody ever does. We deliver millions of presents around the world, and nobody brings us nothing - unless it\'s a mince pie."', "Bertie was starting to wonder if he shouldn't put in an official complaint about the reindeer's poor service, when just then Santa himself popped back out of the chimney.", '"Oh bother," he said, bending over and picking up Bertie. "Looks like I dropped this little feller. Oh well, never mind, we\'ll just sling it in the next stocking. There must be some not terribly well-behaved snotty-nosed kid who deserves nothing better than a cheap-looking toy frog ." "I-I-I\'m not a toy," spluttered Bertie. Santa chuckled. "A toy that talks - that\'s hardly original." "Look here, my good sir," said Bertie, putting on his grandest voice. "I\'m Prince Bertie - from the Palace, you know. I\'m merely in the form of a frog because my fiancee\'s stepmother got rather cross with me once - well that\'s a long story but perhaps I\'ll tell it to you another time." "We\'ll be skipping the palace this year," said Santa. "The queen wrote to us personally, and said she was cancelling Christmas this year, and we were just to send a cheque and a large box of chocolates instead." "That\'s just it," said Bertie. "It\'s all been a terrible mistake. The lovely Princess Beatrice - she\'s my fiancee, you know, and the sweetest kindest creature who ever lived - is so terribly sad about Christmas being cancelled, and so I\'ve come to ask you to put the palace back on your route. If its not too much trouble..." Santa stroked his long white beard. "Can\'t be done," he said firmly. "It\'s already been put on the system, you see. I can\'t go around changing it at the last minute." "But Princess Beatrice will be so miserable," said Bertie. Santa shook his head. "Not as upset as the systems people will be if I start trying to change the rota. It simply can\'t be done." Bertie was starting to get so cross he was hopping from one foot to another. "I have to insist," he said. "You can insist all you like, my fine frog, er, prince, but rules are rules. Letters to Santa must be written three weeks in advance, on one side of the paper only, and addressed to The North Pole. Chimneys must be a regulation six feet minimum, and free of dangerous objects. Roofs must have a minimum width of twelve feet of landing space for the reindeer. One mince pie must be left for Santa, but no custard, or harmful additives. It\'s all there in health and safety regulations, mate." "But it\'s Christmas," spluttered Bertie. "Goodwill to all frogs, and all that." "Doesn\'t mean there aren\'t rules to follow," said Santa. "If the palace wants to go back on the list then they will have to apply to head office." Just then Sadie the Swan walked across. She hissed her fiercest hiss and bared her sharp teeth. "You\'ve never seen a crying princess," she said. "It\'s enough to break anyone\'s heart. Now deliver a present." Santa backed away because Sadie was really quite scary when she got cross. "I could, I suppose," said Santa. "But I\'m afraid we haven\'t got anything to give her." "Nothing at all?" Said Bertie. Santa shook his head. "All these presents are spoken for," he said. "You wouldn\'t want some small child missing out because of you, would you frog?" Now Bertie thought about it, that didn\'t seem a terribly good idea. "I know," he said. "Just take me. I\'ll be the present." And as Santa was fed up of arguing, he agreed to Bertie\'s plan, on condition that nobody breathed a word about it to head office.', "So Bertie, Tim and Sadie climbed onto Santa's sleigh, which Tim thought was the most exciting thing ever. The reindeer pulled it high into the sky, until it landed on the roof of the palace. Santa put Bertie in his pocket and dropped down the chimney. He glanced across to check that the lovely Princess Beatrice was sleeping, and then he slipped Bertie into the bottom of the stocking that was hung up by the chimney.", 'He picked up the mince pie that Princess Beatrice had left just in case Santa did come after all. Then he flew on to deliver the presents to all the other children all over the world.', "Bertie stayed at the bottom of the stocking until dawn broke. He was starting to wish he'd borrowed a mince pie because he was feeling a bit peckish, but then he heard Princess Beatrice waking up.", 'She walked over to the chimney, and she saw that the mince pie was gone and that there was something in the stocking. "Santa has been," she said out loud. "I knew he would...." "I\'m so excited, I\'m so excited," she said, dancing around the room. "It\'s Christmas!"', "Then when she had calmed down, she looked inside the stocking. She was talking out loud about all the things she'd asked Santa for. A new tiara set, a string of pearls, a pink ballgown, a fluffy pink bunny, and a complete set of Girls Aloud CDs.", '"Oh dear," she said, lifting Bertie out of the stocking. "It\'s a toy frog. That\'s, er, well, quite nice I suppose - I think I\'ll take it to the charity shop on Monday." Bertie was a bit sad about that. It seemed the Princess Beatrice didn\'t really like her present. He only longed that he could look into her darling hazel eyes and say, "Dearest Beatrice, don\'t you recognise me? Before I became this sweet little frog you see before you, I was your handsome Prince Bertie." Now if there is one thing Bertie was good at when he was still a prince, it was skateboarding. Unfortunately, Princess Beatrice did not own a skateboard, but she did have a pair of roller-blades. And as it happened, Bertie saw one sticking out from under her bed. He pulled it out and hopped on board. Then he started to do loop-the-loops and all sorts of marvellous acrobatics. Eventually, he fell off, but he managed to make that look like he did it on purpose, just to be funny. Princess Beatrice was delighted. She was so excited that she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. Then she picked up Bertie and was about to kiss him when she thought, "well perhaps not this time," and put him down again on the floor. "My darling little frog," she said. "How can I ever thank you enough? This is the best Christmas ever." She ran off to tell all the little children who lived in the palace all about what had happened. "Croak," said Bertie when she was gone. He cried a little tear because he would so like to be a prince once again, and spend Christmas with the lovely Princess Beatrice. But at the same time, he felt really really happy because he had managed to cheer her up.', "And when he got back to the pond, he found some presents waiting for him. And Tim had cooked up a mega-dish of Christmas treats, specially prepared from his brand new copy of 'Cooking With Green Slime'.", "And that's the Storynory of how Prince Bertie the Frog met Father Christmas. And every single word of it is true. Honestly.", 'I hope you have a great day, and that Santa brings you some wonderful presents. But for now, from me, Natasha, and all your pond life friends at Storynory.com HAVE A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS! bye, bye. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn190.txt b/text/sn190.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..864909dfe120f62f0e90076a754967433634ec43 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn190.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +A frantic and desperate chase ensues when Pinocchio is accosted by two robbers - The Assassins - on the road at night. "Dear, oh, dear! When I come to think of it," said the Marionette to himself, as he once more set out on his journey, "we boys are really very unlucky. Everybody scolds us, everybody gives us advice, everybody warns us. If we were to allow it, everyone would try to be father and mother to us; everyone, even the Talking Cricket. Take me, for example. Just because I would not listen to that bothersome Cricket, who knows how many misfortunes may be awaiting me! Assassins indeed! At least I have never believed in them, nor ever will. To speak sensibly, I think assassins have been invented by fathers and mothers to frighten children who want to run away at night. And then, even if I were to meet them on the road, what matter? I\'ll just run up to them, and say, \'Well, signori, what do you want? Remember that you can\'t fool with me! Run along and mind your business.\' At such a speech, I can almost see those poor fellows running like the wind. But in case they don\'t run away, I can always run myself. . ." Pinocchio was not given time to argue any longer, for he thought he heard a slight rustle among the leaves behind him. He turned to look and behold, there in the darkness stood two big black shadows, wrapped from head to foot in black sacks. The two figures leaped toward him as softly as if they were ghosts. "Here they come!" Pinocchio said to himself, and, not knowing where to hide the gold pieces, he stuck all four of them under his tongue. He tried to run away, but hardly had he taken a step, when he felt his arms grasped and heard two horrible, deep voices say to him: "Your money or your life!" On account of the gold pieces in his mouth, Pinocchio could not say a word, so he tried with head and hands and body to show, as best he could, that he was only a poor Marionette without a penny in his pocket. "Come, come, less nonsense, and out with your money!" cried the two thieves in threatening voices. Once more, Pinocchio\'s head and hands said, "I haven\'t a penny." "Out with that money or you\'re a dead man," said the taller of the two Assassins. "Dead man," repeated the other. "And after having killed you, we will kill your father also." "Your father also!" "No, no, no, not my Father!" cried Pinocchio, wild with terror; but as he screamed, the gold pieces tinkled together in his mouth. "Ah, you rascal! So that\'s the game! You have the money hidden under your tongue. Out with it!" But Pinocchio was as stubborn as ever. "Are you deaf? Wait, young man, we\'ll get it from you in a twinkling!" One of them grabbed the Marionette by the nose and the other by the chin, and they pulled him unmercifully from side to side in order to make him open his mouth.', "All was of no use. The Marionette's lips might have been nailed together. They would not open.", "In desperation the smaller of the two Assassins pulled out a long knife from his pocket, and tried to pry Pinocchio's mouth open with it.", "Quick as a flash, the Marionette sank his teeth deep into the Assassin's hand, bit it off and spat it out. Fancy his surprise when he saw that it was not a hand, but a cat's paw.", 'Encouraged by this first victory, he freed himself from the claws of his assailers and, leaping over the bushes along the road, ran swiftly across the fields. His pursuers were after him at once, like two dogs chasing a hare. After running seven miles or so, Pinocchio was well-nigh exhausted. Seeing himself lost, he climbed up a giant pine tree and sat there to see what he could see. The Assassins tried to climb also, but they slipped and fell. Far from giving up the chase, this only spurred them on. They gathered a bundle of wood, piled it up at the foot of the pine, and set fire to it. In a twinkling the tree began to sputter and burn like a candle blown by the wind. Pinocchio saw the flames climb higher and higher. Not wishing to end his days as a roasted Marionette, he jumped quickly to the ground and off he went, the Assassins close to him, as before. Dawn was breaking when, without any warning whatsoever, Pinocchio found his path barred by a deep pool full of water the color of muddy coffee. What was there to do? With a "One, two, three!" he jumped clear across it. The Assassins jumped also, but not having measured their distance well--splash!!!--they fell right into the middle of the pool. Pinocchio who heard the splash and felt it, too, cried out, laughing, but never stopping in his race: "A pleasant bath to you, signori!" He thought they must surely be drowned and turned his head to see. But there were the two somber figures still following him, though their black sacks were drenched and dripping with water. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn191.txt b/text/sn191.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9465f015ebc2e8206a2dc98ea9141879f2638cc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn191.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Check back tomorrow for chapter 13! CHAPTER 15 As he ran, the Marionette felt more and more certain that he would have to give himself up into the hands of his pursuers. Suddenly he saw a little cottage gleaming white as the snow among the trees of the forest. "If I have enough breath left with which to reach that little house, I may be saved," he said to himself. Not waiting another moment, he darted swiftly through the woods, the Assassins still after him. After a hard race of almost an hour, tired and out of breath, Pinocchio finally reached the door of the cottage and knocked. No one answered. He knocked again, harder than before, for behind him he heard the steps and the labored breathing of his persecutors. The same silence followed. As knocking was of no use, Pinocchio, in despair, began to kick and bang against the door, as if he wanted to break it. At the noise, a window opened and a lovely maiden looked out. She had azure hair and a face white as wax. Her eyes were closed and her hands crossed on her breast. With a voice so weak that it hardly could be heard, she whispered: "No one lives in this house. Everyone is dead." "Won\'t you, at least, open the door for me?" cried Pinocchio in a beseeching voice. "I also am dead." "Dead? What are you doing at the window, then?" "I am waiting for the coffin to take me away." After these words, the little girl disappeared and the window closed without a sound. "Oh, Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair," cried Pinocchio, "open, I beg of you. Take pity on a poor boy who is being chased by two Assass--" He did not finish, for two powerful hands grasped him by the neck and the same two horrible voices growled threateningly: "Now we have you!" The Marionette, seeing death dancing before him, trembled so hard that the joints of his legs rattled and the coins tinkled under his tongue. "Well," the Assassins asked, "will you open your mouth now or not? Ah! You do not answer? Very well, this time you shall open it."', "Taking out two long, sharp knives, they struck two heavy blows on the Marionette's back.", 'Happily for him, Pinocchio was made of very hard wood and the knives broke into a thousand pieces. The Assassins looked at each other in dismay, holding the handles of the knives in their hands. "I understand," said one of them to the other, "there is nothing left to do now but to hang him." "To hang him," repeated the other.', "They tied Pinocchio's hands behind his shoulders and slipped the noose around his neck. Throwing the rope over the high limb of a giant oak tree, they pulled till the poor Marionette hung far up in space.", "Satisfied with their work, they sat on the grass waiting for Pinocchio to give his last gasp. But after three hours the Marionette's eyes were still open, his mouth still shut and his legs kicked harder than ever.", 'Tired of waiting, the Assassins called to him mockingly: "Good-by till tomorrow. When we return in the morning, we hope you\'ll be polite enough to let us find you dead and gone and with your mouth wide open." With these words they went. A few minutes went by and then a wild wind started to blow. As it shrieked and moaned, the poor little sufferer was blown to and fro like the hammer of a bell. The rocking made him seasick and the noose, becoming tighter and tighter, choked him. Little by little a film covered his eyes. Death was creeping nearer and nearer, and the Marionette still hoped for some good soul to come to his rescue, but no one appeared. As he was about to die, he thought of his poor old father, and hardly conscious of what he was saying, murmured to himself: "Oh, Father, dear Father! If you were only here!" These were his last words. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, stretched out his legs, and hung there, as if he were dead. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn192.txt b/text/sn192.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f094b80a9aa33c458885982d7d12a915f21a1f59 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn192.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The blue fairy summons three magical doctors - a falkan, a poodle and a cricket - to find out if Pinocchio is alive or dead. The learned doctors disagree on almost every point of fact. Catch up with earlier chapters here. If the poor Marionette had dangled there much longer, all hope would have been lost. Luckily for him, the Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair once again looked out of her window. Filled with pity at the sight of the poor little fellow being knocked helplessly about by the wind, she clapped her hands sharply together three times. At the signal, a loud whirr of wings in quick flight was heard and a large Falcon came and settled itself on the window ledge. "What do you command, my charming Fairy?" asked the Falcon, bending his beak in deep reverence (for it must be known that, after all, the Lovely Maiden with Azure Hair was none other than a very kind Fairy who had lived, for more than a thousand years, in the vicinity of the forest). "Do you see that Marionette hanging from the limb of that giant oak tree?" "I see him." "Very well. Fly immediately to him. With your strong beak, break the knot which holds him tied, take him down, and lay him softly on the grass at the foot of the oak." The Falcon flew away and after two minutes returned, saying, "I have done what you have commanded." "How did you find him? Alive or dead?" "At first glance, I thought he was dead. But I found I was wrong, for as soon as I loosened the knot around his neck, he gave a long sigh and mumbled with a faint voice, \'Now I feel better!\'" The Fairy clapped her hands twice. A magnificent Poodle appeared, walking on his hind legs just like a man. He was dressed in court livery. A tricorn trimmed with gold lace was set at a rakish angle over a wig of white curls that dropped down to his waist. He wore a jaunty coat of chocolate-colored velvet, with diamond buttons, and with two huge pockets which were always filled with bones, dropped there at dinner by his loving mistress. Breeches of crimson velvet, silk stockings, and low, silver-buckled slippers completed his costume. His tail was encased in a blue silk covering, which was to protect it from the rain. "Come, Medoro," said the Fairy to him. "Get my best coach ready and set out toward the forest. On reaching the oak tree, you will find a poor, half-dead Marionette stretched out on the grass. Lift him up tenderly, place him on the silken cushions of the coach, and bring him here to me." The Poodle, to show that he understood, wagged his silk-covered tail two or three times and set off at a quick pace.', "In a few minutes, a lovely little coach, made of glass, with lining as soft as whipped cream and chocolate pudding, and stuffed with canary feathers, pulled out of the stable. It was drawn by one hundred pairs of white mice, and the Poodle sat on the coachman's seat and snapped his whip gayly in the air, as if he were a real coachman in a hurry to get to his destination.", 'In a quarter of an hour the coach was back. The Fairy, who was waiting at the door of the house, lifted the poor little Marionette in her arms, took him to a dainty room with mother-of-pearl walls, put him to bed, and sent immediately for the most famous doctors of the neighborhood to come to her. One after another the doctors came, a Crow, and Owl, and a Talking Cricket. "I should like to know, signori," said the Fairy, turning to the three doctors gathered about Pinocchio\'s bed, "I should like to know if this poor Marionette is dead or alive."', "At this invitation, the Crow stepped out and felt Pinocchio's pulse, his nose, his little toe. Then he solemnly pronounced the following words:", '"To my mind this Marionette is dead and gone; but if, by any evil chance, he were not, then that would be a sure sign that he is still alive!" "I am sorry," said the Owl, "to have to contradict the Crow, my famous friend and colleague. To my mind this Marionette is alive; but if, by any evil chance, he were not, then that would be a sure sign that he is wholly dead!" "And do you hold any opinion?" the Fairy asked the Talking Cricket. "I say that a wise doctor, when he does not know what he is talking about, should know enough to keep his mouth shut. However, that Marionette is not a stranger to me. I have known him a long time!" Pinocchio, who until then had been very quiet, shuddered so hard that the bed shook. "That Marionette," continued the Talking Cricket, "is a rascal of the worst kind." Pinocchio opened his eyes and closed them again. "He is rude, lazy, a runaway." Pinocchio hid his face under the sheets. "That Marionette is a disobedient son who is breaking his father\'s heart!" Long shuddering sobs were heard, cries, and deep sighs. Think how surprised everyone was when, on raising the sheets, they discovered Pinocchio half melted in tears! "When the dead weep, they are beginning to recover," said the Crow solemnly. "I am sorry to contradict my famous friend and colleague," said the Owl, "but as far as I\'m concerned, I think that when the dead weep, it means they do not want to die." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn193.txt b/text/sn193.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d0ec48e21503f78cd561a0259dfeb4be48cd664e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn193.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio is alive but very unwell. The Azure Fairy asks him to take some medicine. He noisily refuses until some rabbits arrive and give him a nasty fright! ', "This is also the chapter where Pinocchio's nose grows when he tells a lie. ", "Natasha's rendition of Pinocchio's petulant voice is hilarious. One of Chiara's most beautiful pictures shows Pinocchio's nose growing. All in all this is a great chapter. ", ' Catch up with earlier chapters here. CHAPTER 17', "As soon as the three doctors had left the room, the Fairy went to Pinocchio's bed and, touching him on the forehead, noticed that he was burning with fever.", 'She took a glass of water, put a white powder into it, and, handing it to the Marionette, said lovingly to him: "Drink this, and in a few days you\'ll be up and well." Pinocchio looked at the glass, made a wry face, and asked in a whining voice: "Is it sweet or bitter?" "It is bitter, but it is good for you." "If it is bitter, I don\'t want it." "Drink it!" "I don\'t like anything bitter." "Drink it and I\'ll give you a lump of sugar to take the bitter taste from your mouth." "Where\'s the sugar?" "Here it is," said the Fairy, taking a lump from a golden sugar bowl. "I want the sugar first, then I\'ll drink the bitter water." "Do you promise?" "Yes." The Fairy gave him the sugar and Pinocchio, after chewing and swallowing it in a twinkling, said, smacking his lips: "If only sugar were medicine! I should take it every day." "Now keep your promise and drink these few drops of water. They\'ll be good for you." Pinocchio took the glass in both hands and stuck his nose into it. He lifted it to his mouth and once more stuck his nose into it. "It is too bitter, much too bitter! I can\'t drink it." "How do you know, when you haven\'t even tasted it?" "I can imagine it. I smell it. I want another lump of sugar, then I\'ll drink it." The Fairy, with all the patience of a good mother, gave him more sugar and again handed him the glass. "I can\'t drink it like that," the Marionette said, making more wry faces. "Why?" "Because that feather pillow on my feet bothers me." The Fairy took away the pillow. "It\'s no use. I can\'t drink it even now." "What\'s the matter now?" "I don\'t like the way that door looks. It\'s half open." The Fairy closed the door. "I won\'t drink it," cried Pinocchio, bursting out crying. "I won\'t drink this awful water. I won\'t. I won\'t! No, no, no, no!" "My boy, you\'ll be sorry." "I don\'t care." "You are very sick." "I don\'t care." "In a few hours the fever will take you far away to another world." "I don\'t care." "Aren\'t you afraid of death?" "Not a bit. I\'d rather die than drink that awful medicine." At that moment, the door of the room flew open and in came four Rabbits as black as ink, carrying a small black coffin on their shoulders. "What do you want from me?" asked Pinocchio. "We have come for you," said the largest Rabbit. "For me? But I\'m not dead yet!" "No, not dead yet; but you will be in a few moments since you have refused to take the medicine which would have made you well." "Oh, Fairy, my Fairy," the Marionette cried out, "give me that glass! Quick, please! I don\'t want to die! No, no, not yet--not yet!" And holding the glass with his two hands, he swallowed the medicine at one gulp. "Well," said the four Rabbits, "this time we have made the trip for nothing." And turning on their heels, they marched solemnly out of the room, carrying their little black coffin and muttering and grumbling between their teeth. In a twinkling, Pinocchio felt fine. With one leap he was out of bed and into his clothes. The Fairy, seeing him run and jump around the room gay as a bird on wing, said to him: "My medicine was good for you, after all, wasn\'t it?" "Good indeed! It has given me new life." "Why, then, did I have to beg you so hard to make you drink it?" "I\'m a boy, you see, and all boys hate medicine more than they do sickness." "What a shame! Boys ought to know, after all, that medicine, taken in time, can save them from much pain and even from death." "Next time I won\'t have to be begged so hard. I\'ll remember those black Rabbits with the black coffin on their shoulders and I\'ll take the glass and pouf!--down it will go!" "Come here now and tell me how it came about that you found yourself in the hands of the Assassins." "It happened that Fire Eater gave me five gold pieces to give to my Father, but on the way, I met a Fox and a Cat, who asked me, \'Do you want the five pieces to become two thousand?\' And I said, \'Yes.\' And they said, \'Come with us to the Field of Wonders.\' And I said, \'Let\'s go.\' Then they said, \'Let us stop at the Inn of the Red Lobster for dinner and after midnight we\'ll set out again.\' We ate and went to sleep. When I awoke they were gone and I started out in the darkness all alone. On the road I met two Assassins dressed in black coal sacks, who said to me, \'Your money or your life!\' and I said, \'I haven\'t any money\'; for, you see, I had put the money under my tongue. One of them tried to put his hand in my mouth and I bit it off and spat it out; but it wasn\'t a hand, it was a cat\'s paw. And they ran after me and I ran and ran, till at last they caught me and tied my neck with a rope and hanged me to a tree, saying, \'Tomorrow we\'ll come back for you and you\'ll be dead and your mouth will be open, and then we\'ll take the gold pieces that you have hidden under your tongue.\'" "Where are the gold pieces now?" the Fairy asked. "I lost them," answered Pinocchio, but he told a lie, for he had them in his pocket. As he spoke, his nose, long though it was, became at least two inches longer. "And where did you lose them?" "In the wood near by." At this second lie, his nose grew a few more inches. "If you lost them in the near-by wood," said the Fairy, "we\'ll look for them and find them, for everything that is lost there is always found." "Ah, now I remember," replied the Marionette, becoming more and more confused. "I did not lose the gold pieces, but I swallowed them when I drank the medicine."', "At this third lie, his nose became longer than ever, so long that he could not even turn around. If he turned to the right, he knocked it against the bed or into the windowpanes; if he turned to the left, he struck the walls or the door; if he raised it a bit, he almost put the Fairy's eyes out.", 'The Fairy sat looking at him and laughing. "Why do you laugh?" the Marionette asked her, worried now at the sight of his growing nose. "I am laughing at your lies." "How do you know I am lying?" "Lies, my boy, are known in a moment. There are two kinds of lies, lies with short legs and lies with long noses. Yours, just now, happen to have long noses." Pinocchio, not knowing where to hide his shame, tried to escape from the room, but his nose had become so long that he could not get it out of the door. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn194.txt b/text/sn194.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..8216c656f90ad53500b9af03d6a6db778cbb1264 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn194.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio has a wonderful chance to live with the Azure Fairy who invites his father Geppetto to join them. If he was smart he could see that all his problems are over. But oh ! Has he learned anything on his adventures so far? He meets his old friends the fox and the cat... CHAPTER 18 Pinocchio finds the Fox and the Cat again, and goes with them to sow the gold pieces in the Field of Wonders. ', "Crying as if his heart would break, the Marionette mourned for hours over the length of his nose. No matter how he tried, it would not go through the door. The Fairy showed no pity toward him, as she was trying to teach him a good lesson, so that he would stop telling lies, the worst habit any boy may acquire. But when she saw him, pale with fright and with his eyes half out of his head from terror, she began to feel sorry for him and clapped her hands together. A thousand woodpeckers flew in through the window and settled themselves on Pinocchio's nose. They pecked and pecked so hard at that enormous nose that in a few moments, it was the same size as before.", '"How good you are, my Fairy," said Pinocchio, drying his eyes, "and how much I love you!" "I love you, too," answered the Fairy, "and if you wish to stay with me, you may be my little brother and I\'ll be your good little sister." "I should like to stay--but what about my poor father?" "I have thought of everything. Your father has been sent for and before night he will be here." "Really?" cried Pinocchio joyfully. "Then, my good Fairy, if you are willing, I should like to go to meet him. I cannot wait to kiss that dear old man, who has suffered so much for my sake." "Surely; go ahead, but be careful not to lose your way. Take the wood path and you\'ll surely meet him." Pinocchio set out, and as soon as he found himself in the wood, he ran like a hare. When he reached the giant oak tree he stopped, for he thought he heard a rustle in the brush. He was right. There stood the Fox and the Cat, the two traveling companions with whom he had eaten at the Inn of the Red Lobster. "Here comes our dear Pinocchio!" cried the Fox, hugging and kissing him. "How did you happen here?" "How did you happen here?" repeated the Cat. "It is a long story," said the Marionette. "Let me tell it to you. The other night, when you left me alone at the Inn, I met the Assassins on the road--" "The Assassins? Oh, my poor friend! And what did they want?" "They wanted my gold pieces." "Rascals!" said the Fox. "The worst sort of rascals!" added the Cat. "But I began to run," continued the Marionette, "and they after me, until they overtook me and hanged me to the limb of that oak." Pinocchio pointed to the giant oak near by. "Could anything be worse?" said the Fox. "What an awful world to live in! Where shall we find a safe place for gentlemen like ourselves?" As the Fox talked thus, Pinocchio noticed that the Cat carried his right paw in a sling. "What happened to your paw?" he asked. The Cat tried to answer, but he became so terribly twisted in his speech that the Fox had to help him out. "My friend is too modest to answer. I\'ll answer for him. About an hour ago, we met an old wolf on the road. He was half starved and begged for help. Having nothing to give him, what do you think my friend did out of the kindness of his heart? With his teeth, he bit off the paw of his front foot and threw it at that poor beast, so that he might have something to eat." As he spoke, the Fox wiped off a tear.', "Pinocchio, almost in tears himself, whispered in the Cat's ear:", '"If all the cats were like you, how lucky the mice would be!" "And what are you doing here?" the Fox asked the Marionette. "I am waiting for my father, who will be here at any moment now." "And your gold pieces?" "I still have them in my pocket, except one which I spent at the Inn of the Red Lobster." "To think that those four gold pieces might become two thousand tomorrow. Why don\'t you listen to me? Why don\'t you sow them in the Field of Wonders?" "Today it is impossible. I\'ll go with you some other time." "Another day will be too late," said the Fox. "Why?" "Because that field has been bought by a very rich man, and today is the last day that it will be open to the public." "How far is this Field of Wonders?" "Only two miles away. Will you come with us? We\'ll be there in half an hour. You can sow the money, and, after a few minutes, you will gather your two thousand coins and return home rich. Are you coming?" Pinocchio hesitated a moment before answering, for he remembered the good Fairy, old Geppetto, and the advice of the Talking Cricket. Then he ended by doing what all boys do, when they have no heart and little brain. He shrugged his shoulders and said to the Fox and the Cat: "Let us go! I am with you." And they went. They walked and walked for a half a day at least and at last they came to the town called the City of Simple Simons. As soon as they entered the town, Pinocchio noticed that all the streets were filled with hairless \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn195.txt b/text/sn195.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..eeb4ed96aebd691873519b697f82450f87c3f476 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn195.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Is there justice in this world? Or are the victims the ones who have the most scorn and punishment in return for their simple-mindedness? When Pinocchio returns to the field of dreams, he receives justice of a sort from a judge who is also a gorilla. Pinocchio is robbed of his gold pieces and, in punishment, is sentenced to four months in prison. If the Marionette had been told to wait a day instead of twenty minutes, the time could not have seemed longer to him. He walked impatiently to and fro and finally turned his nose toward the Field of Wonders. And as he walked with hurried steps, his heart beat with an excited tic, tac, tic, tac, just as if it were a wall clock, and his busy brain kept thinking: "What if, instead of a thousand, I should find two thousand? Or if, instead of two thousand, I should find five thousand--or one hundred thousand? I\'ll build myself a beautiful palace, with a thousand stables filled with a thousand wooden horses to play with, a cellar overflowing with lemonade and ice cream soda, and a library of candies and fruits, cakes and cookies." Thus amusing himself with fancies, he came to the field. There he stopped to see if, by any chance, a vine filled with gold coins was in sight. But he saw nothing! He took a few steps forward, and still nothing! He stepped into the field. He went up to the place where he had dug the hole and buried the gold pieces. Again nothing! Pinocchio became very thoughtful and, forgetting his good manners altogether, he pulled a hand out of his pocket and gave his head a thorough scratching. As he did so, he heard a hearty burst of laughter close to his head. He turned sharply, and there, just above him on the branch of a tree, sat a large Parrot, busily preening his feathers. "What are you laughing at?" Pinocchio asked peevishly. "I am laughing because, in preening my feathers, I tickled myself under the wings." The Marionette did not answer. He walked to the brook, filled his shoe with water, and once more sprinkled the ground which covered the gold pieces. Another burst of laughter, even more impertinent than the first, was heard in the quiet field. "Well," cried the Marionette, angrily this time, "may I know, Mr. Parrot, what amuses you so?" "I am laughing at those simpletons who believe everything they hear and who allow themselves to be caught so easily in the traps set for them." "Do you, perhaps, mean me?" "I certainly do mean you, poor Pinocchio--you who are such a little silly as to believe that gold can be sown in a field just like beans or squash. I, too, believed that once and today I am very sorry for it. Today (but too late!) I have reached the conclusion that, in order to come by money honestly, one must work and know how to earn it with hand or brain." "I don\'t know what you are talking about," said the Marionette, who was beginning to tremble with fear. "Too bad! I\'ll explain myself better," said the Parrot. "While you were away in the city the Fox and the Cat returned here in a great hurry. They took the four gold pieces which you have buried and ran away as fast as the wind. If you can catch them, you\'re a brave one!"', "Pinocchio's mouth opened wide. He would not believe the Parrot's words and began to dig away furiously at the earth. He dug and he dug till the hole was as big as himself, but no money was there. Every penny was gone.", 'In desperation, he ran to the city and went straight to the courthouse to report the robbery to the magistrate. The Judge was a Monkey, a large Gorilla venerable with age. A flowing white beard covered his chest and he wore gold-rimmed spectacles from which the glasses had dropped out. The reason for wearing these, he said, was that his eyes had been weakened by the work of many years. Pinocchio, standing before him, told his pitiful tale, word by word. He gave the names and the descriptions of the robbers and begged for justice. The Judge listened to him with great patience. A kind look shone in his eyes. He became very much interested in the story; he felt moved; he almost wept. When the Marionette had no more to say, the Judge put out his hand and rang a bell.', "At the sound, two large Mastiffs appeared, dressed in Carabineers' uniforms.", 'Then the magistrate, pointing to Pinocchio, said in a very solemn voice: "This poor simpleton has been robbed of four gold pieces. Take him, therefore, and throw him into prison." The Marionette, on hearing this sentence passed upon him, was thoroughly stunned. He tried to protest, but the two officers clapped their paws on his mouth and hustled him away to jail. There he had to remain for four long, weary months. And if it had not been for a very lucky chance, he probably would have had to stay there longer. For, my dear children, you must know that it happened just then that the young emperor who ruled over the City of Simple Simons had gained a great victory over his enemy, and in celebration thereof, he had ordered illuminations, fireworks, shows of all kinds, and, best of all, the opening of all prison doors. "If the others go, I go, too," said Pinocchio to the Jailer. "Not you," answered the Jailer. "You are one of those--" "I beg your pardon," interrupted Pinocchio, "I, too, am a thief." "In that case you also are free," said the Jailer. Taking off his cap, he bowed low and opened the door of the prison, and Pinocchio ran out and away, with never a look backward. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn196.txt b/text/sn196.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..e52ab9cc2531105481ee8fbdfaa36b14d7a9ce47 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn196.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Hurray! Pinocchio is free. But oh no, he's NOT free again. His fortunes change SO quickly. In this episode, he meets a serpent blocking the road - is the creature dead or alive? Pinocchio is in for a shock. ", ' Catch up with earlier chapters here. Freed from prison, Pinocchio sets out to return to the Fairy; but on the way he meets a Serpent and later is caught in a trap. Fancy the happiness of Pinocchio on finding himself free! Without saying yes or no, he fled from the city and set out on the road that was to take him back to the house of the lovely Fairy. It had rained for many days, and the road was so muddy that, at times, Pinocchio sank down almost to his knees. But he kept on bravely. Tormented by the wish to see his father and his fairy sister with azure hair, he raced like a greyhound. As he ran, he was splashed with mud even up to his cap. "How unhappy I have been," he said to himself. "And yet I deserve everything, for I am certainly very stubborn and stupid! I will always have my own way. I won\'t listen to those who love me and who have more brains than I. But from now on, I\'ll be different and I\'ll try to become a most obedient boy. I have found out, beyond any doubt whatever, that disobedient boys are certainly far from happy, and that, in the long run, they always lose out. I wonder if Father is waiting for me. Will I find him at the Fairy\'s house? It is so long, poor man, since I have seen him, and I do so want his love and his kisses. And will the Fairy ever forgive me for all I have done? She who has been so good to me and to whom I owe my life! Can there be a worse or more heartless boy than I am anywhere?" As he spoke, he stopped suddenly, frozen with terror. What was the matter? An immense Serpent lay stretched across the road--a Serpent with a bright green skin, fiery eyes which glowed and burned, and a pointed tail that smoked like a chimney. How frightened was poor Pinocchio! He ran back wildly for half a mile, and at last settled himself atop a heap of stones to wait for the Serpent to go on his way and leave the road clear for him. He waited an hour; two hours; three hours; but the Serpent was always there, and even from afar one could see the flash of his red eyes and the column of smoke which rose from his long, pointed tail. Pinocchio, trying to feel very brave, walked straight up to him and said in a sweet, soothing voice: "I beg your pardon, Mr. Serpent, would you be so kind as to step aside to let me pass?" He might as well have talked to a wall. The Serpent never moved. Once more, in the same sweet voice, he spoke: "You must know, Mr. Serpent, that I am going home where my father is waiting for me. It is so long since I have seen him! Would you mind very much if I passed?" He waited for some sign of an answer to his questions, but the answer did not come. On the contrary, the green Serpent, who had seemed, until then, wide awake and full of life, became suddenly very quiet and still. His eyes closed and his tail stopped smoking. "Is he dead, I wonder?" said Pinocchio, rubbing his hands together happily. Without a moment\'s hesitation, he started to step over him, but he had just raised one leg when the Serpent shot up like a spring and the Marionette fell head over heels backward. He fell so awkwardly that his head stuck in the mud, and there he stood with his legs straight up in the air. At the sight of the Marionette kicking and squirming like a young whirlwind, the Serpent laughed so heartily and so long that at last he burst an artery and died on the spot.', "Pinocchio freed himself from his awkward position and once more began to run in order to reach the Fairy's house before dark. As he went, the pangs of hunger grew so strong that, unable to withstand them, he jumped into a field to pick a few grapes that tempted him. Woe to him!", 'No sooner had he reached the grapevine than--crack! went his legs. The poor Marionette was caught in a trap set there by a Farmer for some Weasels which came every night to steal his chickens. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn197.txt b/text/sn197.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..3de9f6a6fc003bb46e642d7d1e93b7f22eb2954f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn197.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio does not seem able to stay free for long. He is caught in a farmer's trap. The farmer has an original idea about how to set the wooden puppet to work as a punishment for straying into his field. ", ' CHAPTER 21 Pinocchio, as you may well imagine, began to scream and weep and beg; but all was of no use, for no houses were to be seen and not a soul passed by on the road. Night came on. A little because of the sharp pain in his legs, a little because of fright at finding himself alone in the darkness of the field, the Marionette was about to faint, when he saw a tiny Glowworm flickering by. He called to her and said: "Dear little Glowworm, will you set me free?" "Poor little fellow!" replied the Glowworm, stopping to look at him with pity. "How came you to be caught in this trap?" "I stepped into this lonely field to take a few grapes and--" "Are the grapes yours?" "No." "Who has taught you to take things that do not belong to you?" "I was hungry." "Hunger, my boy, is no reason for taking something which belongs to another." "It\'s true, it\'s true!" cried Pinocchio in tears. "I won\'t do it again." Just then, the conversation was interrupted by approaching footsteps. It was the owner of the field, who was coming on tiptoes to see if, by chance, he had caught the Weasels which had been eating his chickens. Great was his surprise when, on holding up his lantern, he saw that, instead of a Weasel, he had caught a boy! "Ah, you little thief!" said the Farmer in an angry voice. "So you are the one who steals my chickens!" "Not I! No, no!" cried Pinocchio, sobbing bitterly. "I came here only to take a very few grapes." "He who steals grapes may very easily steal chickens also. Take my word for it, I\'ll give you a lesson that you\'ll remember for a long while." He opened the trap, grabbed the Marionette by the collar, and carried him to the house as if he were a puppy. When he reached the yard in front of the house, he flung him to the ground, put a foot on his neck, and said to him roughly: "It is late now and it\'s time for bed. Tomorrow we\'ll settle matters. In the meantime, since my watchdog died today, you may take his place and guard my henhouse."', "No sooner said than done. He slipped a dog collar around Pinocchio's neck and tightened it so that it would not come off. A long iron chain was tied to the collar. The other end of the chain was nailed to the wall.", '"If tonight it should happen to rain," said the Farmer, "you can sleep in that little doghouse near-by, where you will find plenty of straw for a soft bed. It has been Melampo\'s bed for three years, and it will be good enough for you. And if, by any chance, any thieves should come, be sure to bark!" After this last warning, the Farmer went into the house and closed the door and barred it. Poor Pinocchio huddled close to the doghouse more dead than alive from cold, hunger, and fright. Now and again he pulled and tugged at the collar which nearly choked him and cried out in a weak voice: "I deserve it! Yes, I deserve it! I have been nothing but a truant and a vagabond. I have never obeyed anyone and I have always done as I pleased. If I were only like so many others and had studied and worked and stayed with my poor old father, I should not find myself here now, in this field and in the darkness, taking the place of a farmer\'s watchdog. Oh, if I could start all over again! But what is done can\'t be undone, and I must be patient!" After this little sermon to himself, which came from the very depths of his heart, Pinocchio went into the doghouse and fell asleep. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn198.txt b/text/sn198.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..4c82c4ec9a35a980aeb1a8ab278a4056b8007ce9 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn198.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Like it or not, Pinocchio has a job as a guard-dog. Some theives soon come along and try to tempt him with a deal. Will Pinocchio take the bribe? Do you think he is all bad? Even though a boy may be very unhappy, he very seldom loses sleep over his worries. The Marionette, being no exception to this rule, slept on peacefully for a few hours till well along toward midnight, when he was awakened by strange whisperings and stealthy sounds coming from the yard. He stuck his nose out of the doghouse and saw four slender, hairy animals. They were Weasels, small animals very fond of both eggs and chickens. One of them left her companions and, going to the door of the doghouse, said in a sweet voice: "Good evening, Melampo." "My name is not Melampo," answered Pinocchio. "Who are you, then?" "I am Pinocchio." "What are you doing here?" "I\'m the watchdog." "But where is Melampo? Where is the old dog who used to live in this house?" "He died this morning." "Died? Poor beast! He was so good! Still, judging by your face, I think you, too, are a good-natured dog." "I beg your pardon, I am not a dog!" "What are you, then?" "I am a Marionette." "Are you taking the place of the watchdog?" "I\'m sorry to say that I am. I\'m being punished." "Well, I shall make the same terms with you that we had with the dead Melampo. I am sure you will be glad to hear them." "And what are the terms?" "This is our plan: We\'ll come once in a while, as in the past, to pay a visit to this henhouse, and we\'ll take away eight chickens. Of these, seven are for us, and one for you, provided, of course, that you will make believe you are sleeping and will not bark for the Farmer." "Did Melampo really do that?" asked Pinocchio. "Indeed he did, and because of that we were the best of friends. Sleep away peacefully, and remember that before we go we shall leave you a nice fat chicken all ready for your breakfast in the morning. Is that understood?" "Even too well," answered Pinocchio. And shaking his head in a threatening manner, he seemed to say, "We\'ll talk this over in a few minutes, my friends." As soon as the four Weasels had talked things over, they went straight to the chicken coop which stood close to the doghouse. Digging busily with teeth and claws, they opened the little door and slipped in. But they were no sooner in than they heard the door close with a sharp bang. The one who had done the trick was Pinocchio, who, not satisfied with that, dragged a heavy stone in front of it. That done, he started to bark. And he barked as if he were a real watchdog: "Bow, wow, wow! Bow, wow!" The Farmer heard the loud barks and jumped out of bed. Taking his gun, he leaped to the window and shouted: "What\'s the matter?" "The thieves are here," answered Pinocchio. "Where are they?" "In the chicken coop." "I\'ll come down in a second." And, in fact, he was down in the yard in a twinkling and running toward the chicken coop. He opened the door, pulled out the Weasels one by one, and, after tying them in a bag, said to them in a happy voice: "You\'re in my hands at last! I could punish you now, but I\'ll wait! In the morning you may come with me to the inn and there you\'ll make a fine dinner for some hungry mortal. It is really too great an honor for you, one you do not deserve; but, as you see, I am really a very kind and generous man and I am going to do this for you!" Then he went up to Pinocchio and began to pet and caress him. "How did you ever find them out so quickly? And to think that Melampo, my faithful Melampo, never saw them in all these years!" The Marionette could have told, then and there, all he knew about the shameful contract between the dog and the Weasels, but thinking of the dead dog, he said to himself: "Melampo is dead. What is the use of accusing him? The dead are gone and they cannot defend themselves. The best thing to do is to leave them in peace!" "Were you awake or asleep when they came?" continued the Farmer. "I was asleep," answered Pinocchio, "but they awakened me with their whisperings. One of them even came to the door of the doghouse and said to me, \'If you promise not to bark, we will make you a present of one of the chickens for your breakfast.\' Did you hear that? They had the audacity to make such a proposition as that to me! For you must know that, though I am a very wicked Marionette full of faults, still I never have been, nor ever shall be, bribed." "Fine boy!" cried the Farmer, slapping him on the shoulder in a friendly way. "You ought to be proud of yourself. And to show you what I think of you, you are free from this instant!" And he slipped the dog collar from his neck. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn199.txt b/text/sn199.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9e2c665b300451b377befa676c628edc8530f1ab --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn199.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This chapter starts with some sad news about the azure fairy, and then some exciting news about Pinocchio's father. Pinocchio must get to the seashore urgently. A kind pigeon comes to his aid, unlike the cat and the fox, really does not want any reward for a kind deed.", " As soon as Pinocchio no longer felt the shameful weight of the dog collar around his neck, he started to run across the fields and meadows, and never stopped till he came to the main road that was to take him to the Fairy's house.", 'When he reached it, he looked into the valley far below him and there he saw the wood where unluckily he had met the Fox and the Cat, and the tall oak tree where he had been hanged; but though he searched far and near, he could not see the house where the Fairy with the Azure Hair lived. He became terribly frightened and, running as fast as he could, he finally came to the spot where it had once stood. The little house was no longer there. In its place lay a small marble slab, which bore this sad inscription: HERE LIES THE LOVELY FAIRY WITH AZURE HAIR WHO DIED OF GRIEF WHEN ABANDONED BY HER LITTLE BROTHER PINOCCHIO The poor Marionette was heartbroken at reading these words. He fell to the ground and, covering the cold marble with kisses, burst into bitter tears. He cried all night, and dawn found him still there, though his tears had dried and only hard, dry sobs shook his wooden frame. But these were so loud that they could be heard by the faraway hills. As he sobbed he said to himself: "Oh, my Fairy, my dear, dear Fairy, why did you die? Why did I not die, who am so bad, instead of you, who are so good? And my father--where can he be? Please dear Fairy, tell me where he is and I shall never, never leave him again! You are not really dead, are you? If you love me, you will come back, alive as before. Don\'t you feel sorry for me? I\'m so lonely. If the two Assassins come, they\'ll hang me again from the giant oak tree and I will really die, this time. What shall I do alone in the world? Now that you are dead and my father is lost, where shall I eat? Where shall I sleep? Who will make my new clothes? Oh, I want to die! Yes, I want to die! Oh, oh, oh!" Poor Pinocchio! He even tried to tear his hair, but as it was only painted on his wooden head, he could not even pull it. Just then a large Pigeon flew far above him. Seeing the Marionette, he cried to him: "Tell me, little boy, what are you doing there?" "Can\'t you see? I\'m crying," cried Pinocchio, lifting his head toward the voice and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "Tell me," asked the Pigeon, "do you by chance know of a Marionette, Pinocchio by name?" "Pinocchio! Did you say Pinocchio?" replied the Marionette, jumping to his feet. "Why, I am Pinocchio!" At this answer, the Pigeon flew swiftly down to the earth. He was much larger than a turkey. "Then you know Geppetto also?" "Do I know him? He\'s my father, my poor, dear father! Has he, perhaps, spoken to you of me? Will you take me to him? Is he still alive? Answer me, please! Is he still alive?" "I left him three days ago on the shore of a large sea." "What was he doing?" "He was building a little boat with which to cross the ocean. For the last four months, that poor man has been wandering around Europe, looking for you. Not having found you yet, he has made up his mind to look for you in the New World, far across the ocean." "How far is it from here to the shore?" asked Pinocchio anxiously. "More than fifty miles." "Fifty miles? Oh, dear Pigeon, how I wish I had your wings!" "If you want to come, I\'ll take you with me." "How?" "Astride my back. Are you very heavy?" "Heavy? Not at all. I\'m only a feather." "Very well."', "Saying nothing more, Pinocchio jumped on the Pigeon's back and, as he settled himself, he cried out gayly:", '"Gallop on, gallop on, my pretty steed! I\'m in a great hurry."', "The Pigeon flew away, and in a few minutes he had reached the clouds. The Marionette looked to see what was below them. His head swam and he was so frightened that he clutched wildly at the Pigeon's neck to keep himself from falling.", 'They flew all day. Toward evening the Pigeon said: "I\'m very thirsty!" "And I\'m very hungry!" said Pinocchio. "Let us stop a few minutes at that pigeon coop down there. Then we can go on and be at the seashore in the morning." They went into the empty coop and there they found nothing but a bowl of water and a small basket filled with chick-peas. The Marionette had always hated chick-peas. According to him, they had always made him sick; but that night he ate them with a relish. As he finished them, he turned to the Pigeon and said: "I never should have thought that chick-peas could be so good!" "You must remember, my boy," answered the Pigeon, "that hunger is the best sauce!" After resting a few minutes longer, they set out again. The next morning they were at the seashore.', "Pinocchio jumped off the Pigeon's back, and the Pigeon, not wanting any thanks for a kind deed, flew away swiftly and disappeared.", 'The shore was full of people, shrieking and tearing their hair as they looked toward the sea. "What has happened?" asked Pinocchio of a little old woman. "A poor old father lost his only son some time ago and today he built a tiny boat for himself in order to go in search of him across the ocean. The water is very rough and we\'re afraid he will be drowned." "Where is the little boat?" "There. Straight down there," answered the little old woman, pointing to a tiny shadow, no bigger than a nutshell, floating on the sea. Pinocchio looked closely for a few minutes and then gave a sharp cry: "It\'s my father! It\'s my father!" Meanwhile, the little boat, tossed about by the angry waters, appeared and disappeared in the waves. And Pinocchio, standing on a high rock, tired out with searching, waved to him with hand and cap and even with his nose. It looked as if Geppetto, though far away from the shore, recognized his son, for he took off his cap and waved also. He seemed to be trying to make everyone understand that he would come back if he were able, but the sea was so heavy that he could do nothing with his oars. Suddenly a huge wave came and the boat disappeared. They waited and waited for it, but it was gone. "Poor man!" said the fisher folk on the shore, whispering a prayer as they turned to go home. Just then a desperate cry was heard. Turning around, the fisher folk saw Pinocchio dive into the sea and heard him cry out: "I\'ll save him! I\'ll save my father!" The Marionette, being made of wood, floated easily along and swam like a fish in the rough water. Now and again he disappeared only to reappear once more. In a twinkling, he was far away from land. At last he was completely lost to view. "Poor boy!" cried the fisher folk on the shore, and again they mumbled a few prayers, as they returned home. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn2.txt b/text/sn2.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..88bad4f3f918c55242ac3b6f98f4c820681e7c44 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn2.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +It’s all very strange indeed. But perhaps it’s not quite so extraordinary when you know that Isis went to the same school as Katie. by Nicholai Gogol. Story by Bertie. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Loads of people are always saying that Isis is an exceptionally pretty little girl. They say things like: “What lovely blonde hair she has!”and “What wonderful blue eyes!” and “Such a sweet nose!” and “What a darling little mouth!” And Isis likes it when people say such things about her. And there’s something else that makes her happy – it’s that everyone at school wants to be friends with her. In fact, she’s so popular that every girl in her class is simply dying to go to her birthday party. But Isis couldn’t invite just anyone to her party. And especially, she couldn’t invite Katie. You see, Katie was a bit strange. And not very pretty. Well at least Isis thought so. And she didn’t like the way she did her hair. And her shoes weren’t very nice. And Isis couldn’t possibly invite a girl who wasn’t pretty to her party. So she didn’t. But Katie has a secret that Isis didn’t know. Only very few people, like Wendy and Alisa, know Katie’s secret – but I’ll let you in on it. Katie is a witch, and can do all sorts of magic spells. She tries not to do them too often – or else everyone will soon know her secret. One day, Isis came to school with invitations for all the girls in her class to come to her party. All except for Katie. And Katie felt a bit sad about that. Because although she wasn’t best friends with Isis, she felt, well, rather left out. It made her feel like there might be something wrong with her. The next day, some of the girls were talking about Isis’s party. Samantha said: “I’m not sure what colour dress to wear, but I think I might go in pink.” “Yes,” said Trudy. “Pink suits you so well.” When Katie walked past, Julia said: “I expect that Isis didn’t invite Katie because she’s got a nose like a pug.” Katie heard this and she spun round: “I do not have a nose like a pug!”she said. “And even if I did, Isis has a nose that points upward – and that means that she’s a snooty-nose.” But the girls just laughed at Katie and they all chanted: Later, when Isis heard that Katie had called her a snooty nose, she was cross. In fact, she was really, really, really cross, because she knew that there was a little grain of truth in it – and a true insult hurts more than an untruth. Her nose did point up just a bit – but even so, she still thought it was the prettiest nose in the class. When she saw Katie she said: “How dare you call me a snooty-nose? You just said that because I didn’t invite you to my party. Well I’ll tell you Katie why I didn’t invite you. I didn’t want you there because my mum says that your mum is weird and that your whole family is ugly, especially you!” “I’m glad that you didn’t invite me,” said Katie. “Because I wouldn’t have come anyway. And besides, your nose does point up and that’s because you and your whole family are snooty. Your family is so snooty that they named you after an Egyptian Goddess – and if you look at a picture of the real Isis you’ll see that she had a pointy-up nose too.” “Isis is a very pretty name,” said Isis. “At least it’s not a common name like Katie. You’re more common than a tin of baked beans. In fact, there’s nothing pretty or clever about you. You’re not even funny. You’re just dumpy, flat-nosed Katie, with stringy black hair, bandy legs, and wonky teeth. And besides, nobody likes you because there is nothing special about you at all. Not one thing – apart from the fact that you smell.” And Katie was so cross that she started to mutter a magic spell to turn Isis into a snail – but then she thought that she had better not, in case she got into trouble. So that night, before she went to sleep, Katie sat up in bed reading her magic books. She was looking for a very special spell to get her revenge on Isis. And at last, just before her mum came in to kiss her goodnight, she found the perfect spell for the job. In the morning, Isis got out of bed and went to look at her face in the mirror. She was just a bit worried because she thought she might be getting a spot on her nose – and that wouldn’t do at all. In fact, she had decided that if her nose got a pimple, she wouldn’t go to school until it went away. But when she looked in the mirror, what she saw was not at all what she had been fearing. It was much, much worse. It was her nose. Or rather, it wasn’t her nose. Because it wasn’t there any more. Isis had no nose. Her face was just flat where her pretty little snooter should have been. She let out a scream! And then another scream. And then another. Her mother came rushing up the stairs. And then she screamed too. When they both stopped screaming, they looked under the pillow and in the folds of the duvet. Then they looked under the bed and in the cupboard. But nowhere, could they find her nose. Then her mum wrapped a scarf around her daughter’s face and took her to the doctor’s. The doctor said not to worry. Isis wouldn’t die because she could still breathe through her mouth. But he said it was strange, very strange indeed. He had never seen anything like it. He gave her a bottle of pink medicine just in case it might help, but on balance he thought it probably wouldn’t. And then Isis cried. And she cried. And she cried some more. Because she couldn’t possibly go to school without her nose. And she would have to cancel her party. And so long as she was noseless, she wouldn’t be popular. Because nobody would want to know a girl with no nose. In class, the teacher said that Isis had had an accident and wouldn’t be coming to school until she was better. When Katie heard this, she knew that her spell had worked, but of course she didn’t tell a soul about it. After school, Julia and Annabelle went round to Isis’s house to see if she was ok. Nobody answered the door, so they went around the back to see if she was playing outside on the lawn. They saw her sitting on a garden chair. And they both saw her face. But of course, what they didn’t see was her nose. After that, the news about Isis losing her nose spread fast around the school. Everybody was talking about it. And then some very strange things started to happen. Really strange things indeed. When the art teacher, Miss Jenkins, opened her desk, she found inside it – a nose. It was a pretty little nose but slightly pointed up at the end – just like Isis’s. She thought it was a joke-nose that somebody had made out of play-dough. And that made her very cross. “It really isn’t very nice at all,” she said. “In fact, who ever did this has an extremely nasty little mind. It’s ever so cruel to make fun of somebody who’s had an accident!” Everyone wondered who had made the joke nose. But in fact nobody had. Because it really was Isis’s nose. And when Miss Jenkins wasn’t looking, the nose climbed out of her desk, hopped onto her chair, and jumped down onto the floor. You see, it had grown two little legs and it could run. Toby spotted it – and he yelled out: “Look Miss, Look! Look! There it goes. The nose is escaping! It’s running away.” But Miss Jenkins didn’t look. She didn’t even believe him. She just went over to Toby and told him that he was a very naughty little boy and that he was in big trouble. In fact, she was going to ring his mother and tell her just what a mean and horrid thing he had done. Nobody else saw the nose escaping – except for Katie – and she kept quiet. She felt a bit sorry for Toby, but not too much, because she knew that very soon more people would see some strange things. And they did. When Samantha opened her locker, she screamed so loud that the whole school heard her – because Isis’s nose had been asleep on top of her fleece, and when she opened the door it sprang up and jumped out of the locker. And when Annabel looked in the mirror, she saw that her face had two noses – her own and Isis’s – and they seemed to be having a conversation with each other. Annabel didn’t even scream – she just fainted. When she came round, Isis’s nose had scarpered – and none of the teachers believed what she told them. They just said that she must have imagined it. And Toby found the runaway nose once again. This time, it was taking a nap in his lunch box. He was so frightened that he would get into even more trouble than before, that he didn’t tell anyone. He just grabbed the nose and let it loose in the playground where it ran off, no doubt to make more trouble elsewhere. At the next staff meeting, Mrs Hepworth, the headmistress, was in one of her flurries. “What on earth are we going to do about all this nose business? The whole school has been traumatized by Isis’s terrible accident. All the children are imagining things. It’s a mass hysteria.” A mass hysteria is when lots of people see the same thing which isn’t really true. Like the Indian rope trick, when a man appears to climb up a rope that isn’t attached to anything. By now Katie had enough revenge. Perhaps too much. And she truly wished that she could send the naughty nose back to Isis’s face. But the trouble was, she couldn’t find out how to reverse the spell. She had found it in a very old book of magic, and some of the pages were missing – including the one with the reverse nose spell on it. A few days later she saw Isis in the supermarket – well she didn’t actually see her face because Isis had wrapped a scarf around it. In fact, she looked like she was going out in a snow blizzard. Isis saw Katie – but she pretended not to. She felt ashamed that her nose had run away. And Katie felt, well, rather sorry for her, and just a bit guilty. So that evening she asked her mum if she knew where the missing pages from the old spell book were. “Oh yes, those. They’re in my desk,” said Mum. “But there’s nothing very useful in them – unless you want to charm a runaway nose back to its owner. I had to learn that spell for the Witch Masters Course at University. The professor said it had only been used once, and that was 150 years ago in the city of St. Petersburg when it was still the capital of Russia.” But Katie said that she liked reading old spells, and besides, you never knew when they might come back into fashion. And that night, she learnt two sets of magic words. Both were very complicated. One for catching the runaway nose. And the other was for sticking it back onto its owner’s face. The nose didn’t want to be caught, but Katie found it living in the school kitchen where it could sample plenty of nice food smells. She said the magic words that she had learned off by heart, and it hopped into her hand. She wrapped it in a handkerchief. And then she went round to Isis’s house. Isis’s mum answered the door and said that her daughter didn’t want to see anyone. But Katie told her that she had important news about the whereabouts of the runaway nose, and eventually she was allowed up to Isis’s room. Isis hadn’t seen any friends for three whole weeks. In fact, she was actually quite pleased that someone had come to see her – although she hid her face behind a pillow so that her visitor couldn’t see her face. “It’s very nice of you to come round,” she said from behind the pillow. “None of my friends want to see me anymore – not even my nose wants to see me. It ran off, you know. At least you are no longer the most unpopular girl in school. I am, and I suppose that serves me right for being so mean to you.” And Katie said: “You were mean to me. But I was meaner to you. You see, it was me who told your nose to run away.” “You?” said Isis. “Yes me. But now I’ve brought it back to you.” And Katie took out a handkerchief, unfolded it, and put the nose on the bed.” Isis had to see this, so she stuck her head out from behind the pillow and said: “Oh gosh, golly golly gosh. It is my nose. Oh pretty little nose, why did you run away from me?” And the nose said: “I ran away from you because you were boring.” “Me, boring? But, but … I was the prettiest, most popular girl in school.” “And didn’t you go on about it? In fact, you went on, and on, and on, about how wonderful you were. So I got bored and ran away.” “Oh! It was was ever so mean of you to run away,” said Isis. “I had to cancel my own birthday party.” But Katie was getting fed up with all the talk. She put her foot down and said: “It’s high time for you two to get back together. And no arguments.” And with that she picked up the nose, said a magic spell, and she stuck it back on Isis’s face. Katie looked at Isis and checked that she had put her nose back on straight. She had. Then she noticed that while it had been away, the nose had grown a bright red pimple because it hadn’t been eating all its vitamins. Isis looked in the mirror and saw the pimple. But do you know what? She didn’t even care because she was so glad to have her nose back. The next day she went to school. Everyone crowded round to welcome her back. And nobody minded that she had a pimple on her nose. In fact, Samantha said that nobody would have minded even if she had no nose at all – because there was more to life than to have a perfect face. In fact, being true friends was much more important than how anyone looked. And Isis said: “I want you all to come to my party next week. Especially Katie because now she’s my best friend.” Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2008. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn20.txt b/text/sn20.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..5bd5b03facd0eaf7836e9a179c8ed6ed1ae82308 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn20.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +A few summers ago, when Bertie was still a human prince and lived in the palace, he was just a little bit bored because the only thing his father, the king, would talk about was his annual garden party. The theme that year was to be, “Sweet Smells,” and all the sweetest smelling people in the kingdom were to be invited. Most of them were girls, as it turned out. There were to be sweet smelling flowers with sweet smelling blossom, and the most fragrant honey, and different types of aromatic teas - and the gardeners were busy clearing all the green slime out of the pond and pouring perfume and aftershave into it to make it smell nicer. Colin the Carp wasn’t at all pleased, but Bertie didn’t know him then - and Tim the Tadpole wasn’t even born. In those days, Bertie had yet to set eyes upon the lovely Princess Beatrice. She and her wicked stepmother still lived in a far away place called Wales. I think I told you about that once before. Well if truth be told, there was a bit of a stinky whiff wafting around the castle where Beatrice lived with her stepmother. It was suffering from blocked drains, you see, and that summer they were very blocked indeed. The newspapers reported that the lovely Princess Beatrice was going around with a clothes peg on her nose. At first, when Bertie’s father read about this, he almost laughed his head off. "I was planning to invite the lovely Princess Beatrice to my garden party," he said, “but I don’t think I had better risk it, because she probably pongs to high heaven.” When the wicked queen heard about this insult, she was furious. "So that stupid old king thinks my daughter smells does he? Well before the summer’s out we’ll see who’s the biggest stinker of them all." So the wicked queen commanded all the top scientists, wizards, and druids in Wales to concoct the stinkiest, foulest, most pungent pong ever created, and then, to load the pong into a rocket. When this was done, she gave a note to her ambassador to deliver to Bertie’s father. It read: "Invite or stink!" When he received this note, Bertie’s farther flew into a frightful rage: He stood up from his throne and railed at the ambassador, “Kindly inform that malign, maledictive, malodorous, queen of yours that we don’t give into blackmail here, or even to \'stink mail.\' She and her smelly daughter aren’t invited to my party, so there!" But at night he couldn’t sleep for worrying about the stink bomb landing on his summer garden party, and all his fragrant guests being covered in foul-smelling sewage, or whatever the wicked queen meant to drop on them.', "That’s why Prince Bertie, who was hanging around the palace looking just a bit bored, was summoned. The king sent him to Wales on a top secret mission to 'Stop the Stink.' Bertie had to choose a disguise, and he decided upon a travelling jester.", 'Bertie arrived at the wicked queen’s castle, and presented himself as an entertainer, who wondered the highways and byways on his skateboard, telling funny stories and performing clever tricks. That evening after dinner, he was invited before the royal family. Bertie did a little dance and shook his floppy hat with a bell on the end. Then he made a bow, and waited for a ripple of warm, welcoming applause. The king yawned. Bertie saw this, and his mind went blank - even more so than usual - and he couldn’t remember a single joke, even though he was usually brimming with them. After about half a minute’s silence, the wicked queen said, “He’s useless. Dump him in the dungeon.” "But… but…” protested Bertie, "I’m just having a bad day. Usually I’m the funniest jester alive." But the guards were already sweeping him towards the door. “Hey, have you heard this one?” Called out Bertie. “What sort of dog doesn’t smell? One without a nose. Ha Ha! Can you say Iced Ink very fast several time over?" The lovely Princess Beatrice said, “Oh please don’t take him away. He’s rather sweet, even if his jokes aren’t really that funny.” Meanwhile, the king was muttering to himself, “Iced ink Iced ink, I stink.” “Ha ha ha, You said you stink!” Called back Bertie. “Take him away,” said the queen in a very bored voice. “I believe cell number five is free. The last unfunny idiot who was in that one departed yesterday... May his soul rest in peace. Ha!” The guards took Bertie to the prison in the cellars of the castle, opened up a hatch in the floor, and pushed him in. Down down down, he fell. “Oh no, this place is very dark and there’s a funny smell. I wonder how far I’m going to fall?” Thought Bertie - and then Boing! He landed on an old bed, and the legs immediately collapsed. But at least he wasn’t too hurt. All he could see was a little shaft of moonlight from a window near the top of the cell. Around midnight, a guard opened the hatch and called out, “dinner.” He dropped down a cold, half eaten burger and a carton of orange drink. “Enjoy your Big Value Meal Deal,” called out the guard. “Sorry I ate half your burger and all of your apple pie.” “Oh dear,” said Bertie. "I should have told them the joke about the man who went to the doctor and said he felt like a parrot… That one always makes everybody laugh. Now I’m going stay in this dungeon until I rot and die. Oh I wish I had never become a secret agent. It’s not nearly as much fun as it sounds." Towards morning, when it was just getting light again outside, he felt something tickling his nose. “Is that a mouse?” He thought, and then he heard a sweet little voice whispering, “Jester, oh Jester, Please wake up.” “A mouse that talks?” Thought Bertie. But then he realised that the voice was coming from up above. He rubbed his eyes, and saw that it wasn’t a mouse that was tickling his nose, but a silk rope dangling from the hatch door. “Quick. Climb up,” whispered the voice, which he now recognised as belonging to the lovely Princess Beatrice. Quick as he could, Bertie shinned up the silk rope and out through the hatch. Beatrice quickly untied the other end at the window bars, and they ran out before the guard came back from the changing room. Beatrice led Bertie out of the castle and onto the dewy grass of the king’s daffodil garden. Bertie looked gratefully at the lovely Princess Beatrice and said, “Now I know that the you are the bravest and cleverest princess in the entire world, as well as the loveliest.” “Well don’t tell anyone or I’ll be in super big trouble,” said Beatrice. Bertie promised not to tell a soul. She led him down the path to a secret gate in the wall, but as Bertie was about to go through it, he remembered that he had come to Wales on a mission. He wondered if he could let Beatrice into his secret. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and said, “Now jester, you’d better be off before we both get caught.” “I don’t mean to shock you,” said Bertie, “but I’m not a jester - not really.” “Really? I’d never have guessed,” said Beatrice sarcastically. “Your jokes were so side-splittingly hilarious.” Bertie was about to tell her the truth - that in fact he was a secret agent, and that he had come to stop her wicked stepmother firing a rocket full of foul-smelling sewage onto his father’s summer garden party. But at that moment they heard a terrible voice screech out, “There they are! Seize them!” And they were surrounded by snarling dogs. The wicked queen, still in her dressing gown, said, “Well well well, Romeo and Juliet.” Two whole days went past. Bertie sat in darkness at the bottom of the dungeon. He knew that it was the date of his father’s garden party, that he had failed miserably in his mission, that all the sweetest smelling people in his home kingdom would be covered in foul smelling sewage, and that he would finish his days, forgotten by all (even the lovely Beatrice), in that terrible dark prison cell. He felt, well, quite a bit down about that. But when the time came, the wicked queen could not resist sending for Bertie so that he could witness her rocket take off on its way to way to deliver its terrible stink to its target. The soldiers led Bertie into the garden. His wrists were handcuffed behind his back. Every exit was guarded. The rocket stood on the launch pad along side the tallest tower of the castle, ready for lift off. The lovely Beatrice was sitting next to the king, on a golden throne that had been set up in the orchard. She was stroking her pet bunny rabbit and sobbing into her handkerchief. The king was reading the gardening column in his newspaper. The wicked queen was wearing a yellow safety helmet and standing on top of a temporary platform. The guards brought the prisoner up to stand beside her. “My dear jester, or should I call you Prince Bertie?” Snarled the Queen. “How lovely to see you. I thought you might like to laugh along with me at this little joke I’m about to play on your father.” “Ha Ha,” said Bertie - but he didn’t mean it. At the same time he was wriggling with his hands behind his back to see if he could slip out of the handcuffs. Soon after the queen began to count down backwards. “10, 9, 8...” Her terrible voice echoed around the walls of the castle. Even the king looked up from his newspaper. Bertie kept on wriggling his hands. He hadn’t eaten for two whole days, and he felt like he was all skin and bones. Surely he was thin enough to escape? “7, 6, 5, 4… ” Bertie’s eye was on a red button on the queen’s control Panel. It said, “Abort.” If only he could press that button at the right moment, the rocket would stop its mission. “3, 2, 1... Blast off!” Screeched the queen. Slowly the rocket started to rise from the launch pad, pushed upwards by a great ball of flames. Everyone in the palace applauded, except for Bertie, whose hands were cuffed, and Beatrice, who was still stroking her bunny rabbit. The queen started to shout, "Stink! Stink! Stink!" Then all the people joined in shouting, "Stink! Stink! Stink!" And Bertie kept on wriggling his hands. Everyone’s eyes, including those of the queen and all the guards were glued to the sight of the rocket hovering just above the castle, before setting on its way to deliver its terrible smells to Bertie’s kingdom. Suddenly Bertie felt his hand slip out of the cuff. His now free hand shot out and hit the red “Abort” button. It started to flash and beep and the queen shrieked, “Who did that?” She manically pressed the button marked “Start” but it was too late. The rocket stopped in mid air and came crashing down onto the roof of the castle, from where it rolled into the garden below, landing right the middle of the king’s prize daffodils. There was an almighty explosion and the air was filled with sewage flying in all directions. Everyone was covered in it. Bertie started to run. The guards were far too busy holding their noses and saying, “Poo, what a pong!” To notice him jumping into the king’s Rolls Royce and speeding off down the drive. Bertie drove and drove, taking a secret road through the mountains, until he reached home. He was just in time for last part of his father’s garden party, which had been a sweet-smelling success, untroubled by stink bombs. As he walked through the crowds the guests held their noses. “Is that Prince Bertie?” They whispered to one another. “He doesn’t half pong.” “Bertie,” shouted his father when he smelled him. “Go and take a bath, immediately.” “But, but, I saved you from the stink bomb,” said Bertie. “Right this minute,” shouted his father. So Agent Bertie had no choice but to go and take a bath. “The problem with being a secret agent,” he thought, as he soaked among the soap bubbles, “Is that your mission is so secret that nobody knows how jolly brave you were.” But the lovely Princess Beatrice knew how brave he was - and although she and her bunny rabbit were covered in bad smelling stuff, she didn’t mind that much, because at last she had met a prince who had got the better of her wicked stepmother. And that’s the story of Agent Bertie. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn200.txt b/text/sn200.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6a8077f43bc21a59cb7c33be3c917457bd77ff04 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn200.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio is thirsty and hungry. Several people offer him money in the land of the Busy Bees - there is just one catch - he has to work for his bite to eat. Pinocchio, spurred on by the hope of finding his father and of being in time to save him, swam all night long. And what a horrible night it was! It poured rain, it hailed, it thundered, and the lightning was so bright that it turned the night into day. At dawn, he saw, not far away from him, a long stretch of sand. It was an island in the middle of the sea.', "Pinocchio tried his best to get there, but he couldn't. The waves played with him and tossed him about as if he were a twig or a bit of straw. At last, and luckily for him, a tremendous wave tossed him to the very spot where he wanted to be. The blow from the wave was so strong that, as he fell to the ground, his joints cracked and almost broke. But, nothing daunted, he jumped to his feet and cried:", '"Once more I have escaped with my life!" Little by little the sky cleared. The sun came out in full splendor and the sea became as calm as a lake. Then the Marionette took off his clothes and laid them on the sand to dry. He looked over the waters to see whether he might catch sight of a boat with a little man in it. He searched and he searched, but he saw nothing except sea and sky and far away a few sails, so small that they might have been birds. "If only I knew the name of this island!" he said to himself. "If I even knew what kind of people I would find here! But whom shall I ask? There is no one here." The idea of finding himself in so lonesome a spot made him so sad that he was about to cry, but just then he saw a big Fish swimming near-by, with his head far out of the water. Not knowing what to call him, the Marionette said to him: "Hey there, Mr. Fish, may I have a word with you?" "Even two, if you want," answered the fish, who happened to be a very polite Dolphin. "Will you please tell me if, on this island, there are places where one may eat without necessarily being eaten?" "Surely, there are," answered the Dolphin. "In fact you\'ll find one not far from this spot." "And how shall I get there?" "Take that path on your left and follow your nose. You can\'t go wrong." "Tell me another thing. You who travel day and night through the sea, did you not perhaps meet a little boat with my father in it?" "And who is you father?" "He is the best father in the world, even as I am the worst son that can be found." "In the storm of last night," answered the Dolphin, "the little boat must have been swamped." "And my father?" "By this time, he must have been swallowed by the Terrible Shark, which, for the last few days, has been bringing terror to these waters." "Is this Shark very big?" asked Pinocchio, who was beginning to tremble with fright. "Is he big?" replied the Dolphin. "Just to give you an idea of his size, let me tell you that he is larger than a five story building and that he has a mouth so big and so deep, that a whole train and engine could easily get into it." "Mother mine!" cried the Marionette, scared to death; and dressing himself as fast as he could, he turned to the Dolphin and said: "Farewell, Mr. Fish. Pardon the bother, and many thanks for your kindness." This said, he took the path at so swift a gait that he seemed to fly, and at every small sound he heard, he turned in fear to see whether the Terrible Shark, five stories high and with a train in his mouth, was following him. After walking a half hour, he came to a small country called the Land of the Busy Bees. The streets were filled with people running to and fro about their tasks. Everyone worked, everyone had something to do. Even if one were to search with a lantern, not one idle man or one tramp could have been found. "I understand," said Pinocchio at once wearily, "this is no place for me! I was not born for work." But in the meantime, he began to feel hungry, for it was twenty-four hours since he had eaten. What was to be done? There were only two means left to him in order to get a bite to eat. He had either to work or to beg.', "He was ashamed to beg, because his father had always preached to him that begging should be done only by the sick or the old. He had said that the real poor in this world, deserving of our pity and help, were only those who, either through age or sickness, had lost the means of earning their bread with their own hands. All others should work, and if they didn't, and went hungry, so much the worse for them.", 'Just then a man passed by, worn out and wet with perspiration, pulling, with difficulty, two heavy carts filled with coal. Pinocchio looked at him and, judging him by his looks to be a kind man, said to him with eyes downcast in shame: "Will you be so good as to give me a penny, for I am faint with hunger?" "Not only one penny," answered the Coal Man. "I\'ll give you four if you will help me pull these two wagons." "I am surprised!" answered the Marionette, very much offended. "I wish you to know that I never have been a donkey, nor have I ever pulled a wagon." "So much the better for you!" answered the Coal Man. "Then, my boy, if you are really faint with hunger, eat two slices of your pride; and I hope they don\'t give you indigestion." A few minutes after, a Bricklayer passed by, carrying a pail full of plaster on his shoulder. "Good man, will you be kind enough to give a penny to a poor boy who is yawning from hunger?" "Gladly," answered the Bricklayer. "Come with me and carry some plaster, and instead of one penny, I\'ll give you five." "But the plaster is heavy," answered Pinocchio, "and the work too hard for me." "If the work is too hard for you, my boy, enjoy your yawns and may they bring you luck!" In less than a half hour, at least twenty people passed and Pinocchio begged of each one, but they all answered: "Aren\'t you ashamed? Instead of being a beggar in the streets, why don\'t you look for work and earn your own bread?" Finally a little woman went by carrying two water jugs. "Good woman, will you allow me to have a drink from one of your jugs?" asked Pinocchio, who was burning up with thirst. "With pleasure, my boy!" she answered, setting the two jugs on the ground before him. When Pinocchio had had his fill, he grumbled, as he wiped his mouth: "My thirst is gone. If I could only as easily get rid of my hunger!" On hearing these words, the good little woman immediately said: "If you help me to carry these jugs home, I\'ll give you a slice of bread." Pinocchio looked at the jug and said neither yes nor no. "And with the bread, I\'ll give you a nice dish of cauliflower with white sauce on it." Pinocchio gave the jug another look and said neither yes nor no. "And after the cauliflower, some cake and jam." At this last bribery, Pinocchio could no longer resist and said firmly: "Very well. I\'ll take the jug home for you." The jug was very heavy, and the Marionette, not being strong enough to carry it with his hands, had to put it on his head. When they arrived home, the little woman made Pinocchio sit down at a small table and placed before him the bread, the cauliflower, and the cake. Pinocchio did not eat; he devoured. His stomach seemed a bottomless pit. His hunger finally appeased, he raised his head to thank his kind benefactress. But he had not looked at her long when he gave a cry of surprise and sat there with his eyes wide open, his fork in the air, and his mouth filled with bread and cauliflower. "Why all this surprise?" asked the good woman, laughing. "Because--" answered Pinocchio, stammering and stuttering, "because--you look like--you remind me of--yes, yes, the same voice, the same eyes, the same hair--yes, yes, yes, you also have the same azure hair she had--Oh, my little Fairy, my little Fairy! Tell me that it is you! Don\'t make me cry any longer! If you only knew! I have cried so much, I have suffered so!" And Pinocchio threw himself on the floor and clasped the knees of the mysterious little woman. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn201.txt b/text/sn201.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c88efefb0ee1eecd1ce6164bb6c87fe74ef96cbd --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn201.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Good Fairy advises Pinocchio to go to school and to work hard. She promises that if he can be good, he can become a real boy. If Pinocchio cried much longer, the little woman thought he would melt away, so she finally admitted that she was the little Fairy with Azure Hair. "You rascal of a Marionette! How did you know it was I?" she asked, laughing. "My love for you told me who you were." "Do you remember? You left me when I was a little girl and now you find me a grown woman. I am so old, I could almost be your mother!" "I am very glad of that, for then I can call you mother instead of sister. For a long time I have wanted a mother, just like other boys. But how did you grow so quickly?" "That\'s a secret!" "Tell it to me. I also want to grow a little. Look at me! I have never grown higher than a penny\'s worth of cheese." "But you can\'t grow," answered the Fairy. "Why not?" "Because Marionettes never grow. They are born Marionettes, they live Marionettes, and they die Marionettes." "Oh, I\'m tired of always being a Marionette!" cried Pinocchio disgustedly. "It\'s about time for me to grow into a man as everyone else does." "And you will if you deserve it--" "Really? What can I do to deserve it?" "It\'s a very simple matter. Try to act like a well-behaved child." "Don\'t you think I do?" "Far from it! Good boys are obedient, and you, on the contrary--" "And I never obey." "Good boys love study and work, but you--" "And I, on the contrary, am a lazy fellow and a tramp all year round." "Good boys always tell the truth." "And I always tell lies." "Good boys go gladly to school." "And I get sick if I go to school. From now on I\'ll be different." "Do you promise?" "I promise. I want to become a good boy and be a comfort to my father. Where is my poor father now?" "I do not know." "Will I ever be lucky enough to find him and embrace him once more?" "I think so. Indeed, I am sure of it." At this answer, Pinocchio\'s happiness was very great. He grasped the Fairy\'s hands and kissed them so hard that it looked as if he had lost his head. Then lifting his face, he looked at her lovingly and asked: "Tell me, little Mother, it isn\'t true that you are dead, is it?" "It doesn\'t seem so," answered the Fairy, smiling. "If you only knew how I suffered and how I wept when I read \'Here lies--\'" "I know it, and for that I have forgiven you. The depth of your sorrow made me see that you have a kind heart. There is always hope for boys with hearts such as yours, though they may often be very mischievous. This is the reason why I have come so far to look for you. From now on, I\'ll be your own little mother." "Oh! How lovely!" cried Pinocchio, jumping with joy. "You will obey me always and do as I wish?" "Gladly, very gladly, more than gladly!" "Beginning tomorrow," said the Fairy, "you\'ll go to school every day."', "Pinocchio's face fell a little.", '"Then you will choose the trade you like best." Pinocchio became more serious. "What are you mumbling to yourself?" asked the Fairy. "I was just saying," whined the Marionette in a whisper, "that it seems too late for me to go to school now." "No, indeed. Remember it is never too late to learn." "But I don\'t want either trade or profession." "Why?" "Because work wearies me!" "My dear boy," said the Fairy, "people who speak as you do usually end their days either in a prison or in a hospital. A man, remember, whether rich or poor, should do something in this world. No one can find happiness without work. Woe betide the lazy fellow! Laziness is a serious illness and one must cure it immediately; yes, even from early childhood. If not, it will kill you in the end." These words touched Pinocchio\'s heart. He lifted his eyes to his Fairy and said seriously: "I\'ll work; I\'ll study; I\'ll do all you tell me. After all, the life of a Marionette has grown very tiresome to me and I want to become a boy, no matter how hard it is. You promise that, do you not?" "Yes, I promise, and now it is up to you." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn202.txt b/text/sn202.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1ab254220fc02eee2e365e01867087a5deaddc37 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn202.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio goes to school at last. The boys are amazed to see a puppet as a pupil, and try to tease him cruelly. In the morning, bright and early, Pinocchio started for school. Imagine what the boys said when they saw a Marionette enter the classroom! They laughed until they cried. Everyone played tricks on him. One pulled his hat off, another tugged at his coat, a third tried to paint a mustache under his nose. One even attempted to tie strings to his feet and his hands to make him dance. For a while Pinocchio was very calm and quiet. Finally, however, he lost all patience and turning to his tormentors, he said to them threateningly: "Careful, boys, I haven\'t come here to be made fun of. I\'ll respect you and I want you to respect me." "Hurrah for Dr. Know-all! You have spoken like a printed book!" howled the boys, bursting with laughter. One of them, more impudent than the rest, put out his hand to pull the Marionette\'s nose. But he was not quick enough, for Pinocchio stretched his leg under the table and kicked him hard on the shin. "Oh, what hard feet!" cried the boy, rubbing the spot where the Marionette had kicked him. "And what elbows! They are even harder than the feet!" shouted another one, who, because of some other trick, had received a blow in the stomach.', "With that kick and that blow Pinocchio gained everybody's favor. Everyone admired him, danced attendance upon him, petted and caressed him.", 'As the days passed into weeks, even the teacher praised him, for he saw him attentive, hard working, and wide awake, always the first to come in the morning, and the last to leave when school was over.', "Pinocchio's only fault was that he had too many friends. Among these were many well-known rascals, who cared not a jot for study or for success.", 'The teacher warned him each day, and even the good Fairy repeated to him many times: "Take care, Pinocchio! Those bad companions will sooner or later make you lose your love for study. Some day they will lead you astray." "There\'s no such danger," answered the Marionette, shrugging his shoulders and pointing to his forehead as if to say, "I\'m too wise." So it happened that one day, as he was walking to school, he met some boys who ran up to him and said: "Have you heard the news?" "No!" "A Shark as big as a mountain has been seen near the shore." "Really? I wonder if it could be the same one I heard of when my father was drowned?" "We are going to see it. Are you coming?" "No, not I. I must go to school." "What do you care about school? You can go there tomorrow. With a lesson more or less, we are always the same donkeys." "And what will the teacher say?" "Let him talk. He is paid to grumble all day long." "And my mother?" "Mothers don\'t know anything," answered those scamps. "Do you know what I\'ll do?" said Pinocchio. "For certain reasons of mine, I, too, want to see that Shark; but I\'ll go after school. I can see him then as well as now." "Poor simpleton!" cried one of the boys. "Do you think that a fish of that size will stand there waiting for you? He turns and off he goes, and no one will ever be the wiser." "How long does it take from here to the shore?" asked the Marionette. "One hour there and back." "Very well, then. Let\'s see who gets there first!" cried Pinocchio. At the signal, the little troop, with books under their arms, dashed across the fields. Pinocchio led the way, running as if on wings, the others following as fast as they could. Now and again, he looked back and, seeing his followers hot and tired, and with tongues hanging out, he laughed out heartily. Unhappy boy! If he had only known then the dreadful things that were to happen to him on account of his disobedience! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn203.txt b/text/sn203.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..53657c512cea91366c1ee7ab9d0ddd48aaedbd1f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn203.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The boys at school have been teasing Pinocchio for studying so hard. They have lured him away from class to the beach to see a shark. The story of the shark turns out to be a trick to get him away from school. They start a fight with Pinocchio - seven against one. It does not end well. This is one of my favourite chapters, especially when Pinocchio shouts "Cuckoo!" at the boys. Going like the wind, Pinocchio took but a very short time to reach the shore. He glanced all about him, but there was no sign of a Shark. The sea was as smooth as glass. "Hey there, boys! Where\'s that Shark?" he asked, turning to his playmates. "He may have gone for his breakfast," said one of them, laughing. "Or, perhaps, he went to bed for a little nap," said another, laughing also. From the answers and the laughter which followed them, Pinocchio understood that the boys had played a trick on him. "What now?" he said angrily to them. "What\'s the joke?" "Oh, the joke\'s on you!" cried his tormentors, laughing more heartily than ever, and dancing gayly around the Marionette. "And that is--?" "That we have made you stay out of school to come with us. Aren\'t you ashamed of being such a goody-goody, and of studying so hard? You never have a bit of enjoyment." "And what is it to you, if I do study?" "What does the teacher think of us, you mean?" "Why?" "Don\'t you see? If you study and we don\'t, we pay for it. After all, it\'s only fair to look out for ourselves." "What do you want me to do?" "Hate school and books and teachers, as we all do. They are your worst enemies, you know, and they like to make you as unhappy as they can." "And if I go on studying, what will you do to me?" "You\'ll pay for it!" "Really, you amuse me," answered the Marionette, nodding his head. "Hey, Pinocchio," cried the tallest of them all, "that will do. We are tired of hearing you bragging about yourself, you little turkey cock! You may not be afraid of us, but remember we are not afraid of you, either! You are alone, you know, and we are seven." "Like the seven sins," said Pinocchio, still laughing. "Did you hear that? He has insulted us all. He has called us sins." "Pinocchio, apologize for that, or look out!" "Cuck--oo!" said the Marionette, mocking them with his thumb to his nose. "You\'ll be sorry!" "Cuck--oo!" "We\'ll whip you soundly!" "Cuck--oo!" "You\'ll go home with a broken nose!" "Cuck--oo!" "Very well, then! Take that, and keep it for your supper," called out the boldest of his tormentors. And with the words, he gave Pinocchio a terrible blow on the head. Pinocchio answered with another blow, and that was the signal for the beginning of the fray. In a few moments, the fight raged hot and heavy on both sides. Pinocchio, although alone, defended himself bravely. With those two wooden feet of his, he worked so fast that his opponents kept at a respectful distance. Wherever they landed, they left their painful mark and the boys could only run away and howl. Enraged at not being able to fight the Marionette at close quarters, they started to throw all kinds of books at him. Readers, geographies, histories, grammars flew in all directions. But Pinocchio was keen of eye and swift of movement, and the books only passed over his head, landed in the sea, and disappeared. The fish, thinking they might be good to eat, came to the top of the water in great numbers. Some took a nibble, some took a bite, but no sooner had they tasted a page or two, than they spat them out with a wry face, as if to say: "What a horrid taste! Our own food is so much better!" Meanwhile, the battle waxed more and more furious. At the noise, a large Crab crawled slowly out of the water and, with a voice that sounded like a trombone suffering from a cold, he cried out: "Stop fighting, you rascals! These battles between boys rarely end well. Trouble is sure to come to you!" Poor Crab! He might as well have spoken to the wind. Instead of listening to his good advice, Pinocchio turned to him and said as roughly as he knew how: "Keep quiet, ugly Gab! It would be better for you to chew a few cough drops to get rid of that cold you have. Go to bed and sleep! You will feel better in the morning."', "In the meantime, the boys, having used all their books, looked around for new ammunition. Seeing Pinocchio's bundle lying idle near-by, they somehow managed to get hold of it.", "One of the books was a very large volume, an arithmetic text, heavily bound in leather. It was Pinocchio's pride. Among all his books, he liked that one the best.", 'Thinking it would make a fine missile, one of the boys took hold of it and threw it with all his strength at Pinocchio\'s head. But instead of hitting the Marionette, the book struck one of the other boys, who, as pale as a ghost, cried out faintly: "Oh, Mother, help! I\'m dying!" and fell senseless to the ground. At the sight of that pale little corpse, the boys were so frightened that they turned tail and ran. In a few moments, all had disappeared. All except Pinocchio. Although scared to death by the horror of what had been done, he ran to the sea and soaked his handkerchief in the cool water and with it bathed the head of his poor little schoolmate. Sobbing bitterly, he called to him, saying: "Eugene! My poor Eugene! Open your eyes and look at me! Why don\'t you answer? I was not the one who hit you, you know. Believe me, I didn\'t do it. Open your eyes, Eugene? If you keep them shut, I\'ll die, too. Oh, dear me, how shall I ever go home now? How shall I ever look at my little mother again? What will happen to me? Where shall I go? Where shall I hide? Oh, how much better it would have been, a thousand times better, if only I had gone to school! Why did I listen to those boys? They always were a bad influence! And to think that the teacher had told me--and my mother, too!--\'Beware of bad company!\' That\'s what she said. But I\'m stubborn and proud. I listen, but always I do as I wish. And then I pay. I\'ve never had a moment\'s peace since I\'ve been born! Oh, dear! What will become of me? What will become of me?" Pinocchio went on crying and moaning and beating his head. Again and again he called to his little friend, when suddenly he heard heavy steps approaching. He looked up and saw two tall Carabineers near him. "What are you doing stretched out on the ground?" they asked Pinocchio. "I\'m helping this schoolfellow of mine." "Has he fainted?" "I should say so," said one of the Carabineers, bending to look at Eugene. "This boy has been wounded on the temple. Who has hurt him?" "Not I," stammered the Marionette, who had hardly a breath left in his whole body. "If it wasn\'t you, who was it, then?" "Not I," repeated Pinocchio. "And with what was he wounded?" "With this book," and the Marionette picked up the arithmetic text to show it to the officer. "And whose book is this?" "Mine." "Enough." "Not another word! Get up as quickly as you can and come along with us." "But I--" "Come with us!" "But I am innocent." "Come with us!" Before starting out, the officers called out to several fishermen passing by in a boat and said to them: "Take care of this little fellow who has been hurt. Take him home and bind his wounds. Tomorrow we\'ll come after him." They then took hold of Pinocchio and, putting him between them, said to him in a rough voice: "March! And go quickly, or it will be the worse for you!"', "They did not have to repeat their words. The Marionette walked swiftly along the road to the village. But the poor fellow hardly knew what he was about. He thought he had a nightmare. He felt ill. His eyes saw everything double, his legs trembled, his tongue was dry, and, try as he might, he could not utter a single word. Yet, in spite of this numbness of feeling, he suffered keenly at the thought of passing under the windows of his good little Fairy's house. What would she say on seeing him between two Carabineers?", "They had just reached the village, when a sudden gust of wind blew off Pinocchio's cap and made it go sailing far down the street.", '"Would you allow me," the Marionette asked the Carabineers, "to run after my cap?" "Very well, go; but hurry." The Marionette went, picked up his cap--but instead of putting it on his head, he stuck it between his teeth and then raced toward the sea. He went like a bullet out of a gun. The Carabineers, judging that it would be very difficult to catch him, sent a large Mastiff after him, one that had won first prize in all the dog races. Pinocchio ran fast and the Dog ran faster. At so much noise, the people hung out of the windows or gathered in the street, anxious to see the end of the contest. But they were disappointed, for the Dog and Pinocchio raised so much dust on the road that, after a few moments, it was impossible to see them. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn204.txt b/text/sn204.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f4e6b4a73cd364e5edc2fbfb22d2906d955cf68a --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn204.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +When we last left Pinocchio in mid-sentence he was being chased by a Police Dog. In this chapter we see that Pinocchio has a kind heart, and that one good turn deserves another. CHAPTER 28', "During that wild chase, Pinocchio lived through a terrible moment when he almost gave himself up as lost. This was when Alidoro (that was the Mastiff's name), in a frenzy of running, came so near that he was on the very point of reaching him.", 'The Marionette heard, close behind him, the labored breathing of the beast who was fast on his trail, and now and again even felt his hot breath blow over him. Luckily, by this time, he was very near the shore, and the sea was in sight; in fact, only a few short steps away. As soon as he set foot on the beach, Pinocchio gave a leap and fell into the water. Alidoro tried to stop, but as he was running very fast, he couldn\'t, and he, too, landed far out in the sea. Strange though it may seem, the Dog could not swim. He beat the water with his paws to hold himself up, but the harder he tried, the deeper he sank. As he stuck his head out once more, the poor fellow\'s eyes were bulging and he barked out wildly, "I drown! I drown!" "Drown!" answered Pinocchio from afar, happy at his escape. "Help, Pinocchio, dear little Pinocchio! Save me from death!" At those cries of suffering, the Marionette, who after all had a very kind heart, was moved to compassion. He turned toward the poor animal and said to him: "But if I help you, will you promise not to bother me again by running after me?" "I promise! I promise! Only hurry, for if you wait another second, I\'ll be dead and gone!" Pinocchio hesitated still another minute. Then, remembering how his father had often told him that a kind deed is never lost, he swam to Alidoro and, catching hold of his tail, dragged him to the shore. The poor Dog was so weak he could not stand. He had swallowed so much salt water that he was swollen like a balloon. However, Pinocchio, not wishing to trust him too much, threw himself once again into the sea. As he swam away, he called out: "Good-by, Alidoro, good luck and remember me to the family!" "Good-by, little Pinocchio," answered the Dog. "A thousand thanks for having saved me from death. You did me a good turn, and, in this world, what is given is always returned. If the chance comes, I shall be there." Pinocchio went on swimming close to shore. At last he thought he had reached a safe place. Glancing up and down the beach, he saw the opening of a cave out of which rose a spiral of smoke. "In that cave," he said to himself, "there must be a fire. So much the better. I\'ll dry my clothes and warm myself, and then--well--" His mind made up, Pinocchio swam to the rocks, but as he started to climb, he felt something under him lifting him up higher and higher. He tried to escape, but he was too late. To his great surprise, he found himself in a huge net, amid a crowd of fish of all kinds and sizes, who were fighting and struggling desperately to free themselves. At the same time, he saw a Fisherman come out of the cave, a Fisherman so ugly that Pinocchio thought he was a sea monster. In place of hair, his head was covered by a thick bush of green grass. Green was the skin of his body, green were his eyes, green was the long, long beard that reached down to his feet. He looked like a giant lizard with legs and arms. When the Fisherman pulled the net out of the sea, he cried out joyfully: "Blessed Providence! Once more I\'ll have a fine meal of fish!" "Thank Heaven, I\'m not a fish!" said Pinocchio to himself, trying with these words to find a little courage.', "The Fisherman took the net and the fish to the cave, a dark, gloomy, smoky place. In the middle of it, a pan full of oil sizzled over a smoky fire, sending out a repelling odor of tallow that took away one's breath.", '"Now, let\'s see what kind of fish we have caught today," said the Green Fisherman. He put a hand as big as a spade into the net and pulled out a handful of mullets. "Fine mullets, these!" he said, after looking at them and smelling them with pleasure. After that, he threw them into a large, empty tub. Many times he repeated this performance. As he pulled each fish out of the net, his mouth watered with the thought of the good dinner coming, and he said: "Fine fish, these bass!" "Very tasty, these whitefish!" "Delicious flounders, these!" "What splendid crabs!" "And these dear little anchovies, with their heads still on!" As you can well imagine, the bass, the flounders, the whitefish, and even the little anchovies all went together into the tub to keep the mullets company. The last to come out of the net was Pinocchio. As soon as the Fisherman pulled him out, his green eyes opened wide with surprise, and he cried out in fear: "What kind of fish is this? I don\'t remember ever eating anything like it." He looked at him closely and after turning him over and over, he said at last: "I understand. He must be a crab!" Pinocchio, mortified at being taken for a crab, said resentfully: "What nonsense! A crab indeed! I am no such thing. Beware how you deal with me! I am a Marionette, I want you to know." "A Marionette?" asked the Fisherman. "I must admit that a Marionette fish is, for me, an entirely new kind of fish. So much the better. I\'ll eat you with greater relish." "Eat me? But can\'t you understand that I\'m not a fish? Can\'t you hear that I speak and think as you do?" "It\'s true," answered the Fisherman; "but since I see that you are a fish, well able to talk and think as I do, I\'ll treat you with all due respect." "And that is--" "That, as a sign of my particular esteem, I\'ll leave to you the choice of the manner in which you are to be cooked. Do you wish to be fried in a pan, or do you prefer to be cooked with tomato sauce?" "To tell you the truth," answered Pinocchio, "if I must choose, I should much rather go free so I may return home!" "Are you fooling? Do you think that I want to lose the opportunity to taste such a rare fish? A Marionette fish does not come very often to these seas. Leave it to me. I\'ll fry you in the pan with the others. I know you\'ll like it. It\'s always a comfort to find oneself in good company." The unlucky Marionette, hearing this, began to cry and wail and beg. With tears streaming down his cheeks, he said: "How much better it would have been for me to go to school! I did listen to my playmates and now I am paying for it! Oh! Oh! Oh!" And as he struggled and squirmed like an eel to escape from him, the Green Fisherman took a stout cord and tied him hand and foot, and threw him into the bottom of the tub with the others.', "Then he pulled a wooden bowl full of flour out of a cupboard and started to roll the fish into it, one by one. When they were white with it, he threw them into the pan. The first to dance in the hot oil were the mullets, the bass followed, then the whitefish, the flounders, and the anchovies. Pinocchio's turn came last. Seeing himself so near to death (and such a horrible death!) he began to tremble so with fright that he had no voice left with which to beg for his life.", 'The poor boy beseeched only with his eyes. But the Green Fisherman, not even noticing that it was he, turned him over and over in the flour until he looked like a Marionette made of chalk. Then he took him by the head and . . . \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn205.txt b/text/sn205.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..844cc7a1458c37ff38ee0204c492665ba3d86185 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn205.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +We last left Pinocchio about to be fried and eaten by the green fisherman. We don't want to give too much away, but there are a few more chapters to go, so it is safe to assume he gets away ! He returns to the fairy's house where he knocks on the door. A snail answers and takes quite a while to come down and open the door. ", 'CHAPTER 29 Mindful of what the Fisherman had said, Pinocchio knew that all hope of being saved had gone. He closed his eyes and waited for the final moment. Suddenly, a large Dog, attracted by the odor of the boiling oil, came running into the cave. "Get out!" cried the Fisherman threateningly and still holding onto the Marionette, who was all covered with flour. But the poor Dog was very hungry, and whining and wagging his tail, he tried to say: "Give me a bite of the fish and I\'ll go in peace." "Get out, I say!" repeated the Fisherman. And he drew back his foot to give the Dog a kick. Then the Dog, who, being really hungry, would take no refusal, turned in a rage toward the Fisherman and bared his terrible fangs. And at that moment, a pitiful little voice was heard saying: "Save me, Alidoro; if you don\'t, I fry!"', "The Dog immediately recognized Pinocchio's voice. Great was his surprise to find that the voice came from the little flour-covered bundle that the Fisherman held in his hand.", 'Then what did he do? With one great leap, he grasped that bundle in his mouth and, holding it lightly between his teeth, ran through the door and disappeared like a flash! The Fisherman, angry at seeing his meal snatched from under his nose, ran after the Dog, but a bad fit of coughing made him stop and turn back. Meanwhile, Alidoro, as soon as he had found the road which led to the village, stopped and dropped Pinocchio softly to the ground. "How much I do thank you!" said the Marionette. "It is not necessary," answered the Dog. "You saved me once, and what is given is always returned. We are in this world to help one another." "But how did you get in that cave?" "I was lying here on the sand more dead than alive, when an appetizing odor of fried fish came to me. That odor tickled my hunger and I followed it. Oh, if I had come a moment later!" "Don\'t speak about it," wailed Pinocchio, still trembling with fright. "Don\'t say a word. If you had come a moment later, I would be fried, eaten, and digested by this time. Brrrrrr! I shiver at the mere thought of it." Alidoro laughingly held out his paw to the Marionette, who shook it heartily, feeling that now he and the Dog were good friends. Then they bid each other good-by and the Dog went home. Pinocchio, left alone, walked toward a little hut near by, where an old man sat at the door sunning himself, and asked: "Tell me, good man, have you heard anything of a poor boy with a wounded head, whose name was Eugene?" "The boy was brought to this hut and now--" "Now he is dead?" Pinocchio interrupted sorrowfully. "No, he is now alive and he has already returned home." "Really? Really?" cried the Marionette, jumping around with joy. "Then the wound was not serious?" "But it might have been--and even mortal," answered the old man, "for a heavy book was thrown at his head." "And who threw it?" "A schoolmate of his, a certain Pinocchio." "And who is this Pinocchio?" asked the Marionette, feigning ignorance. "They say he is a mischief-maker, a tramp, a street urchin--" "Calumnies! All calumnies!" "Do you know this Pinocchio?" "By sight!" answered the Marionette. "And what do you think of him?" asked the old man. "I think he\'s a very good boy, fond of study, obedient, kind to his Father, and to his whole family--" As he was telling all these enormous lies about himself, Pinocchio touched his nose and found it twice as long as it should be. Scared out of his wits, he cried out: "Don\'t listen to me, good man! All the wonderful things I have said are not true at all. I know Pinocchio well and he is indeed a very wicked fellow, lazy and disobedient, who instead of going to school, runs away with his playmates to have a good time." At this speech, his nose returned to its natural size. "Why are you so pale?" the old man asked suddenly. "Let me tell you. Without knowing it, I rubbed myself against a newly painted wall," he lied, ashamed to say that he had been made ready for the frying pan. "What have you done with your coat and your hat and your breeches?" "I met thieves and they robbed me. Tell me, my good man, have you not, perhaps, a little suit to give me, so that I may go home?" "My boy, as for clothes, I have only a bag in which I keep hops. If you want it, take it. There it is." Pinocchio did not wait for him to repeat his words. He took the bag, which happened to be empty, and after cutting a big hole at the top and two at the sides, he slipped into it as if it were a shirt. Lightly clad as he was, he started out toward the village. Along the way he felt very uneasy. In fact he was so unhappy that he went along taking two steps forward and one back, and as he went he said to himself: "How shall I ever face my good little Fairy? What will she say when she sees me? Will she forgive this last trick of mine? I am sure she won\'t. Oh, no, she won\'t. And I deserve it, as usual! For I am a rascal, fine on promises which I never keep!" He came to the village late at night. It was so dark he could see nothing and it was raining pitchforks.', "Pinocchio went straight to the Fairy's house, firmly resolved to knock at the door.", 'When he found himself there, he lost courage and ran back a few steps. A second time he came to the door and again he ran back. A third time he repeated his performance. The fourth time, before he had time to lose his courage, he grasped the knocker and made a faint sound with it. He waited and waited and waited. Finally, after a full half hour, a top-floor window (the house had four stories) opened and Pinocchio saw a large Snail look out. A tiny light glowed on top of her head. "Who knocks at this late hour?" she called. "Is the Fairy home?" asked the Marionette. "The Fairy is asleep and does not wish to be disturbed. Who are you?" "It is I." "Who\'s I?" "Pinocchio." "Who is Pinocchio?" "The Marionette; the one who lives in the Fairy\'s house." "Oh, I understand," said the Snail. "Wait for me there. I\'ll come down to open the door for you." "Hurry, I beg of you, for I am dying of cold." "My boy, I am a snail and snails are never in a hurry." An hour passed, two hours; and the door was still closed. Pinocchio, who was trembling with fear and shivering from the cold rain on his back, knocked a second time, this time louder than before. At that second knock, a window on the third floor opened and the same Snail looked out. "Dear little Snail," cried Pinocchio from the street. "I have been waiting two hours for you! And two hours on a dreadful night like this are as long as two years. Hurry, please!" "My boy," answered the Snail in a calm, peaceful voice, "my dear boy, I am a snail and snails are never in a hurry." And the window closed.', "A few minutes later midnight struck; then one o'clock--two o'clock. And the door still remained closed!", 'Then Pinocchio, losing all patience, grabbed the knocker with both hands, fully determined to awaken the whole house and street with it. As soon as he touched the knocker, however, it became an eel and wiggled away into the darkness. "Really?" cried Pinocchio, blind with rage. "If the knocker is gone, I can still use my feet." He stepped back and gave the door a most solemn kick. He kicked so hard that his foot went straight through the door and his leg followed almost to the knee. No matter how he pulled and tugged, he could not pull it out. There he stayed as if nailed to the door. Poor Pinocchio! The rest of the night he had to spend with one foot through the door and the other one in the air. As dawn was breaking, the door finally opened. That brave little animal, the Snail, had taken exactly nine hours to go from the fourth floor to the street. How she must have raced! "What are you doing with your foot through the door?" she asked the Marionette, laughing. "It was a misfortune. Won\'t you try, pretty little Snail, to free me from this terrible torture?" "My boy, we need a carpenter here and I have never been one." "Ask the Fairy to help me!" "The Fairy is asleep and does not want to be disturbed." "But what do you want me to do, nailed to the door like this?" "Enjoy yourself counting the ants which are passing by." "Bring me something to eat, at least, for I am faint with hunger." "Immediately!" In fact, after three hours and a half, Pinocchio saw her return with a silver tray on her head. On the tray there was bread, roast chicken, fruit. "Here is the breakfast the Fairy sends to you," said the Snail. At the sight of all these good things, the Marionette felt much better. What was his disgust, however, when on tasting the food, he found the bread to be made of chalk, the chicken of cardboard, and the brilliant fruit of colored alabaster! He wanted to cry, he wanted to give himself up to despair, he wanted to throw away the tray and all that was on it. Instead, either from pain or weakness, he fell to the floor in a dead faint. When he regained his senses, he found himself stretched out on a sofa and the Fairy was seated near him. "This time also I forgive you," said the Fairy to him. "But be careful not to get into mischief again." Pinocchio promised to study and to behave himself. And he kept his word for the remainder of the year. At the end of it, he passed first in all his examinations, and his report was so good that the Fairy said to him happily: "Tomorrow your wish will come true." "And what is it?" "Tomorrow you will cease to be a Marionette and will become a real boy." Pinocchio was beside himself with joy. All his friends and schoolmates must be invited to celebrate the great event! The Fairy promised to prepare two hundred cups of coffee-and-milk and four hundred slices of toast buttered on both sides. The day promised to be a very gay and happy one, but--', "Unluckily, in a Marionette's life there's always a BUT which is apt to spoil everything. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn206.txt b/text/sn206.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..636d743333ac5e7c21b9a0300ca767a68869a1d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn206.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio is on the verge of happiness. The Good Fairy has promised that he will become a boy on the following day. He is throwing a party to celebrate and is inviting all his friends. Toast will be buttered on both sides. But his best friend, Lamp-Wick, has a new temptation for him. He tries ever so hard to resist: Can he? Hint: there are six more chapters after this one... perhaps that is a hint that the story is not quite at an end yet. ', "Coming at last out of the surprise into which the Fairy's words had thrown him, Pinocchio asked for permission to give out the invitations.", '"Indeed, you may invite your friends to tomorrow\'s party. Only remember to return home before dark. Do you understand?" "I\'ll be back in one hour without fail," answered the Marionette. "Take care, Pinocchio! Boys give promises very easily, but they as easily forget them." "But I am not like those others. When I give my word I keep it." "We shall see. In case you do disobey, you will be the one to suffer, not anyone else." "Why?" "Because boys who do not listen to their elders always come to grief." "I certainly have," said Pinocchio, "but from now on, I obey." "We shall see if you are telling the truth." Without adding another word, the Marionette bade the good Fairy good-by, and singing and dancing, he left the house. In a little more than an hour, all his friends were invited. Some accepted quickly and gladly. Others had to be coaxed, but when they heard that the toast was to be buttered on both sides, they all ended by accepting the invitation with the words, "We\'ll come to please you."', "Now it must be known that, among all his friends, Pinocchio had one whom he loved most of all. The boy's real name was Romeo, but everyone called him Lamp-Wick, for he was long and thin and had a woebegone look about him.", 'Lamp-Wick was the laziest boy in the school and the biggest mischief-maker, but Pinocchio loved him dearly.', "That day, he went straight to his friend's house to invite him to the party, but Lamp-Wick was not at home. He went a second time, and again a third, but still without success.", "Where could he be? Pinocchio searched here and there and everywhere, and finally discovered him hiding near a farmer's wagon.", '"What are you doing there?" asked Pinocchio, running up to him. "I am waiting for midnight to strike to go--" "Where?" "Far, far away!" "And I have gone to your house three times to look for you!" "What did you want from me?" "Haven\'t you heard the news? Don\'t you know what good luck is mine?" "What is it?" "Tomorrow I end my days as a Marionette and become a boy, like you and all my other friends." "May it bring you luck!" "Shall I see you at my party tomorrow?" "But I\'m telling you that I go tonight." "At what time?" "At midnight." "And where are you going?" "To a real country--the best in the world--a wonderful place!" "What is it called?" "It is called the Land of Toys. Why don\'t you come, too?" "I? Oh, no!" "You are making a big mistake, Pinocchio. Believe me, if you don\'t come, you\'ll be sorry. Where can you find a place that will agree better with you and me? No schools, no teachers, no books! In that blessed place there is no such thing as study. Here, it is only on Saturdays that we have no school. In the Land of Toys, every day, except Sunday, is a Saturday. Vacation begins on the first of January and ends on the last day of December. That is the place for me! All countries should be like it! How happy we should all be!" "But how does one spend the day in the Land of Toys?" "Days are spent in play and enjoyment from morn till night. At night one goes to bed, and next morning, the good times begin all over again. What do you think of it?" "H\'m--!" said Pinocchio, nodding his wooden head, as if to say, "It\'s the kind of life which would agree with me perfectly." "Do you want to go with me, then? Yes or no? You must make up your mind." "No, no, and again no! I have promised my kind Fairy to become a good boy, and I want to keep my word. Just see: The sun is setting and I must leave you and run. Good-by and good luck to you!" "Where are you going in such a hurry?" "Home. My good Fairy wants me to return home before night." "Wait two minutes more." "It\'s too late!" "Only two minutes." "And if the Fairy scolds me?" "Let her scold. After she gets tired, she will stop," said Lamp-Wick. "Are you going alone or with others?" "Alone? There will be more than a hundred of us!" "Will you walk?" "At midnight the wagon passes here that is to take us within the boundaries of that marvelous country." "How I wish midnight would strike!" "Why?" "To see you all set out together." "Stay here a while longer and you will see us!" "No, no. I want to return home." "Wait two more minutes." "I have waited too long as it is. The Fairy will be worried." "Poor Fairy! Is she afraid the bats will eat you up?" "Listen, Lamp-Wick," said the Marionette, "are you really sure that there are no schools in the Land of Toys?" "Not even the shadow of one." "Not even one teacher?" "Not one." "And one does not have to study?" "Never, never, never!" "What a great land!" said Pinocchio, feeling his mouth water. "What a beautiful land! I have never been there, but I can well imagine it." "Why don\'t you come, too?" "It is useless for you to tempt me! I told you I promised my good Fairy to behave myself, and I am going to keep my word." "Good-by, then, and remember me to the grammar schools, to the high schools, and even to the colleges if you meet them on the way." "Good-by, Lamp-Wick. Have a pleasant trip, enjoy yourself, and remember your friends once in a while." With these words, the Marionette started on his way home. Turning once more to his friend, he asked him: "But are you sure that, in that country, each week is composed of six Saturdays and one Sunday?" "Very sure!" "And that vacation begins on the first of January and ends on the thirty-first of December?" "Very, very sure!" "What a great country!" repeated Pinocchio, puzzled as to what to do. Then, in sudden determination, he said hurriedly: "Good-by for the last time, and good luck." "Good-by." "How soon will you go?" "Within two hours." "What a pity! If it were only one hour, I might wait for you." "And the Fairy?" "By this time I\'m late, and one hour more or less makes very little difference." "Poor Pinocchio! And if the Fairy scolds you?" "Oh, I\'ll let her scold. After she gets tired, she will stop." In the meantime, the night became darker and darker. All at once in the distance a small light flickered. A queer sound could be heard, soft as a little bell, and faint and muffled like the buzz of a far-away mosquito. "There it is!" cried Lamp-Wick, jumping to his feet. "What?" whispered Pinocchio. "The wagon which is coming to get me. For the last time, are you coming or not?" "But is it really true that in that country boys never have to study?" "Never, never, never!" "What a wonderful, beautiful, marvelous country! Oh--h--h!!" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn207.txt b/text/sn207.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9bedcb22cb7a27e3323627a802c7f6b078fbd1e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn207.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio travels with Lamp-Wick to the Land of Toys. They are taken there in a wagon pulled by donkeys, one of which weeps. Pinocchio has a feeling of unease about his decision to go to the Promised Land of no work and no school - and listeners might guess that his feeling is entirely justified ! Catch up with earlier chapters CHAPTER 31 Finally the wagon arrived. It made no noise, for its wheels were bound with straw and rags. It was drawn by twelve pair of donkeys, all of the same size, but all of different color. Some were gray, others white, and still others a mixture of brown and black. Here and there were a few with large yellow and blue stripes. The strangest thing of all was that those twenty-four donkeys, instead of being iron-shod like any other beast of burden, had on their feet laced shoes made of leather, just like the ones boys wear. And the driver of the wagon? Imagine to yourselves a little, fat man, much wider than he was long, round and shiny as a ball of butter, with a face beaming like an apple, a little mouth that always smiled, and a voice small and wheedling like that of a cat begging for food. No sooner did any boy see him than he fell in love with him, and nothing satisfied him but to be allowed to ride in his wagon to that lovely place called the Land of Toys. In fact the wagon was so closely packed with boys of all ages that it looked like a box of sardines. They were uncomfortable, they were piled one on top of the other, they could hardly breathe; yet not one word of complaint was heard. The thought that in a few hours they would reach a country where there were no schools, no books, no teachers, made these boys so happy that they felt neither hunger, nor thirst, nor sleep, nor discomfort. No sooner had the wagon stopped than the little fat man turned to Lamp-Wick. With bows and smiles, he asked in a wheedling tone: "Tell me, my fine boy, do you also want to come to my wonderful country?" "Indeed I do." "But I warn you, my little dear, there\'s no more room in the wagon. It is full." "Never mind," answered Lamp-Wick. "If there\'s no room inside, I can sit on the top of the coach." And with one leap, he perched himself there. "What about you, my love?" asked the Little Man, turning politely to Pinocchio. "What are you going to do? Will you come with us, or do you stay here?" "I stay here," answered Pinocchio. "I want to return home, as I prefer to study and to succeed in life." "May that bring you luck!" "Pinocchio!" Lamp-Wick called out. "Listen to me. Come with us and we\'ll always be happy." "No, no, no!" "Come with us and we\'ll always be happy," cried four other voices from the wagon. "Come with us and we\'ll always be happy," shouted the one hundred and more boys in the wagon, all together. "And if I go with you, what will my good Fairy say?" asked the Marionette, who was beginning to waver and weaken in his good resolutions. "Don\'t worry so much. Only think that we are going to a land where we shall be allowed to make all the racket we like from morning till night." Pinocchio did not answer, but sighed deeply once--twice--a third time. Finally, he said: "Make room for me. I want to go, too!" "The seats are all filled," answered the Little Man, "but to show you how much I think of you, take my place as coachman." "And you?" "I\'ll walk." "No, indeed. I could not permit such a thing. I much prefer riding one of these donkeys," cried Pinocchio. No sooner said than done. He approached the first donkey and tried to mount it. But the little animal turned suddenly and gave him such a terrible kick in the stomach that Pinocchio was thrown to the ground and fell with his legs in the air. At this unlooked-for entertainment, the whole company of runaways laughed uproariously. The little fat man did not laugh. He went up to the rebellious animal, and, still smiling, bent over him lovingly and bit off half of his right ear.', "In the meantime, Pinocchio lifted himself up from the ground, and with one leap landed on the donkey's back. The leap was so well taken that all the boys shouted,", '"Hurrah for Pinocchio!" and clapped their hands in hearty applause. Suddenly the little donkey gave a kick with his two hind feet and, at this unexpected move, the poor Marionette found himself once again sprawling right in the middle of the road. Again the boys shouted with laughter. But the Little Man, instead of laughing, became so loving toward the little animal that, with another kiss, he bit off half of his left ear. "You can mount now, my boy," he then said to Pinocchio. "Have no fear. That donkey was worried about something, but I have spoken to him and now he seems quiet and reasonable." Pinocchio mounted and the wagon started on its way. While the donkeys galloped along the stony road, the Marionette fancied he heard a very quiet voice whispering to him: "Poor silly! You have done as you wished. But you are going to be a sorry boy before very long." Pinocchio, greatly frightened, looked about him to see whence the words had come, but he saw no one. The donkeys galloped, the wagon rolled on smoothly, the boys slept (Lamp-Wick snored like a dormouse) and the little, fat driver sang sleepily between his teeth. After a mile or so, Pinocchio again heard the same faint voice whispering: "Remember, little simpleton! Boys who stop studying and turn their backs upon books and schools and teachers in order to give all their time to nonsense and pleasure, sooner or later come to grief. Oh, how well I know this! How well I can prove it to you! A day will come when you will weep bitterly, even as I am weeping now--but it will be too late!" At these whispered words, the Marionette grew more and more frightened. He jumped to the ground, ran up to the donkey on whose back he had been riding, and taking his nose in his hands, looked at him. Think how great was his surprise when he saw that the donkey was weeping--weeping just like a boy! "Hey, Mr. Driver!" cried the Marionette. "Do you know what strange thing is happening here! This donkey weeps." "Let him weep. When he gets married, he will have time to laugh." "Have you perhaps taught him to speak?" "No, he learned to mumble a few words when he lived for three years with a band of trained dogs." "Poor beast!" "Come, come," said the Little Man, "do not lose time over a donkey that can weep. Mount quickly and let us go. The night is cool and the road is long." Pinocchio obeyed without another word. The wagon started again. Toward dawn the next morning they finally reached that much-longed-for country, the Land of Toys.', "This great land was entirely different from any other place in the world. Its population, large though it was, was composed wholly of boys. The oldest were about fourteen years of age, the youngest, eight. In the street, there was such a racket, such shouting, such blowing of trumpets, that it was deafening. Everywhere groups of boys were gathered together. Some played at marbles, at hopscotch, at ball. Others rode on bicycles or on wooden horses. Some played at blindman's buff, others at tag. Here a group played circus, there another sang and recited. A few turned somersaults, others walked on their hands with their feet in the air. Generals in full uniform leading regiments of cardboard soldiers passed by. Laughter, shrieks, howls, catcalls, hand-clapping followed this parade. One boy made a noise like a hen, another like a rooster, and a third imitated a lion in his den. All together they created such a pandemonium that it would have been necessary for you to put cotton in your ears. The squares were filled with small wooden theaters, overflowing with boys from morning till night, and on the walls of the houses, written with charcoal, were words like these: HURRAH FOR THE LAND OF TOYS! DOWN WITH ARITHMETIC! NO MORE SCHOOL!", "As soon as they had set foot in that land, Pinocchio, Lamp-Wick, and all the other boys who had traveled with them started out on a tour of investigation. They wandered everywhere, they looked into every nook and corner, house and theater. They became everybody's friend. Who could be happier than they?", 'What with entertainments and parties, the hours, the days, the weeks passed like lightning. "Oh, what a beautiful life this is!" said Pinocchio each time that, by chance, he met his friend Lamp-Wick. "Was I right or wrong?" answered Lamp-Wick. "And to think you did not want to come! To think that even yesterday the idea came into your head to return home to see your Fairy and to start studying again! If today you are free from pencils and books and school, you owe it to me, to my advice, to my care. Do you admit it? Only true friends count, after all." "It\'s true, Lamp-Wick, it\'s true. If today I am a really happy boy, it is all because of you. And to think that the teacher, when speaking of you, used to say, \'Do not go with that Lamp-Wick! He is a bad companion and some day he will lead you astray.\'" "Poor teacher!" answered the other, nodding his head. "Indeed I know how much he disliked me and how he enjoyed speaking ill of me. But I am of a generous nature, and I gladly forgive him." "Great soul!" said Pinocchio, fondly embracing his friend. Five months passed and the boys continued playing and enjoying themselves from morn till night, without ever seeing a book, or a desk, or a school. But, my children, there came a morning when Pinocchio awoke and found a great surprise awaiting him, a surprise which made him feel very unhappy, as you shall see. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn208.txt b/text/sn208.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a88bb19d319f422ea21e73fa1c9d3c77f89d1a1e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn208.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Something very strange is happening to Pinocchio's ears. Has he got a fever? Whatever it is, the same thing seems to be happening to his friend, Lamp-Wick. Perhaps the Land of Toys is not so perfect after all. ", 'Catch up on earlier chapters here. CHAPTER 32 Everyone, at one time or another, has found some surprise awaiting him. Of the kind which Pinocchio had on that eventful morning of his life, there are but few. What was it? I will tell you, my dear little readers. On awakening, Pinocchio put his hand up to his head and there he found-- Guess! He found that, during the night, his ears had grown at least ten full inches! You must know that the Marionette, even from his birth, had very small ears, so small indeed that to the naked eye they could hardly be seen. Fancy how he felt when he noticed that overnight those two dainty organs had become as long as shoe brushes!', "He went in search of a mirror, but not finding any, he just filled a basin with water and looked at himself. There he saw what he never could have wished to see. His manly figure was adorned and enriched by a beautiful pair of donkey's ears.", 'I leave you to think of the terrible grief, the shame, the despair of the poor Marionette. He began to cry, to scream, to knock his head against the wall, but the more he shrieked, the longer and the more hairy grew his ears. At those piercing shrieks, a Dormouse came into the room, a fat little Dormouse, who lived upstairs. Seeing Pinocchio so grief-stricken, she asked him anxiously: "What is the matter, dear little neighbor?" "I am sick, my little Dormouse, very, very sick--and from an illness which frightens me! Do you understand how to feel the pulse?" "A little." "Feel mine then and tell me if I have a fever." The Dormouse took Pinocchio\'s wrist between her paws and, after a few minutes, looked up at him sorrowfully and said: "My friend, I am sorry, but I must give you some very sad news." "What is it?" "You have a very bad fever." "But what fever is it?" "The donkey fever." "I don\'t know anything about that fever," answered the Marionette, beginning to understand even too well what was happening to him. "Then I will tell you all about it," said the Dormouse. "Know then that, within two or three hours, you will no longer be a Marionette, nor a boy." "What shall I be?" "Within two or three hours you will become a real donkey, just like the ones that pull the fruit carts to market." "Oh, what have I done? What have I done?" cried Pinocchio, grasping his two long ears in his hands and pulling and tugging at them angrily, just as if they belonged to another. "My dear boy," answered the Dormouse to cheer him up a bit, "why worry now? What is done cannot be undone, you know. Fate has decreed that all lazy boys who come to hate books and schools and teachers and spend all their days with toys and games must sooner or later turn into donkeys." "But is it really so?" asked the Marionette, sobbing bitterly. "I am sorry to say it is. And tears now are useless. You should have thought of all this before." "But the fault is not mine. Believe me, little Dormouse, the fault is all Lamp-Wick\'s." "And who is this Lamp-Wick?" "A classmate of mine. I wanted to return home. I wanted to be obedient. I wanted to study and to succeed in school, but Lamp-Wick said to me, \'Why do you want to waste your time studying? Why do you want to go to school? Come with me to the Land of Toys. There we\'ll never study again. There we can enjoy ourselves and be happy from morn till night.\'" "And why did you follow the advice of that false friend?" "Why? Because, my dear little Dormouse, I am a heedless Marionette--heedless and heartless. Oh! If I had only had a bit of heart, I should never have abandoned that good Fairy, who loved me so well and who has been so kind to me! And by this time, I should no longer be a Marionette. I should have become a real boy, like all these friends of mine! Oh, if I meet Lamp-Wick I am going to tell him what I think of him--and more, too!" After this long speech, Pinocchio walked to the door of the room. But when he reached it, remembering his donkey ears, he felt ashamed to show them to the public and turned back. He took a large cotton bag from a shelf, put it on his head, and pulled it far down to his very nose. Thus adorned, he went out. He looked for Lamp-Wick everywhere, along the streets, in the squares, inside the theatres, everywhere; but he was not to be found. He asked everyone whom he met about him, but no one had seen him. In desperation, he returned home and knocked at the door. "Who is it?" asked Lamp-Wick from within. "It is I!" answered the Marionette. "Wait a minute." After a full half hour the door opened. Another surprise awaited Pinocchio! There in the room stood his friend, with a large cotton bag on his head, pulled far down to his very nose. At the sight of that bag, Pinocchio felt slightly happier and thought to himself: "My friend must be suffering from the same sickness that I am! I wonder if he, too, has donkey fever?" But pretending he had seen nothing, he asked with a smile: "How are you, my dear Lamp-Wick?" "Very well. Like a mouse in a Parmesan cheese." "Is that really true?" "Why should I lie to you?" "I beg your pardon, my friend, but why then are you wearing that cotton bag over your ears?" "The doctor has ordered it because one of my knees hurts. And you, dear Marionette, why are you wearing that cotton bag down to your nose?" "The doctor has ordered it because I have bruised my foot." "Oh, my poor Pinocchio!" "Oh, my poor Lamp-Wick!" An embarrassingly long silence followed these words, during which time the two friends looked at each other in a mocking way. Finally the Marionette, in a voice sweet as honey and soft as a flute, said to his companion: "Tell me, Lamp-Wick, dear friend, have you ever suffered from an earache?" "Never! And you?" "Never! Still, since this morning my ear has been torturing me." "So has mine." "Yours, too? And which ear is it?" "Both of them. And yours?" "Both of them, too. I wonder if it could be the same sickness." "I\'m afraid it is." "Will you do me a favor, Lamp-Wick?" "Gladly! With my whole heart." "Will you let me see your ears?" "Why not? But before I show you mine, I want to see yours, dear Pinocchio." "No. You must show yours first." "No, my dear! Yours first, then mine." "Well, then," said the Marionette, "let us make a contract." "Let\'s hear the contract!" "Let us take off our caps together. All right?" "All right." "Ready then!" Pinocchio began to count, "One! Two! Three!" At the word "Three!" the two boys pulled off their caps and threw them high in air. And then a scene took place which is hard to believe, but it is all too true. The Marionette and his friend, Lamp-Wick, when they saw each other both stricken by the same misfortune, instead of feeling sorrowful and ashamed, began to poke fun at each other, and after much nonsense, they ended by bursting out into hearty laughter. They laughed and laughed, and laughed again--laughed till they ached--laughed till they cried. But all of a sudden Lamp-Wick stopped laughing. He tottered and almost fell. Pale as a ghost, he turned to Pinocchio and said: "Help, help, Pinocchio!" "What is the matter?" "Oh, help me! I can no longer stand up." "I can\'t either," cried Pinocchio; and his laughter turned to tears as he stumbled about helplessly. They had hardly finished speaking, when both of them fell on all fours and began running and jumping around the room. As they ran, their arms turned into legs, their faces lengthened into snouts and their backs became covered with long gray hairs. This was humiliation enough, but the most horrible moment was the one in which the two poor creatures felt their tails appear. Overcome with shame and grief, they tried to cry and bemoan their fate. But what is done can\'t be undone! Instead of moans and cries, they burst forth into loud donkey brays, which sounded very much like, "Haw! Haw! Haw!" At that moment, a loud knocking was heard at the door and a voice called to them: "Open! I am the Little Man, the driver of the wagon which brought you here. Open, I say, or beware!" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn209.txt b/text/sn209.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..189ee13259cdebab82ba2644b4e7a461deabeab6 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn209.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Roll up for the Greatest Show on Earth - Pinocchio the Performing Donkey! This is a very lively chapter, read with great verve by Natasha. Catch up on earlier chapters here CHAPTER 33 Pinocchio, having become a Donkey, is bought by the owner of a Circus, who wants to teach him to do tricks. The Donkey becomes lame and is sold to a man who wants to use his skin for a drumhead. Very sad and downcast were the two poor little fellows as they stood and looked at each other. Outside the room, the Little Man grew more and more impatient, and finally gave the door such a violent kick that it flew open. With his usual sweet smile on his lips, he looked at Pinocchio and Lamp-Wick and said to them: "Fine work, boys! You have brayed well, so well that I recognized your voices immediately, and here I am." On hearing this, the two Donkeys bowed their heads in shame, dropped their ears, and put their tails between their legs. At first, the Little Man petted and caressed them and smoothed down their hairy coats. Then he took out a currycomb and worked over them till they shone like glass. Satisfied with the looks of the two little animals, he bridled them and took them to a market place far away from the Land of Toys, in the hope of selling them at a good price. In fact, he did not have to wait very long for an offer. Lamp-Wick was bought by a farmer whose donkey had died the day before. Pinocchio went to the owner of a circus, who wanted to teach him to do tricks for his audiences.', "And now do you understand what the Little Man's profession was? This horrid little being, whose face shone with kindness, went about the world looking for boys. Lazy boys, boys who hated books, boys who wanted to run away from home, boys who were tired of school--all these were his joy and his fortune. He took them with him to the Land of Toys and let them enjoy themselves to their heart's content. When, after months of all play and no work, they became little donkeys, he sold them on the market place. In a few years, he had become a millionaire.", 'What happened to Lamp-Wick? My dear children, I do not know. Pinocchio, I can tell you, met with great hardships even from the first day. After putting him in a stable, his new master filled his manger with straw, but Pinocchio, after tasting a mouthful, spat it out. Then the man filled the manger with hay. But Pinocchio did not like that any better. "Ah, you don\'t like hay either?" he cried angrily. "Wait, my pretty Donkey, I\'ll teach you not to be so particular." Without more ado, he took a whip and gave the Donkey a hearty blow across the legs. Pinocchio screamed with pain and as he screamed he brayed: "Haw! Haw! Haw! I can\'t digest straw!" "Then eat the hay!" answered his master, who understood the Donkey perfectly. "Haw! Haw! Haw! Hay gives me a headache!" "Do you pretend, by any chance, that I should feed you duck or chicken?" asked the man again, and, angrier than ever, he gave poor Pinocchio another lashing. At that second beating, Pinocchio became very quiet and said no more. After that, the door of the stable was closed and he was left alone. It was many hours since he had eaten anything and he started to yawn from hunger. As he yawned, he opened a mouth as big as an oven. Finally, not finding anything else in the manger, he tasted the hay. After tasting it, he chewed it well, closed his eyes, and swallowed it. "This hay is not bad," he said to himself. "But how much happier I should be if I had studied! Just now, instead of hay, I should be eating some good bread and butter. Patience!" Next morning, when he awoke, Pinocchio looked in the manger for more hay, but it was all gone. He had eaten it all during the night. He tried the straw, but, as he chewed away at it, he noticed to his great disappointment that it tasted neither like rice nor like macaroni. "Patience!" he repeated as he chewed. "If only my misfortune might serve as a lesson to disobedient boys who refuse to study! Patience! Have patience!" "Patience indeed!" shouted his master just then, as he came into the stable. "Do you think, perhaps, my little Donkey, that I have brought you here only to give you food and drink? Oh, no! You are to help me earn some fine gold pieces, do you hear? Come along, now. I am going to teach you to jump and bow, to dance a waltz and a polka, and even to stand on your head." Poor Pinocchio, whether he liked it or not, had to learn all these wonderful things; but it took him three long months and cost him many, many lashings before he was pronounced perfect.', "The day came at last when Pinocchio's master was able to announce an extraordinary performance. The announcements, posted all around the town, and written in large letters, read thus:", ' GREAT SPECTACLE TONIGHT LEAPS AND EXERCISES BY THE GREAT ARTISTS AND THE FAMOUS HORSES of the COMPANY First Public Appearance of the FAMOUS DONKEY called PINOCCHIO THE STAR OF THE DANCE ---- The Theater will be as Light as Day That night, as you can well imagine, the theater was filled to overflowing one hour before the show was scheduled to start. Not an orchestra chair could be had, not a balcony seat, nor a gallery seat; not even for their weight in gold. The place swarmed with boys and girls of all ages and sizes, wriggling and dancing about in a fever of impatience to see the famous Donkey dance. When the first part of the performance was over, the Owner and Manager of the circus, in a black coat, white knee breeches, and patent leather boots, presented himself to the public and in a loud, pompous voice made the following announcement: "Most honored friends, Gentlemen and Ladies! "Your humble servant, the Manager of this theater, presents himself before you tonight in order to introduce to you the greatest, the most famous Donkey in the world, a Donkey that has had the great honor in his short life of performing before the kings and queens and emperors of all the great courts of Europe. "We thank you for your attention!" This speech was greeted by much laughter and applause. And the applause grew to a roar when Pinocchio, the famous Donkey, appeared in the circus ring. He was handsomely arrayed. A new bridle of shining leather with buckles of polished brass was on his back; two white camellias were tied to his ears; ribbons and tassels of red silk adorned his mane, which was divided into many curls. A great sash of gold and silver was fastened around his waist and his tail was decorated with ribbons of many brilliant colors. He was a handsome Donkey indeed! The Manager, when introducing him to the public, added these words: "Most honored audience! I shall not take your time tonight to tell you of the great difficulties which I have encountered while trying to tame this animal, since I found him in the wilds of Africa. Observe, I beg of you, the savage look of his eye. All the means used by centuries of civilization in subduing wild beasts failed in this case. I had finally to resort to the gentle language of the whip in order to bring him to my will. With all my kindness, however, I never succeeded in gaining my Donkey\'s love. He is still today as savage as the day I found him. He still fears and hates me. But I have found in him one great redeeming feature. Do you see this little bump on his forehead? It is this bump which gives him his great talent of dancing and using his feet as nimbly as a human being. Admire him, O signori, and enjoy yourselves. I let you, now, be the judges of my success as a teacher of animals. Before I leave you, I wish to state that there will be another performance tomorrow night. If the weather threatens rain, the great spectacle will take place at eleven o\'clock in the morning." The Manager bowed and then turned to Pinocchio and said: "Ready, Pinocchio! Before starting your performance, salute your audience!" Pinocchio obediently bent his two knees to the ground and remained kneeling until the Manager, with the crack of the whip, cried sharply: "Walk!" The Donkey lifted himself on his four feet and walked around the ring. A few minutes passed and again the voice of the Manager called: "Quickstep!" and Pinocchio obediently changed his step. "Gallop!" and Pinocchio galloped. "Full speed!" and Pinocchio ran as fast as he could. As he ran the master raised his arm and a pistol shot rang in the air. At the shot, the little Donkey fell to the ground as if he were really dead. A shower of applause greeted the Donkey as he arose to his feet. Cries and shouts and handclappings were heard on all sides. At all that noise, Pinocchio lifted his head and raised his eyes. There, in front of him, in a box sat a beautiful woman. Around her neck she wore a long gold chain, from which hung a large medallion. On the medallion was painted the picture of a Marionette. "That picture is of me! That beautiful lady is my Fairy!" said Pinocchio to himself, recognizing her. He felt so happy that he tried his best to cry out: "Oh, my Fairy! My own Fairy!" But instead of words, a loud braying was heard in the theater, so loud and so long that all the spectators--men, women, and children, but especially the children--burst out laughing. Then, in order to teach the Donkey that it was not good manners to bray before the public, the Manager hit him on the nose with the handle of the whip. The poor little Donkey stuck out a long tongue and licked his nose for a long time in an effort to take away the pain. And what was his grief when on looking up toward the boxes, he saw that the Fairy had disappeared! He felt himself fainting, his eyes filled with tears, and he wept bitterly. No one knew it, however, least of all the Manager, who, cracking his whip, cried out: "Bravo, Pinocchio! Now show us how gracefully you can jump through the rings." Pinocchio tried two or three times, but each time he came near the ring, he found it more to his taste to go under it. The fourth time, at a look from his master he leaped through it, but as he did so his hind legs caught in the ring and he fell to the floor in a heap. When he got up, he was lame and could hardly limp as far as the stable. "Pinocchio! We want Pinocchio! We want the little Donkey!" cried the boys from the orchestra, saddened by the accident. No one saw Pinocchio again that evening. The next morning the veterinary--that is, the animal doctor--declared that he would be lame for the rest of his life. "What do I want with a lame donkey?" said the Manager to the stableboy. "Take him to the market and sell him." When they reached the square, a buyer was soon found. "How much do you ask for that little lame Donkey?" he asked. "Four dollars." "I\'ll give you four cents. Don\'t think I\'m buying him for work. I want only his skin. It looks very tough and I can use it to make myself a drumhead. I belong to a musical band in my village and I need a drum." I leave it to you, my dear children, to picture to yourself the great pleasure with which Pinocchio heard that he was to become a drumhead! As soon as the buyer had paid the four cents, the Donkey changed hands. His new owner took him to a high cliff overlooking the sea, put a stone around his neck, tied a rope to one of his hind feet, gave him a push, and threw him into the water. Pinocchio sank immediately. And his new master sat on the cliff waiting for him to drown, so as to skin him and make himself a drumhead. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn21.txt b/text/sn21.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6b42b6a6c8d821c76cf2838ed8d71e5ad17a0b6f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn21.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Years of the Rat: 1996,2008,2020,2032 Read by Natasha. Duration 8.30. The other day, Bertie asked me to pop up to the palace kitchens to see if I could find him a nice piece of cheese. As you probably know, frogs don’t normally eat cheese, but Bertie is no ordinary frog – after all, he used to be a prince. “Oh Natasha,” he said, “Green slime for dinner is all very well, but I do so miss the taste of a nice piece of creamy cheddar cheese with just a little tang to it. Be a dear, and see if you can find me some up at the palace.” But before I reached the door of the kitchen, I heard a scream from inside. At first, I thought that perhaps someone had seen a ghost because there are a few of those hanging around the palace, but then I heard the cook call out, “Rat! Rat! RAAAAAAAT!” The door was open a crack, and a moment later a grey creature with a pink nose squeezed through the opening and scuttled down the corridor. It almost ran over my toes. I couldn’t help myself. I said, “EEEEEEEEK!” Because although some of my best friends are animals, I can’t say I’m all that fond of rats. In fact, they are probably my least favourite creatures of all, apart from cockroaches, and spitting cobras, oh yes, and I”m not so keen on jellyfish either. There was such a commotion inside the kitchen that it didn’t seem the right moment to wander in asking for a piece of cheddar, and so I went back down the garden to tell Bertie and the pondlife what I had just seen – a rat inside the royal palace. Whatever next? When I arrived at the pond, I found that the birds, fish, and amphibians who live there were holding a meeting. Sadie the black Swan was speaking and when she speaks, everyone listens, because she has what is called a very commanding presence. “This is not a village pond,” she said. “It’s a royal pond. There is no place here for a common, vulgar creature who belongs in the sewer.” A Canada Goose said, “Honk honk!" And all the ducklings and cygnets – those are baby swans – cheeped and twittered in agreement. Only Colin the Carp said, “Humph. She thinks she’s our queen, she does.” It was only then that I noticed that that not far away, the rat was hiding in the reeds. His little pink nose was twitching, and I could see that he was frightened. To my surprise, I actually felt quite sorry for him. “I say we should expel the rat forthwith!” Said Sadie. The waterfowl honked, quacked and twittered even louder than before. I thought the rat was done for, but then Bertie began to speak. “Quiet. Quiet!” he called out. Gradually the noise died down. “Now Sadie is quite right,” he said. “When she says that this is a special pond, it is indeed a royal waterway, and nobody is a greater patriot for a pond than myself. But I think I know a thing or two about being royal. After all, I used to be a prince. And let me tell you something. First of all, a true prince never turns anyone away because of the way they were born. It doesn’t matter if you are a peacock or a rat. All creatures are equal. That’s the prince’s code. Except for dragons of course - we can’t have them around the place, because it’s our duty to fight them. But that’s a different matter. Now let me tell you a secret. I might be a frog, but I was born in the Chinese Year of the Rat. And if a prince can be a rat – as well as a frog – then I say that rats have just as much right to live in a royal place as anyone. As it happens, creatures who are born in the Year of the Rat are rather nice. They are smart and ambitious and easy to like. Now here’s another thing. It just so happens that this year is the Year of the Rat. Do you know what that means? It means that rats are lucky this year! What’s more, to turn a rat away from our pond in the Year of the Rat would bring very bad luck indeed. So I say, let’s hold a New Year’s party for the Chinese Year of the Rat, and let’s invite our new friend to be our guest of honour!" Everyone honked and squawked and twittered even loader than before. The little tadpoles did somersaults in the water and even Colin the Carp was so moved that there was a little tear in his eye. Sadie said, “Oh Bertie. You’re so dignified. Now I see that it is indeed truly gracious to be kind to all creatures, even if they are yucky!” At the party, everyone ate loads and loads of green slime, except for the rat and Bertie, who stuffed themselves with a huge piece of cheddar cheese which I brought down from the palace especially for them. And that’s the story of how one of the ugliest and hated creatures on earth was granted sanctuary on the pond because it’s a royal pond that lives by the Prince’s Code – by the Royal Diktat of Bertie. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn210.txt b/text/sn210.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fac7ebbf79b6b912bf8f700fb26c9cd5cc0f1b07 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn210.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +How many times as our little puppet been on the point of death? In this chapter a cruel new owner tries to drown him in the sea, and then he is chased by a shark. Can he escape? CHAPTER 34 Down into the sea, deeper and deeper, sank Pinocchio, and finally, after fifty minutes of waiting, the man on the cliff said to himself: "By this time my poor little lame Donkey must be drowned. Up with him and then I can get to work on my beautiful drum."', "He pulled the rope which he had tied to Pinocchio's leg--pulled and pulled and pulled and, at last, he saw appear on the surface of the water--Can you guess what? Instead of a dead donkey, he saw a very much alive Marionette, wriggling and squirming like an eel.", 'Seeing that wooden Marionette, the poor man thought he was dreaming and sat there with his mouth wide open and his eyes popping out of his head. Gathering his wits together, he said: "And the Donkey I threw into the sea?" "I am that Donkey," answered the Marionette laughing. "You?" "I." "Ah, you little cheat! Are you poking fun at me?" "Poking fun at you? Not at all, dear Master. I am talking seriously." "But, then, how is it that you, who a few minutes ago were a donkey, are now standing before me a wooden Marionette?" "It may be the effect of salt water. The sea is fond of playing these tricks." "Be careful, Marionette, be careful! Don\'t laugh at me! Woe be to you, if I lose my patience!" "Well, then, my Master, do you want to know my whole story? Untie my leg and I can tell it to you better."', "The old fellow, curious to know the true story of the Marionette's life, immediately untied the rope which held his foot. Pinocchio, feeling free as a bird of the air, began his tale:", '"Know, then, that, once upon a time, I was a wooden Marionette, just as I am today. One day I was about to become a boy, a real boy, but on account of my laziness and my hatred of books, and because I listened to bad companions, I ran away from home. One beautiful morning, I awoke to find myself changed into a donkey--long ears, gray coat, even a tail! What a shameful day for me! I hope you will never experience one like it, dear Master. I was taken to the fair and sold to a Circus Owner, who tried to make me dance and jump through the rings. One night, during a performance, I had a bad fall and became lame. Not knowing what to do with a lame donkey, the Circus Owner sent me to the market place and you bought me." "Indeed I did! And I paid four cents for you. Now who will return my money to me?" "But why did you buy me? You bought me to do me harm--to kill me--to make a drumhead out of me!" "Indeed I did! And now where shall I find another skin?" "Never mind, dear Master. There are so many donkeys in this world." "Tell me, impudent little rogue, does your story end here?" "One more word," answered the Marionette, "and I am through. After buying me, you brought me here to kill me. But feeling sorry for me, you tied a stone to my neck and threw me to the bottom of the sea. That was very good and kind of you to want me to suffer as little as possible and I shall remember you always. And now my Fairy will take care of me, even if you--" "Your Fairy? Who is she?" "She is my mother, and, like all other mothers who love their children, she never loses sight of me, even though I do not deserve it. And today this good Fairy of mine, as soon as she saw me in danger of drowning, sent a thousand fishes to the spot where I lay. They thought I was really a dead donkey and began to eat me. What great bites they took! One ate my ears, another my nose, a third my neck and my mane. Some went at my legs and some at my back, and among the others, there was one tiny fish so gentle and polite that he did me the great favor of eating even my tail." "From now on," said the man, horrified, "I swear I shall never again taste fish. How I should enjoy opening a mullet or a whitefish just to find there the tail of a dead donkey!" "I think as you do," answered the Marionette, laughing. "Still, you must know that when the fish finished eating my donkey coat, which covered me from head to foot, they naturally came to the bones--or rather, in my case, to the wood, for as you know, I am made of very hard wood. After the first few bites, those greedy fish found out that the wood was not good for their teeth, and, afraid of indigestion, they turned and ran here and there without saying good-by or even as much as thank you to me. Here, dear Master, you have my story. You know now why you found a Marionette and not a dead donkey when you pulled me out of the water." "I laugh at your story!" cried the man angrily. "I know that I spent four cents to get you and I want my money back. Do you know what I can do; I am going to take you to the market once more and sell you as dry firewood." "Very well, sell me. I am satisfied," said Pinocchio. But as he spoke, he gave a quick leap and dived into the sea. Swimming away as fast as he could, he cried out, laughing: "Good-by, Master. If you ever need a skin for your drum, remember me." He swam on and on. After a while, he turned around again and called louder than before: "Good-by, Master. If you ever need a piece of good dry firewood, remember me." In a few seconds he had gone so far he could hardly be seen. All that could be seen of him was a very small black dot moving swiftly on the blue surface of the water, a little black dot which now and then lifted a leg or an arm in the air. One would have thought that Pinocchio had turned into a porpoise playing in the sun. After swimming for a long time, Pinocchio saw a large rock in the middle of the sea, a rock as white as marble. High on the rock stood a little Goat bleating and calling and beckoning to the Marionette to come to her. There was something very strange about that little Goat. Her coat was not white or black or brown as that of any other goat, but azure, a deep brilliant color that reminded one of the hair of the lovely maiden.', "Pinocchio's heart beat fast, and then faster and faster. He redoubled his efforts and swam as hard as he could toward the white rock. He was almost halfway over, when suddenly a horrible sea monster stuck its head out of the water, an enormous head with a huge mouth, wide open, showing three rows of gleaming teeth, the mere sight of which would have filled you with fear.", 'Do you know what it was? That sea monster was no other than the enormous Shark, which has often been mentioned in this story and which, on account of its cruelty, had been nicknamed "The Attila of the Sea" by both fish and fishermen. Poor Pinocchio! The sight of that monster frightened him almost to death! He tried to swim away from him, to change his path, to escape, but that immense mouth kept coming nearer and nearer. "Hasten, Pinocchio, I beg you!" bleated the little Goat on the high rock. And Pinocchio swam desperately with his arms, his body, his legs, his feet. "Quick, Pinocchio, the monster is coming nearer!" Pinocchio swam faster and faster, and harder and harder. "Faster, Pinocchio! The monster will get you! There he is! There he is! Quick, quick, or you are lost!" Pinocchio went through the water like a shot--swifter and swifter. He came close to the rock. The Goat leaned over and gave him one of her hoofs to help him up out of the water. Alas! It was too late. The monster overtook him and the Marionette found himself in between the rows of gleaming white teeth. Only for a moment, however, for the Shark took a deep breath and, as he breathed, he drank in the Marionette as easily as he would have sucked an egg. Then he swallowed him so fast that Pinocchio, falling down into the body of the fish, lay stunned for a half hour. When he recovered his senses the Marionette could not remember where he was. Around him all was darkness, a darkness so deep and so black that for a moment he thought he had put his head into an inkwell. He listened for a few moments and heard nothing. Once in a while a cold wind blew on his face. At first he could not understand where that wind was coming from, but after a while he understood that it came from the lungs of the monster. I forgot to tell you that the Shark was suffering from asthma, so that whenever he breathed a storm seemed to blow. Pinocchio at first tried to be brave, but as soon as he became convinced that he was really and truly in the Shark\'s stomach, he burst into sobs and tears. "Help! Help!" he cried. "Oh, poor me! Won\'t someone come to save me?" "Who is there to help you, unhappy boy?" said a rough voice, like a guitar out of tune. "Who is talking?" asked Pinocchio, frozen with terror. "It is I, a poor Tunny swallowed by the Shark at the same time as you. And what kind of a fish are you?" "I have nothing to do with fishes. I am a Marionette." "If you are not a fish, why did you let this monster swallow you?" "I didn\'t let him. He chased me and swallowed me without even a \'by your leave\'! And now what are we to do here in the dark?" "Wait until the Shark has digested us both, I suppose." "But I don\'t want to be digested," shouted Pinocchio, starting to sob. "Neither do I," said the Tunny, "but I am wise enough to think that if one is born a fish, it is more dignified to die under the water than in the frying pan." "What nonsense!" cried Pinocchio. "Mine is an opinion," replied the Tunny, "and opinions should be respected." "But I want to get out of this place. I want to escape." "Go, if you can!" "Is this Shark that has swallowed us very long?" asked the Marionette. "His body, not counting the tail, is almost a mile long." While talking in the darkness, Pinocchio thought he saw a faint light in the distance. "What can that be?" he said to the Tunny. "Some other poor fish, waiting as patiently as we to be digested by the Shark." "I want to see him. He may be an old fish and may know some way of escape." "I wish you all good luck, dear Marionette." "Good-by, Tunny." "Good-by, Marionette, and good luck." "When shall I see you again?" "Who knows? It is better not to think about it." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn211.txt b/text/sn211.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9a77c93ab3de9d392a8668a04eaaf67d192b1f1f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn211.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pinocchio is inside the belly of the asthmatic shark. After talking to a little fish he meets somebody else - someone quite unexpected. Catch up with earlier chapters here. CHAPTER 35', "In the Shark's body Pinocchio finds whom? Read this chapter, my children, and you will know. ", 'Pinocchio, as soon as he had said good-by to his good friend, the Tunny, tottered away in the darkness and began to walk as well as he could toward the faint light which glowed in the distance. As he walked his feet splashed in a pool of greasy and slippery water, which had such a heavy smell of fish fried in oil that Pinocchio thought it was Lent.', "The farther on he went, the brighter and clearer grew the tiny light. On and on he walked till finally he found--I give you a thousand guesses, my dear children! He found a little table set for dinner and lighted by a candle stuck in a glass bottle; and near the table sat a little old man, white as the snow, eating live fish. They wriggled so that, now and again, one of them slipped out of the old man's mouth and escaped into the darkness under the table.", "At this sight, the poor Marionette was filled with such great and sudden happiness that he almost dropped in a faint. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to say a thousand and one things, but all he could do was to stand still, stuttering and stammering brokenly. At last, with a great effort, he was able to let out a scream of joy and, opening wide his arms he threw them around the old man's neck.", '"Oh, Father, dear Father! Have I found you at last? Now I shall never, never leave you again!" "Are my eyes really telling me the truth?" answered the old man, rubbing his eyes. "Are you really my own dear Pinocchio?" "Yes, yes, yes! It is I! Look at me! And you have forgiven me, haven\'t you? Oh, my dear Father, how good you are! And to think that I--Oh, but if you only knew how many misfortunes have fallen on my head and how many troubles I have had! Just think that on the day you sold your old coat to buy me my A-B-C book so that I could go to school, I ran away to the Marionette Theater and the proprietor caught me and wanted to burn me to cook his roast lamb! He was the one who gave me the five gold pieces for you, but I met the Fox and the Cat, who took me to the Inn of the Red Lobster. There they ate like wolves and I left the Inn alone and I met the Assassins in the wood. I ran and they ran after me, always after me, till they hanged me to the branch of a giant oak tree. Then the Fairy of the Azure Hair sent the coach to rescue me and the doctors, after looking at me, said, \'If he is not dead, then he is surely alive,\' and then I told a lie and my nose began to grow. It grew and it grew, till I couldn\'t get it through the door of the room. And then I went with the Fox and the Cat to the Field of Wonders to bury the gold pieces. The Parrot laughed at me and, instead of two thousand gold pieces, I found none. When the Judge heard I had been robbed, he sent me to jail to make the thieves happy; and when I came away I saw a fine bunch of grapes hanging on a vine. The trap caught me and the Farmer put a collar on me and made me a watchdog. He found out I was innocent when I caught the Weasels and he let me go. The Serpent with the tail that smoked started to laugh and a vein in his chest broke and so I went back to the Fairy\'s house. She was dead, and the Pigeon, seeing me crying, said to me, \'I have seen your father building a boat to look for you in America,\' and I said to him, \'Oh, if I only had wings!\' and he said to me, \'Do you want to go to your father?\' and I said, \'Perhaps, but how?\' and he said, \'Get on my back. I\'ll take you there.\' We flew all night long, and next morning the fishermen were looking toward the sea, crying, \'There is a poor little man drowning,\' and I knew it was you, because my heart told me so and I waved to you from the shore--" "I knew you also," put in Geppetto, "and I wanted to go to you; but how could I? The sea was rough and the whitecaps overturned the boat. Then a Terrible Shark came up out of the sea and, as soon as he saw me in the water, swam quickly toward me, put out his tongue, and swallowed me as easily as if I had been a chocolate peppermint." "And how long have you been shut away in here?" "From that day to this, two long weary years--two years, my Pinocchio, which have been like two centuries." "And how have you lived? Where did you find the candle? And the matches with which to light it--where did you get them?" "You must know that, in the storm which swamped my boat, a large ship also suffered the same fate. The sailors were all saved, but the ship went right to the bottom of the sea, and the same Terrible Shark that swallowed me, swallowed most of it." "What! Swallowed a ship?" asked Pinocchio in astonishment. "At one gulp. The only thing he spat out was the main-mast, for it stuck in his teeth. To my own good luck, that ship was loaded with meat, preserved foods, crackers, bread, bottles of wine, raisins, cheese, coffee, sugar, wax candles, and boxes of matches. With all these blessings, I have been able to live happily on for two whole years, but now I am at the very last crumbs. Today there is nothing left in the cupboard, and this candle you see here is the last one I have." "And then?" "And then, my dear, we\'ll find ourselves in darkness." "Then, my dear Father," said Pinocchio, "there is no time to lose. We must try to escape." "Escape! How?" "We can run out of the Shark\'s mouth and dive into the sea." "You speak well, but I cannot swim, my dear Pinocchio." "Why should that matter? You can climb on my shoulders and I, who am a fine swimmer, will carry you safely to the shore." "Dreams, my boy!" answered Geppetto, shaking his head and smiling sadly. "Do you think it possible for a Marionette, a yard high, to have the strength to carry me on his shoulders and swim?" "Try it and see! And in any case, if it is written that we must die, we shall at least die together." Not adding another word, Pinocchio took the candle in his hand and going ahead to light the way, he said to his father: "Follow me and have no fear." They walked a long distance through the stomach and the whole body of the Shark. When they reached the throat of the monster, they stopped for a while to wait for the right moment in which to make their escape. I want you to know that the Shark, being very old and suffering from asthma and heart trouble, was obliged to sleep with his mouth open. Because of this, Pinocchio was able to catch a glimpse of the sky filled with stars, as he looked up through the open jaws of his new home. "The time has come for us to escape," he whispered, turning to his father. "The Shark is fast asleep. The sea is calm and the night is as bright as day. Follow me closely, dear Father, and we shall soon be saved."', "No sooner said than done. They climbed up the throat of the monster till they came to that immense open mouth. There they had to walk on tiptoes, for if they tickled the Shark's long tongue he might awaken--and where would they be then? The tongue was so wide and so long that it looked like a country road. The two fugitives were just about to dive into the sea when the Shark sneezed very suddenly and, as he sneezed, he gave Pinocchio and Geppetto such a jolt that they found themselves thrown on their backs and dashed once more and very unceremoniously into the stomach of the monster.", 'To make matters worse, the candle went out and father and son were left in the dark. "And now?" asked Pinocchio with a serious face. "Now we are lost." "Why lost? Give me your hand, dear Father, and be careful not to slip!" "Where will you take me?" "We must try again. Come with me and don\'t be afraid."', "With these words Pinocchio took his father by the hand and, always walking on tiptoes, they climbed up the monster's throat for a second time. They then crossed the whole tongue and jumped over three rows of teeth. But before they took the last great leap, the Marionette said to his father:", '"Climb on my back and hold on tightly to my neck. I\'ll take care of everything else." As soon as Geppetto was comfortably seated on his shoulders, Pinocchio, very sure of what he was doing, dived into the water and started to swim. The sea was like oil, the moon shone in all splendor, and the Shark continued to sleep so soundly that not even a cannon shot would have awakened him. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn212.txt b/text/sn212.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c9689cc39aa3077ef114d8c866d702536c9f61ba --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn212.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +It's here ! The final chapter of Pinocchio. We do hope that you have enjoyed this story, and now realise that there is a lot more to Pinocchio than you can gleam from the Disney movie. The story has been both hilarious and tragic. It is full of invention and twists and turns. We believe that Natasha' reading has brought out the energy, wit and charm of the writing by Carlo Collodi. We also hope you have enjoyed the lovely pictures by Chiara which we commissioned. ", 'In this last chapter we meet some old friends, and Pinocchio behaves in an unaccustomed way. Catch up with earlier chapters here. CHAPTER 36 Pinocchio finally ceases to be a Marionette and becomes a boy "My dear Father, we are saved!" cried the Marionette. "All we have to do now is to get to the shore, and that is easy." Without another word, he swam swiftly away in an effort to reach land as soon as possible. All at once he noticed that Geppetto was shivering and shaking as if with a high fever. Was he shivering from fear or from cold? Who knows? Perhaps a little of both. But Pinocchio, thinking his father was frightened, tried to comfort him by saying: "Courage, Father! In a few moments we shall be safe on land." "But where is that blessed shore?" asked the little old man, more and more worried as he tried to pierce the faraway shadows. "Here I am searching on all sides and I see nothing but sea and sky." "I see the shore," said the Marionette. "Remember, Father, that I am like a cat. I see better at night than by day." Poor Pinocchio pretended to be peaceful and contented, but he was far from that. He was beginning to feel discouraged, his strength was leaving him, and his breathing was becoming more and more labored. He felt he could not go on much longer, and the shore was still far away. He swam a few more strokes. Then he turned to Geppetto and cried out weakly: "Help me, Father! Help, for I am dying!" Father and son were really about to drown when they heard a voice like a guitar out of tune call from the sea: "What is the trouble?" "It is I and my poor father." "I know the voice. You are Pinocchio." "Exactly. And you?" "I am the Tunny, your companion in the Shark\'s stomach." "And how did you escape?" "I imitated your example. You are the one who showed me the way and after you went, I followed." "Tunny, you arrived at the right moment! I implore you, for the love you bear your children, the little Tunnies, to help us, or we are lost!" "With great pleasure indeed. Hang onto my tail, both of you, and let me lead you. In a twinkling you will be safe on land."', "Geppetto and Pinocchio, as you can easily imagine, did not refuse the invitation; indeed, instead of hanging onto the tail, they thought it better to climb on the Tunny's back.", '"Are we too heavy?" asked Pinocchio. "Heavy? Not in the least. You are as light as sea-shells," answered the Tunny, who was as large as a two-year-old horse. As soon as they reached the shore, Pinocchio was the first to jump to the ground to help his old father. Then he turned to the fish and said to him: "Dear friend, you have saved my father, and I have not enough words with which to thank you! Allow me to embrace you as a sign of my eternal gratitude." The Tunny stuck his nose out of the water and Pinocchio knelt on the sand and kissed him most affectionately on his cheek. At this warm greeting, the poor Tunny, who was not used to such tenderness, wept like a child. He felt so embarrassed and ashamed that he turned quickly, plunged into the sea, and disappeared. In the meantime day had dawned. Pinocchio offered his arm to Geppetto, who was so weak he could hardly stand, and said to him: "Lean on my arm, dear Father, and let us go. We will walk very, very slowly, and if we feel tired we can rest by the wayside." "And where are we going?" asked Geppetto. "To look for a house or a hut, where they will be kind enough to give us a bite of bread and a bit of straw to sleep on." They had not taken a hundred steps when they saw two rough-looking individuals sitting on a stone begging for alms. It was the Fox and the Cat, but one could hardly recognize them, they looked so miserable. The Cat, after pretending to be blind for so many years had really lost the sight of both eyes. And the Fox, old, thin, and almost hairless, had even lost his tail. That sly thief had fallen into deepest poverty, and one day he had been forced to sell his beautiful tail for a bite to eat. "Oh, Pinocchio," he cried in a tearful voice. "Give us some alms, we beg of you! We are old, tired, and sick." "Sick!" repeated the Cat. "Addio, false friends!" answered the Marionette. "You cheated me once, but you will never catch me again." "Believe us! Today we are truly poor and starving." "Starving!" repeated the Cat. "If you are poor; you deserve it! Remember the old proverb which says: \'Stolen money never bears fruit.\' Addio, false friends." "Have mercy on us!" "On us." "Addio, false friends. Remember the old proverb which says: \'Bad wheat always makes poor bread!\'" "Do not abandon us." "Abandon us," repeated the Cat. "Addio, false friends. Remember the old proverb: \'Whoever steals his neighbor\'s shirt, usually dies without his own.\'" Waving good-by to them, Pinocchio and Geppetto calmly went on their way. After a few more steps, they saw, at the end of a long road near a clump of trees, a tiny cottage built of straw. "Someone must live in that little hut," said Pinocchio. "Let us see for ourselves." They went and knocked at the door. "Who is it?" said a little voice from within. "A poor father and a poorer son, without food and with no roof to cover them," answered the Marionette. "Turn the key and the door will open," said the same little voice. Pinocchio turned the key and the door opened. As soon as they went in, they looked here and there and everywhere but saw no one. "Oh--ho, where is the owner of the hut?" cried Pinocchio, very much surprised. "Here I am, up here!" Father and son looked up to the ceiling, and there on a beam sat the Talking Cricket. "Oh, my dear Cricket," said Pinocchio, bowing politely. "Oh, now you call me your dear Cricket, but do you remember when you threw your hammer at me to kill me?" "You are right, dear Cricket. Throw a hammer at me now. I deserve it! But spare my poor old father." "I am going to spare both the father and the son. I have only wanted to remind you of the trick you long ago played upon me, to teach you that in this world of ours we must be kind and courteous to others, if we want to find kindness and courtesy in our own days of trouble." "You are right, little Cricket, you are more than right, and I shall remember the lesson you have taught me. But will you tell how you succeeded in buying this pretty little cottage?" "This cottage was given to me yesterday by a little Goat with blue hair." "And where did the Goat go?" asked Pinocchio. "I don\'t know." "And when will she come back?" "She will never come back. Yesterday she went away bleating sadly, and it seemed to me she said: \'Poor Pinocchio, I shall never see him again. . .the Shark must have eaten him by this time.\'" "Were those her real words? Then it was she--it was--my dear little Fairy," cried out Pinocchio, sobbing bitterly. After he had cried a long time, he wiped his eyes and then he made a bed of straw for old Geppetto. He laid him on it and said to the Talking Cricket: "Tell me, little Cricket, where shall I find a glass of milk for my poor Father?" "Three fields away from here lives Farmer John. He has some cows. Go there and he will give you what you want."', "Pinocchio ran all the way to Farmer John's house. The Farmer said to him:", '"How much milk do you want?" "I want a full glass." "A full glass costs a penny. First give me the penny." "I have no penny," answered Pinocchio, sad and ashamed. "Very bad, my Marionette," answered the Farmer, "very bad. If you have no penny, I have no milk." "Too bad," said Pinocchio and started to go. "Wait a moment," said Farmer John. "Perhaps we can come to terms. Do you know how to draw water from a well?" "I can try." "Then go to that well you see yonder and draw one hundred bucketfuls of water." "Very well." "After you have finished, I shall give you a glass of warm sweet milk." "I am satisfied." Farmer John took the Marionette to the well and showed him how to draw the water. Pinocchio set to work as well as he knew how, but long before he had pulled up the one hundred buckets, he was tired out and dripping with perspiration. He had never worked so hard in his life. "Until today," said the Farmer, "my donkey has drawn the water for me, but now that poor animal is dying." "Will you take me to see him?" said Pinocchio. "Gladly." As soon as Pinocchio went into the stable, he spied a little Donkey lying on a bed of straw in the corner of the stable. He was worn out from hunger and too much work. After looking at him a long time, he said to himself: "I know that Donkey! I have seen him before." And bending low over him, he asked: "Who are you?" At this question, the Donkey opened weary, dying eyes and answered in the same tongue: "I am Lamp-Wick." Then he closed his eyes and died. "Oh, my poor Lamp-Wick," said Pinocchio in a faint voice, as he wiped his eyes with some straw he had picked up from the ground. "Do you feel so sorry for a little donkey that has cost you nothing?" said the Farmer. "What should I do--I, who have paid my good money for him?" "But, you see, he was my friend." "Your friend?" "A classmate of mine." "What," shouted Farmer John, bursting out laughing. "What! You had donkeys in your school? How you must have studied!" The Marionette, ashamed and hurt by those words, did not answer, but taking his glass of milk returned to his father. From that day on, for more than five months, Pinocchio got up every morning just as dawn was breaking and went to the farm to draw water. And every day he was given a glass of warm milk for his poor old father, who grew stronger and better day by day. But he was not satisfied with this. He learned to make baskets of reeds and sold them. With the money he received, he and his father were able to keep from starving. Among other things, he built a rolling chair, strong and comfortable, to take his old father out for an airing on bright, sunny days. In the evening the Marionette studied by lamplight. With some of the money he had earned, he bought himself a secondhand volume that had a few pages missing, and with that he learned to read in a very short time. As far as writing was concerned, he used a long stick at one end of which he had whittled a long, fine point. Ink he had none, so he used the juice of blackberries or cherries. Little by little his diligence was rewarded. He succeeded, not only in his studies, but also in his work, and a day came when he put enough money together to keep his old father comfortable and happy. Besides this, he was able to save the great amount of fifty pennies. With it he wanted to buy himself a new suit. One day he said to his father: "I am going to the market place to buy myself a coat, a cap, and a pair of shoes. When I come back I\'ll be so dressed up, you will think I am a rich man." He ran out of the house and up the road to the village, laughing and singing. Suddenly he heard his name called, and looking around to see whence the voice came, he noticed a large snail crawling out of some bushes. "Don\'t you recognize me?" said the Snail. "Yes and no." "Do you remember the Snail that lived with the Fairy with Azure Hair? Do you not remember how she opened the door for you one night and gave you something to eat?" "I remember everything," cried Pinocchio. "Answer me quickly, pretty Snail, where have you left my Fairy? What is she doing? Has she forgiven me? Does she remember me? Does she still love me? Is she very far away from here? May I see her?" At all these questions, tumbling out one after another, the Snail answered, calm as ever: "My dear Pinocchio, the Fairy is lying ill in a hospital." "In a hospital?" "Yes, indeed. She has been stricken with trouble and illness, and she hasn\'t a penny left with which to buy a bite of bread." "Really? Oh, how sorry I am! My poor, dear little Fairy! If I had a million I should run to her with it! But I have only fifty pennies. Here they are. I was just going to buy some clothes. Here, take them, little Snail, and give them to my good Fairy." "What about the new clothes?" "What does that matter? I should like to sell these rags I have on to help her more. Go, and hurry. Come back here within a couple of days and I hope to have more money for you! Until today I have worked for my father. Now I shall have to work for my mother also. Good-by, and I hope to see you soon." The Snail, much against her usual habit, began to run like a lizard under a summer sun. When Pinocchio returned home, his father asked him: "And where is the new suit?" "I couldn\'t find one to fit me. I shall have to look again some other day."', "That night, Pinocchio, instead of going to bed at ten o'clock waited until midnight, and instead of making eight baskets, he made sixteen.", 'After that he went to bed and fell asleep. As he slept, he dreamed of his Fairy, beautiful, smiling, and happy, who kissed him and said to him, "Bravo, Pinocchio! In reward for your kind heart, I forgive you for all your old mischief. Boys who love and take good care of their parents when they are old and sick, deserve praise even though they may not be held up as models of obedience and good behavior. Keep on doing so well, and you will be happy." At that very moment, Pinocchio awoke and opened wide his eyes. What was his surprise and his joy when, on looking himself over, he saw that he was no longer a Marionette, but that he had become a real live boy! He looked all about him and instead of the usual walls of straw, he found himself in a beautifully furnished little room, the prettiest he had ever seen. In a twinkling, he jumped down from his bed to look on the chair standing near. There, he found a new suit, a new hat, and a pair of shoes. As soon as he was dressed, he put his hands in his pockets and pulled out a little leather purse on which were written the following words: The Fairy with Azure Hair returns fifty pennies to her dear Pinocchio with many thanks for his kind heart. The Marionette opened the purse to find the money, and behold--there were fifty gold coins! Pinocchio ran to the mirror. He hardly recognized himself. The bright face of a tall boy looked at him with wide-awake blue eyes, dark brown hair and happy, smiling lips. Surrounded by so much splendor, the Marionette hardly knew what he was doing. He rubbed his eyes two or three times, wondering if he were still asleep or awake and decided he must be awake. "And where is Father?" he cried suddenly. He ran into the next room, and there stood Geppetto, grown years younger overnight, spick and span in his new clothes and gay as a lark in the morning. He was once more Mastro Geppetto, the wood carver, hard at work on a lovely picture frame, decorating it with flowers and leaves, and heads of animals. "Father, Father, what has happened? Tell me if you can," cried Pinocchio, as he ran and jumped on his Father\'s neck. "This sudden change in our house is all your doing, my dear Pinocchio," answered Geppetto. "What have I to do with it?" "Just this. When bad boys become good and kind, they have the power of making their homes gay and new with happiness." "I wonder where the old Pinocchio of wood has hidden himself?" "There he is," answered Geppetto. And he pointed to a large Marionette leaning against a chair, head turned to one side, arms hanging limp, and legs twisted under him. After a long, long look, Pinocchio said to himself with great content: "How ridiculous I was as a Marionette! And how happy I am, now that I have become a real boy!" \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn213.txt b/text/sn213.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c3e41e338ad5d2468c5815dd3d27e3e71a087a3c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn213.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Dedicated to Lowenna and Fergus in China Taffy Morgan’s HARP Morgan is one of the oldest names in Welsh land. It means one who lives near the sea. One of these named Taffy, was, like nearly all Welsh people, very fond of singing. But unfortunately that the only person who loved to hear his voice was himself. It was very rough. And when it came to playing the harp, he was hardly better. Nobody could persuade him that his music was out of tune and his voice horrid. He continued to sing and play. Now, a welsh bard was passing by Morgan’s house. He was a professional storyteller, who made up verses and sang them for a living. People considered him to be a very great artist. He heard Taffy Morgan practising his scales La La LA LA LA SCREEETCH ! Someone on the street asked the poet how he liked the music which he had heard inside. "Music?" replied the bard with a sneer. "Is that what Morgan is trying? Why! I thought it was first the lowing of an aged cow, and then the meowing of a love-stick tomcat. Do you call that music?" The bard’s words were soon quoted by all Taffy Morgan’s neighbours, and he became known as “The Tomcat,” a name he did not appreciate. But he took no notice of his critics and continued his musical ways. One evening, when Morgan thought his singing unusually fine and felt sorry that he lacked an audience, he heard a knock at his door. He yelled out "Come in!" The door opened and there stood three tired-looking strangers. They appeared to be travellers. One of them said: Having heard the kind invitation, the three travellers sat down and began to eat. Meanwhile, without being invited to do so, their host began to sing for them. Now the three travellers were fairies in disguise. They were journeying over the country, from cottage to cottage, visiting the people. They came to reward all who gave them a welcome and were kind to them but to annoy and play tricks upon those who were stingy, bad-tempered, or sour. When they had finished eating, one of them said: "You have been good to us and we are grateful. Now,what can we do for you? We have the power to grant anything you may desire. Please tell us what you would like most." At this, Taffy looked hard in the faces of the three strangers, to see if one of them was the bard who had likened his voice in its ups and downs to a cow and a lovesick cat. Not seeing any familiar face, he plucked up his courage and said: "If you are not making fun of me, I would like to own a fairy harp. And, if I can have my wish in full, I want one that will play only lively tunes. No sad music for me!" Here Morgan stopped. Again he searched their faces, to see if they were laughing at him and then proceeded. "And something else, if I can have it; but it\'s really the same thing I am asking for." "Speak on, we are ready to do what you wish," answered the leader. "I want a harp, which, which no matter how badly I may play, will sound out sweet and jolly music."', "Just then, Morgan's wife and some neighbours entered the house. Immediately, the whole party, one and all, began dancing in the jolliest way. For hours, they kept up the mad whirl. Yet all the while, Taffy seemed happier and the women the merrier.", 'No telegraph ever carried the news faster, all over the region, that Morgan had a wonderful harp. All the grass in front of the house was soon worn away by the crowds, that came to hear and dance. As soon as Taffy touched the harp strings, the feet of everyone, young and old, began shuffling, nor could anyone stop, so long as Morgan played. Even very old, lame and one-legged people joined in. Several old women, whom nobody had persuaded for years to get out of their chairs, were cured of their aches and pains. Taffy, with his harp, enjoyed both fun and fame. It was party, party, party, all day and night. Hardly a moment’s peace could be enjoyed in the village. Pilgrims came from far and wide to hear Holy Morgan play and rid them of aches and pains. One day, in the crowd that stood around his door waiting to begin to hop and whirl, Morgan saw the bard who had compared his voice to a cow and a cat. The bard had come to see whether the stories about the harp were true or not. As soon as the harp music began, the bard’s feet began to go up, and his legs to kick and whirl. The more Morgan played, the madder the dance and the wilder the antics of the crowd. The bard had to join in the merriment, for he could not help himself. Soon they all began to spin round and round on the flagstones in front of the door, as if crazy. They broke soon broke the garden fence. Then they came into the house and knocked over the chairs and sofa, even when they cracked their shins against the wood. They bumped their heads against the walls and ceiling, and some scrambled over the roof and down again. The bard could no more stop his weary legs than could the other lunatics.', "To Morgan, his revenge was so sweet, that he kept on until the bard's legs gave way, and he fell down on top of people that had tumbled from sheer weariness because no more strength was left in them.", 'Yet the grass grew again when the crazy musician played no more. The air seemed sweeter to breathe, because of the silence. And the fairies kept on doing good to the people of goodwill, and today some of the sweetest singers in Wales come from the poorest homes.', "And I’m delighted to dedicate this story to Lowenna and Fergus who live in Guangzhou (Canton), China, and really enjoy listening to Storynory on journeys or while waiting for their father, Philip, to finish cooking dinner. They particularly enjoy the Lapis stories, and also enjoyed learning about the mysterious land of Yorkshire through 'The Secret Garden'. It sounded very different from south China!, writes their dad. Lowenna's birthday is on 26th November, and she asked to become a Storynory supporter for her birthday. I", 'Well, a very happy birthday to you Lowenna! And thank you to your family for supporting us on Patreon. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn214.txt b/text/sn214.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a00e5c389f037bb237a33b70a963b37dd2ab1285 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn214.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +WHY THE BACK DOOR WAS FRONT Read by Natasha In the days when there were no books, or writing, there was an old woman, who had a bad reputation. She pretended to be very poor, so as not to attract or tempt robbers. Yet those who knew her best, knew also that she had plenty of money and was always counting out her coins. What’s more the rumour went that she herself was a witch, and if she did not like someone, she would put a spell on their cattle to make them sick. The old woman denied all this, and declared it was only silly gossip of envious people who wanted her money. She lived so comfortably, she swore, because her son, who was a stonemason, who made much money by building chimneys, which had then first come into fashion. When he brought t her the profits of his jobs, she counted the coins, and because of this, some people were jealous, and told bad stories about her. She declared that she was good at saving money, but she was neither a miser, nor a kidnaper, nor a witch. One day, this old woman wanted more feathers to stuff into her bed, to make it softer and feel pleasanter for her old bones to rest upon. So she went to a farm, where they were plucking geese, and asked for a few handfuls of feathers. The angry man went to the old crone, when she was alone, and her strong son was away on a faraway job. He ordered her to remove the charm, which she had laid on his beasts, or he would tie her arms and legs together, and throw her into the river. The old woman denied vehemently that she possessed any magical powers, or had ever practiced the black arts. To make sure of it, the farmer made her say out loud, "The Blessing of God be upon your cattle!" To clinch the matter, he compelled her to repeat the Lord\'s Prayer, which she was able to do, without missing one syllable, and was very earnest, when she prayed. Now, as we have said, this was about the time that chimneys came into fashion. In very old days, a Welsh house was a round hut, with a thatched roof, without glass windows, and the smoke got out through the door and holes in the walls, in the best way it could. Long garlands of soot hung from the rafters. These, when the wind blew, or the fire was lively, would swing or dance or whirl, and often fall on the heads, or into the food, while the folks were eating. "You must be more careful about throwing out your rubbish , for other people have chimneys besides you." "What has that to do with sickness among my cows?" "Much indeed. Your family is the cause of your troubles, for they throw all their slops and rubbish down my chimney and put out my fire." The farmer was puzzled beyond the telling, for he owned all the land within a mile, and knew of no house in sight. "I see that my family have done wrong and injured yours. Pray forgive me. I\'ll do what I can to make amends for it." "It\'s no matter now, if you only do as I ask you. Shut up your front door, build a wall in its place, and then my family will not suffer from yours." The rich farmer thought all this was very funny, and he had a hearty laugh over it all. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn215.txt b/text/sn215.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..863c2f800517d112cb9cedd0578b787ae17c9897 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn215.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +In Greek mythology, Helen was the most beautiful woman from the age of the heroes. She was the wife of Menelaus, king of Sparta (one of several Greek kingdoms). After Helen ran away with Paris, prince of Troy, the Greek armies fought a ten year long war against Troy to win her back. The English playwright, Christopher Marlowe, called Helen, "the face that launched a thousand ships." The Judgement of Paris is the backstory to the Trojan War. When Paris, prince of Troy, is out hunting on the island of Crete, he comes across three goddesses: Aphrodite, goddess of love; Athena, goddess of wisdom; and Hera, the queen of the gods. The goddesses demand that he judges which of them is the most beautiful. When he selects Aphrodite, she promises him the hand of Helen as a reward. Unfortunately Helen is already married to Menelaus, king of Sparta. Later on in the Trojan War, Aphrodite takes the side of the Trojans, while Athena and Hera help the Greeks. Eris is a minor goddess of Greek mythology. She is the goddess of strife or quarrels. It is Eris who sparks the dispute between the three more important goddesses, Aphrodite, Athena and Hera. A long time ago, in the age of heroes, when gods and goddesses still took a close interest in human affairs, a great wedding was planned between a famous warrior called Peleus and a lovely sea nymph whose name was Thetis. All the kings and queens of the day were invited to the wedding feast, as well as all the immortal ones who lived on Mount Olympus – all that is, except for one, for no invitation was sent to Eris, the goddess of strife. Now strife is when people argue, and it was generally thought a bad idea to invite strife to a wedding party, in case she caused the happy couple to quarrel. Eris was extremely annoyed about being overlooked, and as revenge she decided to play a spiteful trick on the wedding guests. Just as the celebrations were at their height, she appeared in the banqueting hall dressed as a serving girl. A silver plate was in her hands, and on it was an apple on which she had written the words, “For the fairest of them all.” This she placed on the table where the three loveliest goddesses were sitting; their names were Hera, Athene and Aphrodite. Immediately as they saw the words on the apple, a quarrel broke out between the three goddesses. Hera said to the others, “I am the queen of all the immortal gods, and it follows that I must be far fairer than either of you two, therefore the apple belongs to me.” “My dear Hera,” said Athene, “You might be queen, but I am the goddess of wisdom, therefore I know absolutely everything that is worth knowing. You must believe me when I say that you are quite mistaken. Wisdom is beauty, and beauty is wisdom. They are one and the same thing, therefore the apple belongs to me.” “Darlings,” purred Aphrodite, “It’s quite obvious that the apple belongs to me. I possess the power of love because, to put it quite simply, I am so much more beautiful than anybody else.” The goddesses carried on arguing continuously for years after the wedding was over – for time means nothing to the immortal ones. The king of all the gods, mighty and thundering Zeus, became quite fed up with listening to their bickering. When, at length, he was at his wits’ end, he suggested to the three lovely goddesses that they resolve the question once and for all with a beauty contest. And that is exactly what they did. The three goddesses agreed on one thing: that the most handsome and fashionably dressed mortal who walked on the face of the earth was Paris, Prince of Troy. They decided to surprise him. One day when Paris was out hunting on the foothills of Mount Ida, he discovered three lovely goddesses standing beneath a tree. In all his life he had never seen such dazzling beauty. For a moment he stood amazed, then Hermes, the winged messenger of the gods, flew up to Paris and spoke to him as follows, “Hail Paris, prince of magnificent Troy. Lord Zeus, the king of all the gods, sends you his greetings. He wishes to bestow upon you a great honour. He asks that you give this apple to the fairest goddess of them all.” Paris, who normally had a keen eye for beauty, found it hard to choose. Each goddess was so beautiful. Hera had the most lovely milky white skin ever seen. Athene had the most dazzling, dancing eyes. And Aphrodite had the most charming smile. Which should he pick? At length, seeing that he was at a loss, Hera said to him, “Prince Paris, give the apple to me and I will give you the gift of great power.” Athene, not to be outdone by this offer, said, “Prince Paris, give the apple to me and I will give you the gift of great wisdom.” But Aphrodite laughed and said, "Paris my dear, don’t you listen to those two silly goddesses. What fun would you have with power or wisdom? Give the apple to me and I will give you a gift that is much more to your liking. I shall give you the love of the most beautiful woman on earth.” Now Paris no longer found the choice so hard to make. He had long been in love with the most beautiful woman on earth, whose name was Helen. It so happened that Helen was married to King Menelaus, and Paris had thought up until that moment that the possibility of his winning her love was beyond all hope, but now he understood that his chances could be greatly improved - and so Paris gave the apple to Aphrodite. She giggled with delight, but the other two goddesses were furious and flew directly back to Mount Olympus in a great huff, where they complained long and bitterly to Zeus about the unfairness of the competition. Zeus had a dark feeling that there was trouble in store for humankind. Paris set sail for the land of Sparta, where Menelaus was king and lived with his beautiful Queen Helen. Menelaus welcomed the famous prince into his palace, and while the two sat talking about the affairs of the world, Queen Helen came down from her perfumed room, looking as lovely as a goddess. The maid-servants brought her a seat and covered it with a soft lambswool rug, and she sat before her silver work box, but before she began to embroider, she glanced over at the visiting prince and questioned her husband, “Shall I guess the name of this prince who has come to visit us? Let us see if I am right or wrong? I have heard tell of a prince from far off Troy who is famous the world over for his looks and fashionable style. Is it he, Paris, prince of Troy who has come to stay with us?” “My dear wife,” said Menelaus, “As always, you are quite right. It is indeed, Paris, prince of Troy who is paying us the honour of his visit.” Paris acknowledged Queen Helen with a nod of his head. At dinner that night, Helen added a special potion into the wine, so that anyone who drank it would forget all his cares, and be happy for the rest of the evening. They feasted and made merry and while Menelaus was busy laughing and joking with one of his generals, Paris spoke softly to Helen. “Most beautiful queen,” he said, “I beg you, meet me tonight in the orchard beneath the palace walls and we shall sail away together in my ship, and head directly for Troy, the most magnificent city in all the world.” And because the goddess of love, Aphrodite, had wished it so, Helen could not help herself, and agreed to his suggestion. When King Menelaus awoke in the morning, and he discovered that his guest and his wife had run away together, he flew into a rage, kicking the furniture and punching the walls of his chamber. He swore before all the gods that his revenge would be truly terrible - so he went to see his elder brother, King Agamemnon of Argos, and said to him, “My dear brother, the honour of our family has been besmirched by this foreign peacock, this perfumed playboy, this prancing Prince of Troy. Let us gather together all the kings of Greece and combine our armies into the greatest force that has ever been seen since the dawn of history, and let us sail to the far off city of Troy, and teach Prince Paris some manners.” Although Agamemnon was wise and he knew that it is always a terrible mistake to rush headlong into conflict. He suggested first, that they send an ambassador to Troy to request the return of Queen Helen, whom he was sure had been abducted against her will. He knew that Paris’ father, King Priam of Troy was a good man, and he was sure that he would order his son to release her, and so they sent a message to Troy in the name of peace and reconciliation, but Helen did not wish to go home, and Prince Paris refused to return the lovely queen to her husband, saying that they had been brought together by the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite herself; and so that meant war. King Agamemnon, the brother of the wronged Menelaus, summoned all the kings of Greece and prepared a navy of a thousand ships, the greatest military force to ever set sail. And that is the story of how the great war between the Greeks and the Trojans was started by Prince Paris and Queen Helen. By Storynory \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn216.txt b/text/sn216.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..42b8bd105020faedc53f39ccf23e0044125077c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn216.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Troy Each of the great cities of Greece sent an army to join the war against the Trojans – each, that is, except for one: The city of Thebes refused to join the war, saying that it had no quarrel with the far away Trojans, and so the Greek King Agamemnon (Aga-mem-non) decided to teach the Thebans a lesson. He ordered his men to destroy their beautiful city and take its treasure – and that is what they did. While the ruined city of Thebes was still burning, the greatest of the Greek warriors shared out the prizes of war. King Agamemnon chose for himself one of the captives - a beautiful young girl called Chryseis (Cry-see-is), a priest’s daughter. Agamemnon told her that she must live with him from now on, and be his slave. The girl wept bitterly and begged to be returned to her father, but King Agamemnon had a cruel heart and was unmoved by her tears. Eventually, the Greek ships reached Troy, and the army set up a vast camp on the beach not far from the city. One evening, the good old priest, who was the father of Chryseis, arrived at the camp and asked to meet King Agamemnon and all the greatest of the Greeks. He said, “Oh Agamemnon, leader of men, may the gods grant your wish to destroy the magnificent city of Troy, and may all the Greeks return home safely in their black ships, but grant me this favour; free my daughter and accept in her place a gift of great treasure that I have brought for you.” The Greek army cheered the old man for his generous offer, and for the love that he had shown for his daughter, but Agamemnon flew into a rage. “Old man,” said he, “let me not find you hanging about our ships, nor coming here again. I will not free your lovely daughter. She shall grow old in my house, in Argos, far from her home. So get out of my sight right now, or it will be the worse for you!” The priest was afraid and swiftly left, but later that evening he knelt down on the shore of the resounding sea and prayed to the immortal god, Apollo of the silver bow. Apollo heard the good old man’s prayer for just revenge, and he took up his silver bow and fired arrows into the Greek camp. The arrows of Apollo brought disease, and many of the Greek soldiers fell ill. By far the greatest of the Greek warriors was Achilles (A-kill-ees). He was faster and stronger than any man alive, and also very proud. When Achilles saw the Greek soldiers dying of disease, he called a meeting of all the generals and spoke as follows, “Noble Agamemnon, though you are our leader, I must speak the truth. It was wrong to threaten the priest, a good old man who came to you with a generous offer. The gods are angry with us for what you did, and matters must be put right. You must return the lovely Chryseis to her father.” King Agamemnon, was surprised to hear such words, as he was not at all used to being told what to do. “Great Achilles,” he said, “Brave and strong you may be, but I am king and I shall do what I like and you shall know your place!” To which Achilles replied, “You are too greedy! Why should all the Greeks suffer for your evil ways. I, for one, am not going to follow a leader like you into battle.” Now King Agamemnon was absolutely furious but he also understood that something must be done to appease the gods and stop the plague that was destroying his army, and so the next day he ordered a boat to take the young girl back to her father, but he also sent messengers to the tent of Achilles and ordered him hand over his own slave girl. From that moment on the pride of Achilles was so hurt that he refused to take part in the battle for Troy, but instead stayed inside his tent and sulked while the Greeks went out and fought. Soon after, the Trojans opened the great doors of their city and their army marched out - like a flock of wild birds swooping back and forth and calling with screeching voices. Now the finest warrior among the Trojans was Prince Hector. He was the brother of Paris, but he was quite different in character. Hector was brave and noble, while Paris loved fine clothes and parties and enjoyed his riches to the full. As they rode out to battle, Hector said to his brother, “Paris, it is for your sake that thousands of brave soldiers will die today. It is only because you ran away with the Greek Queen Helen that this great army has arrived at our gates with the aim of destroying our beautiful city, killing all the men, and carrying off the women and children as slaves. It would be better had you not been born, my brother.” When he heard this, Paris felt ashamed, and to make amends he drove his chariot out in front the Trojan army and towards the enemy. In his fiercest voice, Paris called out to the Greeks to send forth their bravest warrior, and to fight him in single combat to decide the war – so that others need not suffer. On the Greek side, King Menelaus (Menel-a-us) hated Paris more than any other man alive, so Menelaus jumped out of his chariot and said, “I will gladly fight Paris, and kill him with my spear which is made of ash wood and tipped with cruel bronze.” When Paris heard this, he was so frightened that he coiled back like a man who has seen a snake, and he shrank into the protection of his men. Great laughter arose from the Greek army, and the Trojans were furious with Prince Paris for bringing shame on them. Then Paris began to worry that if the beautiful Helen heard about his running away, she would not love him anymore. So he gathered his courage, and went out once more in front of the army, and again shouted out to the Greeks, “I call on you men to lay your swords and spears on the ground while King Menelaus and I fight one another – hero against hero.” Menelaus did not give Paris time to change his mind. He hurled his spear at him so that it broke his shield, but just missed his body. Paris fell backwards, and soon Menelaus was on him, dragging him by the plume of his helmet towards the Greek army. However, the Goddess of Love, Aphrodite, who was fond of Paris, saw what was happening and came to his aid disguised as a cloud. She scooped him into her lovely arms, and whisked him back to his Palace where the fair and fragrant Helen was waiting for him. So the Greeks and the Trojans fought each other in battle. Many brave soldiers were killed and wounded on both sides, but as long as Achilles refused to help the Greeks, the Trojans were stronger and drove the Greeks back to their camp. At night, a thousand camp fires glowed upon the plain, and by the light of each fire there sat fifty men while the horses chomped oats and corn beside their chariots and waited for dawn to come. The Greeks begged the great warrior Achilles to come out and fight, but still he refused to join the battle. His best friend, Patroclus, came up with a cunning plan. He secretly put on the magnificent armour of Achilles and went out into the battle, looking exactly like the great hero. He knew that when the Greeks saw him, they would gain courage at the sight of Achilles and fight with redoubled strength, and when the Trojans saw him, they would think that the warrior they most feared had returned, and would lose heart. When the Trojans saw Patroclus dressed like Achilles, Prince Hector flew at him with his spear and killed him. Only then did he discover that it was not Achilles whom he had killed, but Patroclus. When the mighty Achilles heard that his best friend had been killed by Hector, his anger and sorrow were great in equal measure, and he stood up before a meeting of the Greek army and said, “As you know, King Agamemnon has insulted me and I have every right not to fight in this stupid war; but now things have changed. My best friend has been killed by Prince Hector of Troy. It is for the sake of Patroclus, who was dearer to me than any other man, that I will take up the fight and avenge his death.” When the Greek army heard this, they all cheered and threw their helmets in the air, for they knew that with Achilles on their side, victory could be theirs. When Prince Hector saw that Achilles stood once again at the head of the Greek army, he knew that there was only one thing for it. He must go out and fight Achilles, and decide the fate of Troy. As Prince Hector was leaving for battle, he went in search of his wife, the lovely Andromache (An-drom-a-kee). He found her walking along the great walls of the city, holding their little baby in her arms. When she saw her husband, Andromache said, “Brave Hector, I beg you; do not go out today to fight Achilles. What will I do when you are gone? Think of your little son. What use is a father to him if he is dead?” Hector replied that he could not refuse to fight, as the Greeks and the Trojans would say he was a coward. He stretched his arms towards his child, but when boy saw the horsehair plume that nodded fiercely from his father’s helmet, he was scared and cried, nursing his head into his mother’s bosom. His father and mother laughed to see him, and Hector took the helmet from his head and laid it all gleaming upon the ground. Then he took his darling child, kissed him, and dangled him in his arms, praying over him to Zeus, the king of all the gods. “Mighty Zeus,” he said, "May one day people say that this child is even braver than his father, and a mightier warrior in battle, so that their praise gladdens the heart of his mother." Hector rode out before the gates of Troy. Achilles, seeing him, started to run with all his might towards Hector, ready to hurl his spear at his hated enemy. Hector jumped from his chariot and stood firm, waiting to meet Achilles, but secretly he thought to himself, “What if I were to lay down my shield and helmet, lean my spear against the wall and go straight up to noble Achilles? What if I were to promise to hand back Helen, who was the cause of all this war, and to let the Greeks take half of all the treasure in the city? Why argue with myself in this way? Were I to go up to him now, he would show me no mercy.”', "As he pondered, the swift-footed Achilles charged up to him as if he were Aries himself, the plumed God of battle. The bronze tip of Achilles' spear gleamed around him like the rays of the rising sun. Fear came over Hector and he turned and ran, while Achilles darted after him with his utmost speed. As a mountain hawk, the swiftest of birds, swoops down upon some trembling white dove - that is how Achilles made straight for Hector with all his might, while Hector fled around the city walls as fast as his legs could carry him.", 'Achilles chased Hector three times around the walls of Troy until at last Hector turned and fought. First Achilles threw his spear at Hector and missed. Hector then threw his spear at Achilles and hit his shield, but did not break it. They fell on each with clashing bronze swords, and Achilles, for he was the stronger hero, killed Hector. When they heard the sad news, all the women of Troy wept for the loss of their greatest hero, but none wept more than his wife, Andromache. Now that the finest hero of the Trojans was dead, the Greek army thought that they would soon win the war. King Priam of Troy greatly grieved the loss of his bravest son, and feared that the city would soon be defeated, but this is not how things turned out - well, not yet - for Apollo, the winged god of the silver bow, again decided to help the Trojans. One day, in the midst of battle, he came up to Prince Paris and said to him, “Hail Paris, Prince of Troy. Lift up your bow and fire an arrow into the Greek army. I will guide its point into Achilles and kill him.” When he heard this, Prince Paris replied, “Almighty Apollo, I will gladly do as you ask, but will I not just waste my arrow? Everyone knows that when Achilles was a baby, his mother dipped him in the River Styx that runs through the Underworld – and as a result, no weapon can wound him, for the waters of the River Styx make a man immortal.” Apollo replied, “Paris, you speak the truth, but the gods gave the great Achilles a choice – he could lead a short and glorious life, or a long and boring one. He chose glory and so his life must be short.” So Paris dipped his arrow in deadly poison and fired it into the air. It flew in an ark and its poisoned tip drove into Achilles’ heel - for when Achilles’ mother had dipped him in the river of the underworld, she had held him by his heel, and no water had touched it. Now Achilles fell from his chariot, and soon his great body lay on the ground, dead. And that is the story of how the Greeks and the Trojans fought for nine years without either side gaining victory. Many brave warriors died on either side, and many tears were shed over lost sons and lost friends. Soon I will tell you how the war ended with a cunning trick. And Bertie is reminding me not to forget to tell you about the Wooden Horse. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn217.txt b/text/sn217.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..03059cc0f863503f16e576ffa875afaf05cfaa93 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn217.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The war between the Greeks and the Trojans is in its tenth year. The Trojans rejoice when the Greek army departs leaving behind a giant wooden horse. The Trojans are divided - should they set fire to the statue or should they worship it?', "The story is mentioned in Homer's Odyssey, an epic poem about the Greek hero, Odysseus. It is told in more detail by the Roman poet, Virgil, in Book II of the Aeneid. ", 'The most famous line from Virgil\'s version has an anti-Greek feel to it: "I fear the Greeks, especially when they are bringing gifts." Little did they realise that the enemy army had not set sail for far away Greece. Instead, they had only taken their ships to the other side of the island, called Tenedos; and there they were lurking, out of sight, but still not far away. It was all a cunning trick thought up by the wiliest of the Greeks, the red haired Odysseus (ode-iss-see-us), who was never short of a plan. The Trojans saw that the Greeks had left behind a strange offering. It was a giant wooden horse with ribs made from the planks of fir trees. The people marvelled at the massive statue, but there were different opinions about what they should do with it. Some wise old men saw there was something not quite right about the horse, and advised that they should set fire to it straight away. Others warned that , the gods would be angry with them if they did not honour the statue. After all, the wooden horse was dedicated to grey-eyed Athena, the great goddess of wisdom, and nobody wanted to feel her wrath. The crowd was wavering, and a white-bearded old Priest spoke out above the murmur. “Fellow citizens. Whatever this strange horse may be, remember this: it is always wise to fear the Greeks, especially when they are bringing gifts. By the great god Poseidon, Lord of the Seas, and by everything that is sacred, let us not fall into this deadly trap, for that is what it surely is!” So saying, the old priest hurled a mighty spear at the horse, and it flew into the beast’s side and quivered, and the guts of the horse reverberated with an eerie hollow sound like a long, deep moan. Had the Trojans decided there and then to set fire to that horse of death, their lovely city would be standing to this day, and the descendants of King Priam would be living in peace and happiness. Just then, a Trojan patrol came upon the scene, and they brought with them a prisoner – a Greek called Sinon whom the army had left behind. “Now we will find out the truth!” said the Trojan guards, “Let’s poke this wretched Greek spy with our bronze spears until he tells us what this Greek gift is all about!” When he heard this, the poor prisoner cried out: “No, please! Don’t harm me. I’ll happily tell you all you want to know - for cruel, scheming Odysseus is no more a friend of mine than he is of you.” - and so the Trojans listened to what Sinon had to say, and they tried to fathom whether or not he spoke the truth. “Do you not think that the Greeks would have gladly given up this war before ten long years had passed? Let me tell you that many times they planned to leave their sufferings behind, as they have done now... But each time they prepared to sail away in their beaked black ships, the sea god Poseidon sent a terrible storm, and whipped up giant waves on the wine dark sea. They consulted a priest who told them the reason why the gods were inflicting such pain. You see, before he left his home in Argos, King Agamemnon, the great leader of men, waited an entire month for a wind to blow his ships to Troy. Eventually, he decided that the gods required a very special offering. And as usual, it was scheming Odysseus who thought up the plan. He sent for Agamemnon’s own daughter, his darling Iphigenia, and told her that she was to marry swift-footed Achilles. She came with great joy and gladness in her heart - for Achilles was the handsomest and bravest of the Greeks, but it was all a most dreadful trick. Instead of marrying Achilles at the altar on the cliffs high up above the sea, the priest sacrificed the lovely white-skinned young maiden to the sea god. Straight away, as the foul deed was done, the winds began to blow." “Now, ten long years later, as we were waiting for a wind to take us back home, Odysseus came up with another plan. “I know,” he said, “Let’s sacrifice the most useless of those among us. Nobody will miss Sinon. He has only ever criticised our plans, and called us leaders wicked and foolish. We once sacrificed an innocent young girl, now let’s give the gods the life of a man, and you’ll see, they will send us a fair wind to blow us swiftly home.” “But before Odysseus sent his guards to fetch me to my death, a rumour reached me of what he had said, and I ran into the woods and hid. So the Greeks came up with a second plan to appease the gods - and you see the result before you. This magnificent wooden horse is their offering, to say how sorry they are for all the needless death and destruction they have caused. Only bring it inside your walls before night falls because unless I am far wrong, there will be gold and treasure hidden deep inside the belly of that wooden horse.” Sinon one again called out: “You see, Trojans. Nothing but the truth I spoke! The Gods have rightly punished that wicked old priest for sending his spear into the wooden horse!" And now nobody dared to disagree. The Trojans brought ropes and placed wheels beneath the statue’s feet, so that they might pull the wooden horse through the gates of their magnificent city. As the ill-omened procession entered Troy, girls and boys danced around the horse singing holy chants. There was rejoicing in the city, and even the fortune teller, Casandra, did not dare open her lips though she foresaw the imminent doom - for the gods had given Casandra the gift of clear-sighted prophecy but had decreed that not one person would believe her. It was a clear moonlit night, and the Trojans carried on partying. Sinon the Greek had been set free, and nobody noticed that he lit a fire on the beach to signal to the army on the island of Tenedos that the wooden horse was within the walls of Troy. Next, he returned to the city and opened a secret door in the belly of the horse, and the Greek band of warriors, who had been hiding all that time within, let down a long rope- and they were led to the ground by wily Odysseus, who was the first of them to stand in the central square of magnificent Troy. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn218.txt b/text/sn218.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ae25eedda9769f9a5c8d61b7b1aa08d4b7e4eaa6 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn218.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Warning: It's a rather scary story, as it is all about a giant who likes nothing better than to eat people.", 'Odysseus, the craftiest man alive, is sailing home from the Trojan War. He and his men go ashore and find a cave with sheep, goats and cheese. They make themselves comfortable, only to find that the cave belongs to a one-eyed giant. Adapted by Bertie.', "In the Cyclops' Cave -", ' After the Greeks destroyed the fabulous city of Troy, they sailed home in their black ships, but not all of them received a warm welcome by any means. When King Agamemnon returned to his palace in Argos, his Queen Clytemnestra was far from pleased to see him. You see, before he left for Troy, King Agamemnon had sacrificed the life of their daughter so that the gods would send a fair wind to blow the Greek ships to Troy. Now, Clytemnestra hated her husband more than any man alive, but she pretended to be all smiles and kisses. While Agamemnon was relaxing his weary limbs in the warm, soapy water, Queen Clytemnestra crept up with a knife and killed him. On the island of Ithaca, a very different Queen, whose name was Penelope, was longing for the safe return of her husband. She had to wait quite a while though. His journey home took him ten long years, and all that time, Penelope was surrounded by men who wanted to marry her and steal her husband’s throne. She said to her suitors: “Gentlemen, I am spinning a magnificent bedspread for my wedding night. First let me finish making it, and then I will say which one of you I shall choose for my new husband." Every day Penelope worked at spinning her wheel, and every night she unpicked her threads, so that her work was never done. In this way she kept the men waiting, for she was sure that her husband was still alive and would return home safely to her arms. His name was Odysseus and he was famous all over the world for his quick mind and his cunning tricks. It was Odysseus who had come up with the idea of the wooden horse, which led to the destruction of Troy. Despite all his resourcefulness, he made slow progress home, for Poseidon the god of the seas was angry with him. The sea god sent howling winds to blow Odysseus off his course, and fierce storms to buffet his ships. This is the story of why he was so angry. Odysseus and his men sailed in their swift boats, their oars turning up white foam on the wine-dark sea. One evening they landed on a small island. He and his men hunted down goats for their dinner and that evening they ate roast meat on the beach. In the morning, Odysseus looked across the water to the mainland. He saw a wild country, with wooded mountains wrapped in mist. He decided to go and see what kind of people lived on that land. He told most of his men to wait behind, but he sailed across the water in his own boat with his crew of twenty brave men. On his back he took a skinful of fine wine that had been given to him by a priest of the sun god, Apollo. He thought it would make a good gift for his hosts, whoever they might be. When they got ashore, they scrambled up the steep cliffs and explored the woods. They saw nobody, but high up on the mountain they discovered a vast cave. Inside they found lambs and goat kids living in pens, and on the ground were piles of round cheeses and barrels full of milk. The men were all for stealing the cheese and a few lambs, and taking them back to the ship as fast as possible. However, Odysseus commanded them to sit down and wait for the owner of the cave, for he was sure he would be a rich man, and generous to travellers, according to the laws of the gods. So they waited until evening. In the meantime they lit a fire, and helped themselves to the cheese and milk. Towards sunset, they heard the tinkling of sheep bells, and they knew that the owner of the cave was driving his flocks back home. First the sheep came running into the cave, and then they were followed by a giant who had to stoop to enter through the door. He had one eye in the middle of his forehead, as do all those who belong to the race of the Cyclops. The Cyclops was astonished to find a band of men making themselves comfy in his cave and eating his cheese. He blinked with his one eye and asked in a terrible voice: “And who might you be?” Odysseus replied: “We are Greeks on our way back from the glorious war in Troy. Lord Zeus, the king of all the gods is our protector, and according to his laws you must treat us kindly, provide us with gifts, and send us safely on our way.” Instead of replying, the Cyclops went to the door of the cave and rolled a great stone into the opening so that the exit was blocked. Now the only light in the cave was from the fire lit by Odysseus and his men. “What care I for the laws of Zeus?” said the Cyclops. “I am strong, and besides, I am protected by Poseidon, the god of the seas and of earthquakes too, for he is my father.” Odysseus and his men retreated into the dark corners of the cave, but the Cyclops could see them in the dark with his one eye, for it glowed as bright as the fire. “Don’t talk to me of laws!” said the Cyclops. “I know your type. You are scoundrels who sail the wine-dark seas, raiding the people who live on their shores, killing and burning and plundering whatever takes your fancy. In fact, you are lawless pirates, that’s who you are!” With that he grabbed up two of the men and stuffed them into his mouth. “Mmm,” he said. "Nice dinner.” The Greeks threw up their hands and wailed: “Oh Lord Zeus save us from this horrific monster!” But the Cyclops just chuckled to himself and lay down to sleep by the fire. Odysseus drew his sword and was tempted to drive it straight into the heart of the giant while he slept, but then he thought: “If I kill the Cyclops, revenge will be sweet, but I will also be sending us to our doom, for we shall never remove that great boulder from the door of the cave. Not twenty horses could pull that rock away. We shall surely remain here till we die.” And so he and his men lay down and wept for their lost friends, while Odysseus wracked his brains for a better way to avenge them. In the morning, the Cyclops awoke and without haste ate two more of Odysseus’ men (for breakfast). Then he led his sheep out to the pasture, being careful to roll the rock into the mouth of the cave after him. The Cyclops had left behind him a great walking stick, of the sort that shepherds use to climb over the mountains. This gave Odysseus an idea. He ordered his men to look for sharp pieces of flint in the back of the cave. They took these and used them to sharpen the end of the stick into a cruel point. Next Odysseus told his men to pick up the stick and harden the point in the fire. The Cyclops tried a cup of the wine and he liked it. “For once you speak the truth, oh pirate,” he said. “This wine is indeed the finest I have ever tasted,” and he picked up the skin and guzzled some more wine down. “Tell me little man, he said, "what is your name?” "My name,” said Odysseus, “is Nobody. That is what I am called by my friends who love me, and my enemies who fear me.” “Well I am neither your friend, nor do I fear you,” said the Cyclops, "but I shall call you Nobody all the same, if that is how you like to be called. For in truth, you will be nobody soon when I’ve eaten you. But as a reward for your gift of fine wine, I shall not eat you till I have eaten all the others.” Before he went to bed he ate two more of Odysseus’ men, and finished the entire skin full of wine.. enough to put fifty men to sleep, and he fell into a deep slumber on the floor of the cave, snoring like a volcano. Now that the Cyclops was sound asleep, Odysseus ordered those of his men whom the Cyclops had not yet eaten to pick up the great stick that they had sharpened and hardened in the fire. They carried it over their shoulders, which was as big as the trunk of a young tree, and they drove it into the one and only eye of the Cyclops. The giant let out a terrible scream and raged around the cave calling for help. The other one-eyed giants who lived nearby came running to see what was the cause of this commotion. “What’s happened to you?” they called from outside the cave. “Nobody has hurt me,” wailed the Cyclops. “Nobody came into my cave and did this to me.” The other giants were baffled by the Cyclops’ cries, since he insisted that “nobody” was harming him. Much confused, they all went back to bed. In the morning, the Cyclops was careful to make sure that Odysseus and his men did not slip out of the cave. As each of his sheep went out, he felt it carefully to check that a man was not riding on its back, but he did not know that Odysseus had ordered his followers to tie the sheep together in threes, and that now they were clinging upside down between the sheep. The last animal to leave the cave was the old ram with curly horns. Odysseus was clinging to his underside. The Cyclops stroked the ram and said: “Cruel Nobody has blinded me, but I shall have my revenge. I shall find him tonight cowering in the corner of the cave, and I shall eat him for dinner, chewing very slowly.” When Odysseus and his men were clear of the cave, they started to scramble down the cliffs to the beach, taking some of the lambs with them. They pulled their boat out from where it was hidden in the brush wood, and started to row swiftly out to their friends on the island. Up above on the cliffs they saw the Cyclops, standing as tall as an oak tree and bellowing with rage: “Oh woe is me! Nobody has blinded me in my one eye, and now Nobody is escaping across the seas!” Odysseus stood up in the boat and called out to him: “Cruel Cyclops, you broke the laws of Zeus by eating my men and now you have your just desserts. Never again shall you see the light of day with that terrible eye of yours!” His men begged him to sit down in the boat and keep quiet, but he carried on calling out insults to his enemy. In reply the giant picked up a huge rock and hurled it down into the sea. It sent up a great wave that rocked the boat so that it almost turned over. When it was steady, hot-headed Odysseus stood up in the boat again, and despite the pleas of his men he called out: “Listen here you monstrous giant. If anyone asks you who did this to you, say it was swift-witted Odysseus, son of Laertes, sacker of cities. Yes, it was none other than Odysseus of rocky Ithaca who took the eye of the cruel, stupid Cyclops.” The Cylops sent another boulder flying into the sea and this sent up another great wave that almost sank the boat again. Now the Cyclops went down on his knees and prayed to Poseidon: “Oh great ruler of the seas, mighty lord who makes the earth quake and tremble. Dear Poseidon, my father… hear my prayer. I did not think to fear this swift-witted Odysseus, son of Laertes, sacker of cities. He was such a puny and feeble little man. Please, oh great sea god, grant me revenge. Send a terrible storm to pick up his ships like toys and fling them back down again so that they smash into smithereens and all his brave men are drowned. Or if it is not permitted to end his life before its time, then make sure he only returns home, after many long years of great suffering, and that he finds his land in turmoil, and the echoing halls of his palace full of greedy robbers devouring his wealth. Oh sea lord, hear the prayer of Polyphemus the Cyclops – for I am your loving son.” The sea god Poseidon heard the prayer of his son, the cruel Cyclops with one blind eye, and that is the reason why Odysseus spent ten long years buffeted by the cruel seas before he reached his home land. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn219.txt b/text/sn219.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..10be81ef7dc18175ea912a762cb06421a8ab2acb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn219.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Circe ranks as one of the greatest witches of mythology. A beautiful enchantress - she likes nothing better than to turn men into pigs. (Some have seen her as a bit of a feminist). It is only when the wily Odysseus lands on her island that she finally meets her match. Circe the Beautiful Witch - Now he and his men sailed on across the wine dark sea, until once again they caught sight of an island. They slipped their boat into a snug little harbour, and there they slept for two whole days. The following morning, Odysseus said they should explore the island and discover who lived there. At these words, his men grew afraid. They remembered the terrible Cyclops who had kept them prisoner in his cave, and had devoured some of their companions. Odysseus divided his men into two groups, so that if one should get into trouble, the other could come and help. He was leader of one group, and Lord Eurylochus (Yuri-Locus) was the leader of the other. They drew straws to see which group should go and explore first, and as Eurylochus drew the short straw, he and his men had to set out and explore the woods. After walking two or three hours, the men came to a clearing. They saw a little house surrounded by wild beasts – wolves, leopards, and lions. One of the leopards sprang towards Eurylochus. He thought that he was about to die, but instead of eating him, the leopard rubbed up against him like a cat and purred. The window of the house was open, and inside a woman was singing. Her voice was mysterious but very beautiful, and the men felt themselves being drawn towards the house, for they all longed to see if the woman was as wonderful as her voice. They walked past the fierce looking beasts, who in fact were really quite tame. Inside they were greeted by a tall and elegant woman, her black hair done up in braids – she did indeed look very lovely. Her name was Circe (Sir-see) and she invited the men to sit down at her table and drink some of her soup – they readily agreed. As they drank the soup, Eurylochus said: “When I drew the short straw I cursed my bad luck, but how wrong I was! Our hostess is not so terrible after all, eh men?” They did not realise that though she was beautiful, Circe was in fact a witch. She had slipped a magic potion into their soup, and when they had finished drinking it, she rapped the table with a magic wand and said: “Now you swine, be off to the pigsty where you belong.” The men looked up astonished. “Madam – Did you just call us pigs?” asked Eurylochus. But Circe just laughed in reply, for the nose of Eurylochus was already growing into a pink snout, and his hands were becoming hairy trotters. In fact, all his men were swiftly turning into pigs. They tried to weep and cry out, but all they could do was to snort and squeal. “Now do as I say,” cried Circe. “Pigs belong in the sty, not in my kitchen. Be off with you!” And off they trotted to their new home. When the men did not return to the ship, Odysseus grew worried, and he decided to go and search for them. He set out across the island in the direction of the smoke he had seen from the cottage. While he was walking through the woods, he met a young man – more of a boy, whose beard was still soft and downy on his face. “Stranger, what are you doing here?” asked the young man. “I’m going in search of my men who are lost,” said Odysseus. “No doubt they are guests of the lovely Circe. You won’t find them in her house, but outside in the pigsty. Beautiful though she is, she is really a witch and she turns men into beasts. If you step inside her house, she will turn you into a pig too.” “My men – turned into pigs!” exclaimed Odysseus. “Is this how you treat guests on this island?” The young man did not reply, but took a small plant out of his knapsack and handed it to Odysseus. Its stem was black and its flower was as white as milk. “Eat this,” he said. “It will make you safe against all magic tricks and potions. The name of this plant is molly. It is dangerous for mere mortals to pluck, for only gods can take it out of the ground safely.” When he spoke these words, Odysseus realised that this was no ordinary young man, but Hermes the messenger of the gods. He ate the molly plant and went on his way. Soon he came to the house in the woods that was guarded by wild beasts. Circe’s lovely singing voice drifted out through the window, and Odysseus walked boldly past the beasts and into the house. Inside he was greeted by the beautiful witch, who told him to sit down and try some of her soup. While she was heating it, she slipped some magic potion into the broth, for she intended to turn Odysseus into a pig like the others. She gave the soup to him, he drank it all down, and then she took out her wand and rapped the table with it. “Now be off with you to the sty, pig-face,” she cried. Odysseus did not turn into a pig, but instead leapt to his feet, drew his sword and rushed at Circe. She, terrified, let out a shriek and fell to his feet begging for mercy. “Please great Lord – do not take such offence. It was just my strange sense of humour. It comes from living alone for so long, here in the woods with nothing but wild beasts for company. It is many years since I have seen a strong brave man like you. Come, let me kiss you…” Odysseus let the beautiful witch kiss him, but all the time he was watching to see that she did not try any more of her tricks. She called her servant girls and commanded them to prepare a bath for their visitor. They brought hot and cold water and mixed the bath until it was just right. When Odysseus had bathed and rested, he found that they had prepared a delicious meal for him. “Come, why do you look so sad?” asked Circe. “Let us eat together and wash the food down with honeyed wine.” “How can a leader eat,” asked Odysseus, “when he knows that his companions are living outside in the muddy pigsty?” When he spoke these words, Circe knew that there was no use pretending any longer that she was anything other than a witch. She went out to the pigsty and rubbed a magic ointment onto the animals. Then she waved her wand and they began to change back into men, only younger and better looking than they were before. They began to weep, for what they had been through was truly terrible. When they had recovered, Odysseus went back to the ship to fetch the rest of his men. They were all united at Circe’s house and sat down to a wonderful feast of celebration. The Greeks stayed with the witch Circe for an entire month – and she didn’t try any more of her magic tricks on them. One morning Odysseus spoke to her: “Oh beautiful enchantress – too long have we enjoyed your hospitality. We must continue our journey to our home on the rocky island of Ithaca, but unfortunately we are completely lost. We do not know these seas. Can you direct us by the safest route?” Circe replied: “Lord Odysseus, if it were up to me, I would keep you here always – but I understand that you must be on your way to your home and your lovely wife, Queen Penelope. There is no safe route for you and your men to return home; for when you leave here, you must pass through a narrow passage between the rocks of Scylla and the whirlpool of Charybdis. Both are perilous – for Scylla is a many armed monster who yelps like a dog. If you sail close to her cliffs, she will reach down and grab some of your men and shove them into her mouth. But if you sail too close to the whirlpool of Charybdis, your entire boat will be sunk down to the bottom of the sea and all of you will drown. It is a terrible choice to make but you are a leader – so plot your course as you see best. Next, if the gods permit you to pass through that dire strait, you will come to the island of the Sun where the great Sun God, Lord Apollo, keeps his herd of sacred cows. Do as I say – steer clear of the island and do not land there. Nothing and nobody escapes the eyes of Apollo as he looks down from the sky. If you value your lives, avoid his island!” So Odysseus and his men said farewell to the lovely Circe and sailed on their way. After three days, just as she had foretold, they reached the narrow passage that she had described. Up on the cliffs they could hear the monster Scylla, yelping like a dog that has been left tied up for too long. As they drew nearer, they could hear the terrible gurgling sound of the whirlpool, Charybdis. “This is indeed a terrible choice”, thought Odysseus, “but is it a lesser evil to lose some of my men, than for all of us to drown? I must therefore chart my course closer to the cliffs than the whirlpool.” He did not tell his men about Scylla, in case they lost heart and put down their oars. All his men’s eyes were on the dreadful whirlpool, gurgling like a cauldron. The men rowed as hard they could, but as they passed beneath Scylla, she reached down to the ship. Odysseus fought her with his spear, desperately trying to stab at her arms, but he could not prevent her from snatching up six of his men. The others rowed on, crying for their companions. Once they passed through the strait, they saw the island of the Sun, just as Circe had predicted. “Thank heavens for land!” cried the men. Odysseus tried to tell them it was no good. They must not land, but sail on – for Circe had warned him of terrible danger should they set foot on the island belonging to the great Sun God, Lord Apollo. “Are you a slave driver?” cried out Lord Eurylochus. “In your rush to reach home, you deny us all rest. We are still grieving for our six lost companions. You cannot order us to sail on. We will surely die of sadness and exhaustion.” Seeing that the men meant rebellion, Odysseus allowed the ship to land with great misgiving in his heart. They found that the island was covered in green fields, and that fat cattle were grazing. The men waited for Odysseus to fall asleep and then killed two cows and ate roast meat on the beach. When the sun rose in the morning, bright Apollo saw what they had done, and said to Zeus, who is Lord of all the gods: “Great Lord – I am wronged. Those rascals and ruffians who crew the ship of that tricky Greek, Odysseus, have killed the sacred cattle that bring joy to my heart. If you will not punish them, I shall go down to the land of the dead and light up the gloomy underworld. No more shall I shine in the skies above the world.” When Zeus heard these words he replied: “It is indeed a crime to take what rightly belongs the gods. When these men set sail tomorrow, I shall hit their boat with a burning thunderbolt.” The next day, Odysseus told his men to set sail. When they were out at sea, the sun disappeared behind a black cloud. The dark skies filled with lightening and an electric flash shot down from the hand of Lord Zeus and hit their boat, ripping it into two. All the men fell into the raging sea. Odysseus clung for his life to the broken mast of the ship, and somehow survived the storm. The sun shone once again on the now calm waters, and Odysseus saw land. Using his last strength, he swam into the shore and staggered onto the beach, where he fell down, exhausted. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn22.txt b/text/sn22.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..cf600dcdb1a8784b85789377f59a7d525642ad5b --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn22.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Proofread by Claire Deakin & Jana Elizabeth. So he swam up behind Bertie and said: “Woooooooo!” But Bertie didn’t shriek and shake with fright like he was supposed to do. In fact he didn’t do anything at all. So Tim again said: "Woooooooo!" Only louder. Bertie still didn’t move, and so Tim said: “Bertie why aren’t you frightened when I come up behind you and say woooooo?” Bertie opened his eyes. He had been dozing after a big lunch of flies and green slime. “Because, little Tim, if you want to truly frighten somebody, you need to go more like this: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Tim was so scared that he swam around the pond six times backwards. He was still shaking when he said: "Ooh, Bertie, that was so very scary. Just like a real ghost. In fact, I wanted to ask you - do ghosts really truly-wooly exist?" “Oh yes,” said Bertie. “I know because once I was haunted by a ghost.” When he said that, Tim begged Bertie to tell the story of how he was haunted by a ghost. It happened one Halloween when Bertie was still a small prince and lived in the palace. The royal family was eating pumpkin soup for dinner when Prince Harry, who was Bertie’s annoying little brother, said: “Bertie I bet you are scared of ghosts.” Bertie replied: “Don’t annoy me when I’m eating.” But Harry went on: “In fact, I bet you are far too scaredy to sleep in the haunted room tonight.” The haunted room was in the north tower, and legend held that anyone who slept there on Halloween would meet the ghost of King George, who had lived 400 years ago, and had been murdered by his wicked stepmother. The last person who had slept in that room had been Bertie’s great-uncle Charles, and he had gone stark raving mad. For sure, Bertie didn’t want to sleep in the haunted room. Equally he didn’t want to admit that he was frightened, however. So he pretended not to be listening. But Harry wouldn’t stop. He started to chant: “Scaredy-cat, scaredy, scaredy, scaredy cat!” The royal nanny told Harry to pipe down, but Bertie knew that he would have no princely honour until he dared to sleep in the haunted room. So after dinner he took his pillow, his duvet and his soft toy giraffe over to the north tower and settled in for the night. I don’t know if you have ever tried to stay the night in a haunted room, but it isn’t easy to get off to sleep. Every time the wind blows and the trees rustle outside your window you feel, well, just a bit like you are about to meet a ghost. If you hear any creaking floorboards, that’s it... You are really frightened. So Bertie didn’t sleep. He sat up in bed and waited for the ghost of King George. Around midnight, he turned up. At first Bertie didn’t see him. He just heard him laugh. But it wasn’t a scary laugh. It was more deep and jolly like: “Ho ho ho.” Then the king appeared on the end of Bertie’s bed and said: “Hey, you heard this one? What do you call a witch who lives on the beach? A sandwich of course. Ha ha.” Bertie laughed too, because the ghost was much funnier than he had been expecting. “And how about this?” Went on the king. “What do you get when you cross a black cat with a lemon?” “I don’t know,” admitted Bertie. “A sour-puss! HA! Oh dear. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came to sleep here tonight. I haven’t shared a good joke with anyone in centuries.” After that, Bertie and the ghost sat up and told each other jokes and stories until it was almost dawn. They were both laughing so much that Harry could hear them, and his room was in a different tower all together. When the sky was just starting to get light the ghost said: "Well I must be off now. But it would be so nice to spend a little more time having fun. I say, will you let me haunt you?” Bertie said that he was awfully sorry, but he didn’t think it would do for a prince to be haunted. When he heard this, the ghost looked so awfully sad. In fact, he might have cried, only ghosts can’t cry. Bertie felt really really mean, and so he said: “Well alright then. I’ll let you haunt me. But you must promise not to frighten anyone. Except for my pesky brother Harry of course… And the royal nanny. It might be quite fun for her to see a ghost.” And that’s how Bertie became haunted by the ghost of King George. Wherever Bertie went, the ghost went too. At first it was quite fun. When Harry tried to steal Bertie’s chocolate biscuits, the ghost slammed the tin shut on his fingers and made him go: “ye-ouch!” And Harry was completely puzzled about how it had happened, because only Bertie could see the ghost. Similarly, when the royal nanny went to the hairdressers, the ghost put green dye in the shampoo so that she came home looking like she had slime growing on her head. And when Bertie was playing in goal for the palace soccer team, the ghost helped him save a penalty, and all the team’s supporters cheered Bertie to the sky. But being haunted wasn’t all good. No, not by any means... Another time, Prince Boris, who is bigger than Bertie and a bit of a bully, was giving Bertie some bother in the school playground. Bertie was trying to talk his way out of the situation, but the ghost came along and biffed Boris on the nose. Bertie and he had to go and see the headmaster and explain that it wasn’t him who had biffed Boris, but somebody else, and he couldn’t say who because that would be telling. Unfortunately, the ghost had rather a silly sense of humour. Sometimes in class he would blow a raspberry at the teacher and Bertie would get the blame. He also thought it was funny to put a whoopie cushion on the Queen Mother’s chair. He also liked splashing in puddles and getting Bertie’s school uniform all wet and muddy. None of these things were so very bad, though Bertie was getting a little bit bored of the ghost and its tricks - and he was feeling rather tired because the ghost stayed up all night and told jokes. Then one day, the ghost went too far. It happened like this... The king who was Bertie’s father, wasn’t very strict in general, but he did have one rule. He was absolutely forbidden to touch his musket. His musket was like a very fancy gun, with gold plating and curly engravings. It hung above the fireplace in his study, and there it stayed. That was the rule. The ghost didn’t obey rules because he didn’t have to. He could do anything he liked, and nobody except Bertie would know that it was him who had done it. One evening the ghost went through the wall into the king’s study and took the musket and brought it up to the top of the north tower. From there he had a good view of the palace gardens, and he started to use the musket to shoot the king’s vegetables. Splat went a prize pumpkin. Plop went one tomato after the other, and, “ha ha ha!” Went the ghost. The Queen Mother’s poodle came into the garden, and the ghost shot her too. Fortunately he missed, but he almost scared the life out of her. The king came outside to see what the noise was about, and all he could see was the musket pointing out of the haunted room in the North Tower. The only person who ever dared to go up there was Bertie. Bertie was in trouble. Big trouble. He tried to explain that it was the ghost who had been shooting with the musket, but nobody would believe him. The king stopped his pocket money and banned him from watching TV for a whole month. That really was it. Bertie was furious. He told the ghost that he couldn’t haunt him anymore because he was causing too much trouble. But the ghost just laughed and said that he liked haunting Bertie, and Bertie could like it or lump it. “Besides, it’s lonely up there in the tower not seeing a soul for hundreds of years on end. I’m having far too much fun to go back to that afterlife.” Bertie was very sad and very fed up. He thought and thought about who could help him out of his predicament, and the only person he could think of was the palace librarian. The librarian read ever so many books and knew all about the history of the palace and the royal family. Perhaps he would know how to deal with the the ghost of King George. Or perhaps he would think that Bertie had gone nuts. It all depended on whether or not he believed in ghosts. Fortunately, he did. “Why of course I believe in ghosts,” he replied when Bertie asked. “In fact, I was talking to one only the other day.” “Not King George by any chance?” Asked Bertie. “No, not that silly old fool,” said the librarian. As he was saying that, the ghost of King George was writing: “Look behind you!” with a marker pen on the wall of the library. “I met this particular ghost when I was visiting a library in a castle just north of here. Her name was Princess Beth and she was betrothed to King George, but his wicked stepmother murdered him before the wedding could take place. Sad story really. She’s still pining for her long lost lover after all these centuries, and she’s so terribly lonely.” “I don’t suppose,”said Bertie, “that we could send our King George to live with Princess Beth in her castle.” The librarian shook his head. It was only possible for a ghost to move about if it haunted someone, and nobody would want to be haunted by a ghost as mischievous as King George. But Bertie was haunted by him already, and so the next day he took a royal train to the north of the country to visit the castle of Princess Beth - and because King George was haunting Bertie, he had to go with him. And that’s the story of how the ghost of King George was reunited with his long lost lover, Princess Beth, and from then on they lived together in the castle in the north, and were happy playing games and telling each other jokes, and Bertie returned home, unhaunted, and free from ghostly bother. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn220.txt b/text/sn220.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d849eb1bd242c1a289f2488f70b1b0cf5e0d2cc0 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn220.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio This story is full of both exciting fights and touching moments of recognition - none more so than when the faithful dog Argos, lying on dung heap, senses his master. We round off the tale with some moving verses from Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson. Homecoming of Odysseus After the war ended, not all the Greeks enjoyed a pleasant homecoming. King Agamemnon went home to his Queen, the evil Clytemnestra – and while he was relaxing in his bath, she plunged a dagger into him. The cleverest of the Greeks, the wily, red-headed Odysseus spent ten more years sailing home to his lovely Queen Penelope. When we last left Odysseus, his ship had been wrecked by a storm. All his crew were drowned, but he was washed ashore, half dead. He managed to crawl to some bushes by the mouth of the river, and there he fell into a deep sleep. The island was ruled by wealthy, seafaring people. It just so happened that the King’s daughter, the lovely Nausicaa, had come down to the river with her maids. They were all playing with a ball, and it splashed into a swirling pool of the river. The maids shrieked with laughter, and their cries awoke the sleeping warrior. He clambered out of the bushes, covering his naked, sea-tossed body with leafy branches. The servant girls let out squeals when they saw him – but Princess Nausicaa calmly asked him who he was and how he came to be there. The stranger replied, “Princess, your beauty is so great – are you a goddess or a mere mortal? In either case, I stand here at your mercy. My ship was wrecked in the great storm last night. My crew are drowned and I have lost everything.” For once, the long suffering Odysseus was in luck. The people of the island respected all who risked their lives at sea. The princess led the stranger to her father. When the king learned that their guest was Lord Odysseus on his way home from Troy, he prepared a great feast in his honour. He then ordered a ship to be made ready to take him home - he filled a sea chest for him with rich gifts: sumptuous robes, a golden cauldron, and a handful of jewels. The ship carried Odysseus home to his rocky kingdom on the island of Ithaca. After 20 years away, he was far from certain what sort of welcome he would receive and so he asked to be put on shore in a quiet harbour, away from the town. There he hid his sea chest in a secret cave and wrapped himself in beggar’s rags. Wearing this disguise, he climbed up a rough path. He came to the part of the island where pigs were kept. As he approached the hut of the pigs’ keeper, some fierce dogs rushed out at him. They were about to tear at his limbs – a fine welcome home – but just in time the keeper appeared and called them off. “You should be more careful,” he scolded, “for the gods would be angry with me if my dogs ripped apart an innocent stranger – if you are, indeed, an innocent stranger.” Odysseus recognised the man as his old servant, Eumaeus. He was a good man, and he honoured the Greek tradition of giving food and shelter to strangers. In fact, in the Greek language there was just one word for both stranger and guest – because all strangers should be honoured as guests . That night the two men sat up talking. Eumaeus explained that his master was King Odysseus who had been away for twenty long years, and was almost certainly dead by now, but his loyal wife Queen Penelope would not believe it. Now his palace was full of scoundrels who ate his food and drank his wine. They demanded that Penelope pick one of them to marry but she refused. She told them that she could not marry until she had finished sewing her wedding dress. She worked all day and every night she unpicked her work, so that it was never done. Her son, Prince Telemachus, had taken a ship and gone in search of his father – but he had found no news. He was expected back any day now. The suitors of Penelope had set up a watch down at the harbour, and they planned to ambush and murder him on the road to the palace. Odysseus listened to all this but did not say who he really was. The next morning, the swineherd pointed him on the road to the town. Odysseus set out and on his way he met his son, Prince Telemachus, who was smart enough to take a back route to avoid an ambush. The two men walked along – a tramp and a prince side by side. Athene, the wise goddess, made Odysseus appear as his true self; younger, stronger, and richly dressed -Telemachus was amazed. He realised that this sudden transformation must be the work of a god or goddess – and he understood that the man standing before him was his father who had left him as a baby. After they had embraced each other for a long time, they hatched a plan... Telemachus would return to the palace alone, and Odysseus would follow on, dressed as a beggar and accompanied by the loyal swineherd. No matter how many insults his wife’s suitors flung at him, they would keep their tempers till the moment was ripe for revenge. Later that day, Odysseus and the swineherd approached the town. On the way they were met by a man they both knew, a servant who kept the goats. When he saw the two shabbily dressed men he called out, ”Well look what we have here! One piece of filth sticking to another piece of filth. Old pig keeper, what are you taking that garbage to the palace for? All he’ll get there is a sound beating.” Odysseus was sorely tempted to batter the man, but he knew he must keep his temper for now, so he and the loyal swineherd walked past. Not far from the town there was a pile of dung and rubbish. Lying on top of it was a sad old dog who had been cast out of the palace by the suitors. The dog’s name was Argos, and in his prime he had been a fine hunting hound, the favourite of Odysseus. Now he was all but broken, but the moment that Odysseus came near he sensed his master’s scent. He lifted his muzzle from the dung heap and thumped his tail. Odysseus saw him, and went over to pat his faithful animal on the head. Argos licked his master’s hand and was happy for the first time in many years. A few moments later he breathed his last. Inside the palace, they found the suitors feasting. Odysseus went round the tables, begging for food. Some of the suitors threw him some scraps, but their leader was more cruel. He turned to the swineherd and said, “Keeper of Pigs, why do you drag this old corpse into our dining room? Don’t we have enough beggars and pests in this town? Now kindly throw him out before I do much worse to him.” Eumaeus, the swineherd, replied, “My lord Odysseus was always kind and respectful to old soldiers who were down on their luck. It is his food and wine that you are helping yourself to – and he would gladly spare a few morsels.” At this the leader of the suitors flew into a rage. “Fine words, swineherd,” he cried, “but this is what I think of your advice!” With that, he picked up a chair and flung it at Odysseus. It hit him on the shoulder. All the suitors burst out into laughter and started to pelt Odysseus and the swineherd with food. They both kept their cool, and retreated further into the palace. Eumaeus found the old nurse who had looked after Odysseus as a baby. He said that the stranger was weary from tramping, and asked if she would bathe his feet. She gladly fetched hot water and began to do as she was asked. As she washed him, she could not help but notice a scar on the stranger’s leg. Odysseus had gone out hunting as a young man, and the boar had charged at him and dug its tusk into his leg. She recognised the scar at once. “My Lord,” she said. “You are home at last. Let me rush to your poor Queen and let her know this wonderful news.” “Hold still,” said Odysseus. “One of the servants might hear her rejoicing and my secret will be out. Don’t breathe a word to a soul, not even to fair Penelope.” The good old nurse swore that she would keep her master’s secret. As he walked back along the corridor, a maid spat at him and told him to get out of the palace with his begging bowl. That evening, as Odysseus was sitting on the porch of the palace, along came a real beggar, Irus, and he was a complete scoundrel – a cheat and a sneak thief. He was a favourite of the suitors who recognised him as a kindred spirit. Irus was not pleased to see a rival beggar around the palace, competing with him for scraps. “Get up and get out, you filthy swine!” he said. “Make yourself scarce before I box you around the ears.” “What’s gotten into you?” replied Odysseus. “I’ve done you no harm. You’d better keep your mouth shut or you’ll be the one on the wrong end of a beating.” “Are you threatening me old man?” said Irus. “Well stand up so I can punch your lights out.” One of the suitors overhead the two old tramps quarrelling and thought it was hilarious. He ordered them both inside so that the suitors could enjoy the spectacle of a beggar’s boxing match. A space was cleared in the middle of the dining hall. The suitors placed bets on which tramp would knock the other out first. Irus was the clear favourite to win, but then the two men stripped down for the fight. Odysseus’ muscles glistened and all could see that he was built like an ox. Irus began to tremble with fear – but it was too late. The leader of the suitors whose name was Antinous swiftly changed his wager to back the newcomer. He called out to Irus, “You’ve filled your fat belly with scraps from our table, old goat that you are, but now it seems you’re going to get what’s coming to you.” Odysseus hit Irus with a glancing blow and he was out cold. The servants dragged him out by his feet and threw him on the dung heap beside the corpse of old Argos. The suitors gave Odysseus his reward for his victory: scraps of meat from their plates. Antinous said to Odysseus, “That was a good hit from an old swine like you, but don’t get any ideas or become above yourself, or you’ll soon be out on your ear.” Later that night, Odysseus and Prince Telemachus held a secret conference. This is what Odysseus told his son to do. He must tell his mother to call the suitors together and tell them that she had made up her mind to hold an archery contest. She would marry the man who could string her husband’s old bow and shoot the straightest arrow from it. Penelope agreed to this idea because she knew that the only man who was strong enough to string her husband’s bow was her husband himself. She thought the contest was a cunning way to show the suitors that not a single one among them was the equal of her true husband. The next morning the suitors gathered in the dining hall for the contest. They set up a target at the end of the room, and Telemachus handed his father’s great bow to the first to try his aim - but the suitor could not even bend the bow, let alone fire it. The others all laughed at him for being so feeble, but not for long, for none of them had the strength to string the bow. At last their leader, Antinous, took it in his hands, and though he could bend it just a bit, he was far from able to hook the string over its end. “Fair Penelope must be laughing up in her chamber,” he said. “A fine trick this is of hers, for there’s no man alive who could string this bow.” Then Odysseus said, “I was once handy with a bow and arrow. I pray let me try my hand.” The suitors all laughed at the tramp’s boast, but Antinous said, “Certainly. If you string the bow for me I will reward you with gold. If not, I shall beat you within an inch of your useless old life.” At this, Odysseus picked up the bow and tried it for weight, balancing it in his hand. The suitors mocked him for this display. “Thinks he’s an expert, he does,” they jeered. Then he placed the bow upright on the ground. He leaned into it, and hooked the string over the end with ease. At first the suitors were astounded, and then they realised that the beggar was the king whose palace and hospitality they had been abusing, and whose wife they had been wooing. The realisation came too late to save their skins, for Odysseus was soon letting arrows fly from the bow, picking them off one by one. One of the suitors who was better mannered than the others tried to bargain with the king. He swore that if he would spare their lives they would pay him back three times over for what they had taken. Odysseus replied that if they wanted to save their lives they had better fight. Several men charged at him with their swords, but Odysseus was swift at letting the arrows fly. And so Odysseus and his son, Telemachus, dealt with all the suitors. At the end of the battle not one was left alive. Now Odysseus told his son to fetch Penelope, but when Penelope saw her husband she could not be sure after so many years that it was really him. “Dearest Queen, how can you be so hard hearted when you see your husband here before you after twenty long years?” pleaded Odysseus. Penelope still was not sure whether or not to believe her own eyes so she decided to test him. She called the old nurse and told her to move the bed out of their room and prepare it for the stranger in the next room along the corridor. “How can that be?” asked Odysseus. “If it is my bed then nobody could move it for I made it myself, and one of its pillars is the olive tree that grew on this spot where I built the bedroom with my own hands.” Then Penelope knew that the man before her truly was her husband, Lord Odysseus, for whom she had waited twenty long years. She threw her arms around him and wept for joy. And that’s the story over the homecoming of Odysseus. It is also the end of the tales from the Trojan war as told by the Greek bard, Homer, who wrote two epic poems called the Iliad and the Odyssey. Although our hero was overjoyed to be home, that was not the end of his travels - for Odysseus always longed to go and see new places, and after some time he again set out. The English Poet Lord Alfred Tennyson (in a poem called Ulysses – another name for Odysseus) wrote a few lines about his unquenchable urge to sail the seas: \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn221.txt b/text/sn221.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..cadd3e34ccdfb195a0dac8bb1185b2b7b36a128a --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn221.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio of the Minotaur A long time ago - almost before history began - King Minos ruled the lovely island of Crete. The father of Minos was none other than Zeus, lord of all the gods, and he made sure that his son’s wealth and power only grew and grew. Minos built a navy, and his ships sailed far and wide, bringing back goods, taxes, and something even more important than those; knowledge. For instance, when Minos wanted to build a palace that would strike awe and wonder into all who laid eyes on it, he asked his sea captain, "Of all the palaces you have seen, on all your travels over the seas, which was the most magnificent?" To which the sea captain replied, "Your Majesty, the King of Athens\' Palace of Aegeus surpasses all others for its beauty and grace. It was designed by Deadalus, and the Athenians boast that he is the most brilliant architect who has ever lived." When he heard this, King Minos ordered the sea captain to fetch Deadalus to Crete. The sea captain sailed to Athens and told King Aegeus that Minos had need of his chief architect and as Minos was the most powerful leader of those times, King Aegeus could not deny him his wish. So Daedalus brought his knowledge and great skill to Crete and there he designed a wonderful palace for Minos. It was built on three floors, which was very high for buildings of those days, and the bathrooms and kitchens had plumbing that was far ahead of their times. Everywhere you went inside, you saw the double headed axe of King Minos which was his symbol of power. Upstairs, the walls were covered with bright pictures of dances and festivities. On them, you could see the young men and women of Crete leaping over the horns of bulls. It is a dangerous sport indeed, but the Cretans loved to show off their skill and bravery. The happiness of Minos was almost complete – there was but one sadness in his life. His wife gave birth to a child that was strange and unnatural. Although its face was human, it walked on four feet with hooves. Horns came out of his head, and in time it grew into a terrible monster – half man, half bull. When it bellowed the whole land of Crete shook, the walls of the palace trembled, and there were storms at sea. The people gossiped about this strange child of the King, whom they called the Minotaur. Minos wanted to have it killed, but he thought the gods would be angry with him if he killed his own son. Instead, he ordered Daedalus to build a maze, known as a labyrinth, where the Minotaur could live out of sight and out of mind. Daedalus built a Labyrinth underground that was so intricate and cunning in its design, that even he himself had trouble finding the way out. The Minotaur agreed to live in the labyrinth, but he demanded human beings to be sent into his maze at regular intervals, otherwise he would rage with hunger, even until the walls of the palace fell down. And so Minos ordered the kings of the nearby lands to send ships full of young people to sacrifice to the Minotaur. Every ninth year it was the turn of Athens to send its human tribute to Crete. Twice, King Aegeus agreed to this – for he was still afraid of Minos and the power of his navy – but on the third occasion his son, Prince Theseus said to him, "Father, this time let me sail to Crete, and I shall kill the Minotaur and end this misery for our people." Aegeus was very reluctant to send his beloved son to chance his life against the Minotaur, but as he could see no other way out of the terrible situation for his people, he agreed. It was decided that the ship of Theseus would carry two sets of sails. If the mission was successful, it would return to Athens under white sails, but if Theseus was killed by the Minotaur, it would sail back under black sails. That way, the people of Athens would receive the news of the outcome all the sooner. Prince Theseus sailed to Crete and stayed with King Minos in his magnificent palace. There, on occasion, he caught sight of Princess Ariadne - the lovely daughter of King Minos. When Ariadne saw Theseus she felt great pity for him. "Certainly, he looks very nice," she thought, "But what a shame that his life is about to end so soon and so terribly! Even if he succeeds in killing the Minotaur, he will never find his way out of the dark and winding labyrinth." When Theseus saw Ariadne he thought, "Surely the King’s own daughter knows some of his secrets. If only she could be persuaded to help me, I might stand a better chance of killing the Minotaur and escaping from the labyrinth with my life." One day, when for a very short time Theseus found himself alone with Ariadne, he went down on his knees and begged her for any help that she could give him. Ariadne promised to do what she could and that evening she asked the advice of Daedalus, for if anyone knew the way out of the maze, it would surely be its architect. Daedalus too wanted to help Theseus for they were both from the City of Athens, and so he gave Ariadne his secret plan of the labyrinth – but she was dismayed when she examined it and saw the numerous twists and turns in the underground passageways. Even with a map it would be impossible to find one’s way through such a maze. Later on she found Theseus walking alone in the gardens and she gave him the map. When he unfurled the map and saw its complexity he said, "Oh Princess, I trust in my courage and my skill with my spear and my sword, but I doubt that I shall ever find my way out of a maze such as this." However, Ariadne had thought of a second way to help Theseus; she gave him a ball of thread, and told him to unwind it as he went through the dark labyrinth. On the way back he should gather the wool up, and follow it back to the daylight. Theseus was pleased with the plan, and he kissed the hand of the princess, thanking her for all her help. The next day he said to King Minos, "Your Majesty, I have been honoured to be your guest for one whole week. Now I am ready to complete my mission, and meet either death or glory." King Minos would have been happy for the foreign prince to rid him of the Minotaur, but he thought he stood little chance. He led Theseus to the entrance of the labyrinth and wished him goodbye - for he never expected to see him again. Theseus ventured into the maze, and a little way in he tied one end of the ball of thread to a beam. He went further and soon he was in complete darkness. He had to feel his way along the walls, and around the twists and turns of the labyrinth. All the while he unwound the ball of wool that Ariadne had given him. Somewhere deep inside, the bull was stamping and snorting, impatient to meet its latest sacrifice. At last, deep within, Theseus could hear that the Minotaur was close by. He found a passageway that led to a dead end, as many of them did, but what made this one different was that there was a sudden turning just before the end. He had seen this passage on the map, and it was just the place he was looking for. Theseus hid himself around this final twist and called out to the Minotaur. It heard him and came charging down the passage, but it could not slow down before the turning and charged straight into the wall. While it was still stunned from the impact Theseus thrust his spear into the beast’s neck and killed it, though it did not give up its life before letting out a terrible bellow. The walls of the palace shook and trembled, and King Minos said, "Thank Zeus! It seems that Prince Theseus has rid us of the terrible monster - but he will never find his way out of the labyrinth and will surely die there." Theseus began to gather up the ball of thread until at last he reached the exit where Ariadne was eagerly waiting for him. "Princess, how can I thank you?" said Theseus, "For without your help I would never have found my way out of that terrible place." Ariadne replied, "Take me back to Athens with you, and I shall be your bride." Now these were far from the words that Theseus had been hoping to hear. For although Ariadne was extremely beautiful, he was due to marry a different princess on his return to Athens. However, he could not quite find the words to explain this to Ariadne, and so he replied in haste, "Come, we must leave right away before your father discovers the truth." Leading her by the hand, he led her down to his ship that was ready and waiting. They set sail immediately for Athens, and in her heart Ariadne was overjoyed because she would soon marry her hero - or so she believed - but he had different plans. On the way back, they stopped at the island of Naxos to gather supplies. Ariadne walked to the end of the beach, paddling in the waves, and Theseus told the sea captain to set sail as fast as he could. Poor Ariadne was marooned on the island of Naxos abandoned by her faithless lover. She stood high up on the cliffs and watched his sail disappear over the horizon. As she shed bitter tears, Bacchus, the god of wine, heard her weeping and decided to cheer her up as best as he could. He led his procession to her; wild animals and dancing servants banging on drums and sounding trumpets. He took her crown from her head, and cast it up into the sky. It soared up to the heavens and its jewels turned into stars and formed a constellation in the shape of a crown. As Theseus sailed away, he was laughing with the sea captain about the trick they had played. Poseidon, the god of the seas, heard them and was angry with Theseus for his betrayal of the princess - he sent a storm to toss his ship. The white sales were ripped and torn and fell into the raging seas. The ship survived the storm, but the captain was forced to repair his ship and use the second set of sails – the black ones which were meant to signal failure. As they approached Athens, they were spotted by fishermen who raced back home to report the dreaded news. The ship of Theseus, the hope of Athens, was returning under black sails. When this news reached the ears of the old king he ordered his chariot to take him down to the harbour to see the ship return. When he saw that it was indeed returning under black sails, he was filled with uncontrollable grief and threw himself from the top of the harbour tower and into the sea where he drowned. And that was not quite the end of the tale, because there is another story about what happened to Daedalus, the architect of the famous Labyrinth. Bertie says it’s a much shorter story, but it’s a good one - with a moral to it. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn222.txt b/text/sn222.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..10b2fd718ed8f0afa28982c86022d18140b2e9f5 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn222.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +I’ve told you before about the half man-half half-bull called the Minotaur. This strange and terrible beast lived in a deep, dark Labyrinth on the island of Crete. Well, you may remember that the Labyrinth was created by the cunning and ingenious mind of Daedalus. Daedalus was a brilliant architect and inventor – in fact, he was so brilliant that King Minos of Crete did not want to let him go back to his home in Athens. Instead, he kept him as a prisoner. Daedalus lived with his son Icarus in a tower of the palace, and King Minos made him invent weapons of war that would make his army and navy even more powerful than they already were. Although Daedalus and Icarus had every comfort they could ask for, the father longed to return home to Athens. His son hardly remembered his home city, but he too wanted to leave because he longed to run and play in the open, rather than live in a tower all day. Daedalus looked out over the waves of the Mediterranean Sea, and he realised that even if they could manage to slip out of the tower and find a little boat, they wouldn’t be able to sail very far before they were spotted and caught by one of the ships of King Minos’ navy. He thought for a long time about the best way to escape, and finally he came up with a plan, and this is what he did... He told King Minos that he needed feathers and wax for a new invention that he was working on. When these were brought to him, he took them up onto the roof of the tower. Here he arranged them into four lines, starting with the smallest feathers, and followed those with the longer ones so that they formed gentle curves. He then began to stick the feathers together with thread in the middle and wax at the base. While he was working, Icarus played with the wax, squashing it between his finger and thumb, and when the feathers blew away in the breeze he ran after them and caught them. When Daedalus had finished, he showed Icarus his work. He had made the feathers into two pairs of wings. He fastened the larger pair to his arms, and began to flap them until his feet took off from the floor and he began to hover in mid air. Icarus laughed with delight and could not wait to try out the smaller pair of wings. Over the next few days, father and son both practised with them until little Icarus was almost as good at flying as his father was. Then one morning Daedalus said to Icarus, "Now Son, we are ready to leave this island for good. We shall fly home to Athens. Although you are now quite good at flying, you must not forget that it can be very dangerous. Listen to my instructions and be sure to follow them to the letter. At all times follow me, for I will find the way home. Do not veer off on a different flight path, or you will soon be lost. Do not fly too low or your wings will fill with moisture from the waves, and if they will become too heavy you will sink down. Nor should you fly too high, or the sun will heat the wax and your wings will fall apart. Have you understood all that I have said?" Little Icarus nodded to show his father that he had understood. Then Daedalus led his son up onto the battlements of the tower, and like a bird leading her fledglings from the nest for the first time, he jumped into mid air and flapped his wings, Icarus followed soon after. If a fisherman or a shepherd had looked up just then, he would have seen two very unusual birds hovering above the waves. No doubt he would have thought that they had caught sight of two winged gods. Who could have believed that a mortal father and son had mastered the art of flight? Over the seas they sailed, and at first Icarus felt frightened for he had never ventured very far in his practice flights, but soon he found that he was really good at flying. In fact, it was the most tremendous fun you could ever have. He began to swoop up and down with the sea gulls. Wow! It was amazing! His father turned round and called, "Icarus, take care!" and for a while after that Icarus obeyed his father, and flapped along behind him. But then his wings caught a warm air current, and he found that he could soar along and upwards almost without any effort. This was the life! He was floating ever so high above the waves and the ships down below were like tiny little specks. His father called up to him, “Icarus, remember what I told you. Come down right now!” Icarus could not hear him however, and his father could not catch up with him. Icarus was far too close to the sun, and soon the wax that held the feathers together began to melt. Gradually his wings began to lose their shape, and some of the feathers even began to fall off. Icarus flapped his arms frantically, but it was too late. He had lost the power of flight and down he plunged into the sea. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn223.txt b/text/sn223.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..4ad6b8926622111fbe3872b9a9b1c2be665ce093 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn223.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +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 Proofread by Claire Deakin, December 2013. The Midas Touch 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 waist 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 Maenads, 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 amongst 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. 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 the steward held him back saying that the satyr was a guest of the King. Silenus 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 with 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, Silenus stayed with Midas for a week. No one was more pleased about this show of hospitality than Dionysus, because in his eyes, anyone who honoured Silenus honoured Dionysus. A few days after Silenus 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." 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." Then he tossed the golden apple over his shoulder, and hurried into the palace to try his touch on random objects: columns, statues, furniture and doorknobs. The servants heard his voice laughing and shouting, "Gold, glorious gold!" And they wondered what had gotten 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!" 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 upstream 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." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn224.txt b/text/sn224.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..06cafcba4c19d3b4171d188306a2f79e6ea1ac6d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn224.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pictures for Storynory by Nick Hayes, click to enlarge.', "Our story is taken up by Princess Medea. Jason and the Argonauts have arrived in her father's kingdom of Colchis. They have come to take the fabulous Golden Fleece back to Greece - something her father is not happy about. Medea is in love with Jason and decides to help him with her magic. ", 'And that was the third part of Jason and Medea told by me, Natasha Gostwick, and written for Storynory by Bertie. I’ll be back soon with the fourth and final part in which we will find out if Jason really does manage to get the Golden fleece for Greece ! And our production of Jason and Medea has fantastic music by Gabriella Burnell and stunning illustrations by Nick Hayes so drop by at Storynory.com for the whole effect. For now, from me, Natasha Bye Bye. This part read by Natasha in voice of Medea. Medea is daughter of Aeetes, the cruel king of Colchis, and the owner of the Golden Fleece. It starts off with the same line as part one “It is a youthful traveller” which is a play on “It is an Ancient Mariner”. Medea talks of her infatuation for Jason, talks of her beauty and her strong will, and reveals that she is a witch. He appeared at their palace out of a mist. Her father invited him to dinner, and he asked for the Golden Fleece offering to perform a quest for it. Her father asked him to sow a field with dragon’s teeth. He did not say that the field must be sewed with bulls, and that they teeth would grow up into a terrible army of skeleton men. Medea dreams that she performed the task herself, and her father was furious with her. She wakes up and goes out into the corridor where she meets Jason. They do not touch but are obviously in love with each other. She follows him down to his ship, and gives him a magic potion to help him form the task. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn225.txt b/text/sn225.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1cd85919eabe6b2558492a8ed906252ea33cf604 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn225.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Pictures by Nick Hayes. Click to enlarge. There is an postscript. The Greek writer, Euripides, penned a famous drama entitled Medea. He gave the tale a gory ending. But some people think Euripides made up his violent finale to slander the non-Greek Medea. We give the story our own twist in the final scene. And that was the fourth and final part of Jason and Medea written for Storynory by Bertie, and read by Richard Scott, and me, Natasha Gostwick. Our production features the Music of Gabriella Burnell and the illustrations of Nick Hayes. Do drop by at Storynory.com for the full effect ! We do hope that you have enjoyed our version of this ancient story. There are more Greek myths, and many more audio stories from all over the world, at Storynory.com, so do make full use of this resource in your schools and homes ! For now from me Natasha, and from me Richard, Goodbye read by Natasha in voice of Medea - but with bits later on by Richard who will speak Jason’s voice when he argues with Medea. Summary : Jason has super-human strength from the magic lotion given to him by Medea. He yokes the bulls and sews the field of Ares. He sows the dragon’s teeth into the earth. Skeleton men spring up from the earth to fight him, but he throws a stone at the bulls and they charge and scatter the skeletons. Jason claims the fleece from Aeetes. Aeetes refuses. Medea slips down to the boats and tells Jason that she will drug the dragon that guards the fleece. Jason promises to take her back to Greece and marry her. She puts the dragon to sleep and Jason steals the fleece from the dragon’s cave. Medea and the Argonauts sail away but the shining fleece lights up the sky. Aeetes sees it and his navy chases the Argo. Jason and Medea stop at an island where they ambush Aeetes son and kill him. They throw his body in the sea and Aeetes is held up while he picks up the body. They sail to the island of Medea’s aunt, the witch Circe. They ask her for a spell to put off the persuing army. Circe will only grant the spell if Jason will marry Medea. Jason says that he does not want to marry a woman who would murder her own brother. They start to argue. But when Aeetes army is near he gives in and marries her. They return to Greece and Medea gives him two children. Jason divorces her and marries another woman. Medea tells us that we should not believe the playwright Euripides who told lies about her. She did take her revenge but it was not like they said in the drama. She flew back to Colchis in a magic Chariot and took the fleece with her. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn226.txt b/text/sn226.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..66dcb484940023ac872d5579ec9772cc1b089281 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn226.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Adaptation by Bertie. Pygmalion - Hello, this is Natasha, and I am dropping by with a story from Ancient Greece. It’s called Pygmalion and tells how a sculptor fell in love with his own statue. The island of Cyprus lies not far from the lands that we nowadays call Turkey and Syria. In its centre rise snow capped mountains covered with Cyprus trees. In ancient times, Cyprus was famous as the home of Aphrodite, the goddess of love. You can visit the ruins of her sanctuary near the town of Paphos. If you look very carefully out to sea, you might still catch sight of a beautiful woman, sailing over the sea foam in a giant conch shell. Many centuries ago, a man called Pygmalion lived and worked in Cyprus. He was a sculptor and he used to carve statues of the gods and demigods who frequented the island. He had the greatest skill. Those who admired his work said that his statues almost lived and breathed, they were so lifelike. Pygmalion had some eccentricities. Not least, he avoided women so far as he could. Life, he considered, should be dedicated to art, not women. If he was going to put anybody or anything on a pedestal, it would be a statue. Of course, he could not avoid the female sex all together. Often women would come into his studio to choose one of his miniature statues of the gods or goddesses. Many people had shrines at home, where they said their prayers to the gods. Shrines needed statues. Occasionally he would find that his eyes were lingering on one of those female forms.He would watch her examine the work of his hands with her gently slanting brown eyes, run her slender fingers over his smooth carvings, perhaps blush at his effigies of satyrs, which were rather rude sometimes. And he could not help wondering at her wavy auburn hair, and the mysterious feline way that she moved, and her soft lips and.. oh.. well it was annoying, and he certainly did not tell anybody else about these feelings. One night, as the sculptor lay asleep, Aphrodite herself appeared to him. “Listen now Pygmalion,” she said, ticking him off. "You are dishonouring me by refusing to love a woman. There are several nice young girls in the village. You must pick one for your wife, and if you don’t, I will choose one for you!” Poor Pygmalion. The goddess was ordering him to marry. This was not so much a dream, as a nightmare! Fortunately, a cunning plan occurred to him. “Oh goddess, please,” he begged. "Before I marry I must create my greatest work. Give me time to create a statue in your likeness. It will be the most lovely lifelike statue ever made, and will do you the greatest honour. I cannot do this when I am married, for my wife will be jealous of its great beauty.” Aphrodite was famously open to flattery and she smiled at his suggestion. “All right then,” she agreed. "I shall give you a stay of execution. You may have time to make a statue of me before you marry. I look forward to seeing it.” In the morning, Pygmalion went down to the port and spoke to a merchant. He ordered the finest ivory from Africa. He knew that it would take several months to arrive. When it did come, he started to make small statues of the goddess, trying them out in different poses. When Aphrodite appeared to him in a dream to complain about the delay, he replied that art cannot be rushed. A year went by, and Pygmalion ran out of excuses. He began to work on the life-sized statue for real. He made her perfect. Her ivory surface was as white as snow. She had more beauty, in an unblemished sort of way, than any real girl could have. And yet, she was so real, she seemed at first glance to be living. He painted her eyes blue, and you could see daylight in them. You could fancy that the breeze was playing in her wavy hair. Her lips were just slightly parted. She seemed just about to move – only she stayed quite still. The sculptor marvelled at his wonderful creation. He held her hand. Was she really ivory, and not flesh and blood? She was so real, she could not be ivory surely? But he knew that she was. After all, he had made her. He kissed her, and it seemed that she returned his kiss. He spoke to her, and it was as if he could hear her beautiful, wise and witty thoughts. He told her many times how lovely she was. When he went out for walks, she was always on his mind, and he searched for presents for her. Smooth pebbles, winding shells, and wild flowers. His delicate hands made jewellery for her out of silver and amber. He slipped a ring on her finger. He draped her in lovely dresses. He even brought her a little pet bird for company while he was away. He lay her down on the bed with a soft pillow for her head. When he spoke to her, he gave her a name, Galatea. Of course, Aphrodite saw all of this, and she laughed at the sculptor who scorned all women and who yet, had fallen in love with one, or the idea of one, sprung from his own imagination and craft. “Yes,” she thought. “My power is greater than that of all the gods and goddesses.” It was the holiday of Aphrodite. People were dancing and singing in the streets. Incense burnt on the altar of love in the temple. Pygmalion kneeled down and prayed: “Oh Mighty Aphrodite! I have chosen the girl I wish to marry. She is my sculpture. Please bring her to life, for I can love no other.” Aphrodite saw that the heart of Pygmalion had changed. She knew that he had done her a great honour by falling in love. She made the flame on the alter leap and dance for joy. Pygmalion understood that she had granted his greatest wish, and he rushed home. He found the statue, standing quite still as she always did. There were tears of disappointment in his eyes. He held her darling hand and stroked her slender arm. Gradually he felt her skin soften, as wax softens in the sunshine. She began to turn from snow white to slightly pink. There was warmth in her body. Gradually she leaned her head back, and her hair fell down loosely over her shoulders. Her eyes moved. Her mouth opened. The statue of Pygmalion was alive! Pygmalion married Galatea and he soon discovered that she was not actually perfect – because no living person is. Only a statue or a figment of the imagination can attain perfection. But she was lovely, and that was more than enough. They lived very happily together. A year later, a lovely baby was born to the sculptor and his wife. They called him Paphos, and as time went by, the place on the island where Aphrodite was born was named after him. And that was the story of Pygmalion. Bertie says that the story of Pygmalion has inspired many writers. George Bernard Shaw wrote a play called Pygmalion. It wasn’t actually about a statue, but about a cockney girl called Elisa Doolittle. A gentleman tried to make her into a lady by teaching her to speak poshly. She was to be his work of art. The play was later made into a musical called My Fair Lady. The film starred Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison. We have loads more greek myths at Storynory.com, so do drop by and listen to some soon. For now, from me, Natasha \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn227.txt b/text/sn227.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6470a77b50262843d409fd25d09f0e2d43ebe56e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn227.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Andromeda was tied to a rock by her parents and left for a sea-monster to eat for his breakfast. Not surprisingly, she wasn’t very pleased about that. She tells us in her own voice how this came about, and how she was rescued by the Greek Hero, Perseus. We then hear Perseus’ life story, including the tale of how he cut off the snaky head of the Gorgon Medusa. That really did happen to me - and do you know what? My own parents chained me to that rock. Yes, my mother and father! I thought they loved me! My mother was always boasting about me. She told anyone who would listen that I was more beautiful than the sea nymphs called the Nereids – I’m not saying that it wasn’t true – but you just can’t say that sort of thing. It’s called blasphemy. The Nereids are immortal, and they have a god-given right to claim the title for anything they want, including the most beautiful. But I was young, and I didn’t know that. The thing that really irked me was their plan to marry me off to my uncle. If it wasn’t bad enough that he was middle aged and ugly and my father’s brother – he was also – would you believe it – a pirate. His ghastly crews of cutthroats were menacing our ports, and he said they would do worse still if I could not be his bride. So Mum and Dad caved in without even asking my opinion. The wedding date was fixed, and invitations went out with a little ode by the court bard comparing me to the Nereids and saying that I topped them in the looks department. They even sent one of these little ditties to Poseidon the God of the Sea – well known for his stormy temper – and the proud father of the aforementioned Nereids. What a mistake that was! He didn’t just stir up the waves, he puked up a foul monster that came to ravage our coast. His priestess told my parents that the monster would not pull back until it had yours truly as a sacrificial breakfast. So now you know how I found myself in that rather nasty predicament chained to the rock. If that wasn’t irksome enough, there was the court painter up on the cliffs, recording the very first impression of Andromeda and the Sea Monster for mythology. I don’t know if I was more terrified, or more furious with my parents. I thought I would never see my seventeenth birthday. As I mentioned, the sea monster was dragging things out – I think he enjoyed the drama of it all. The crowds of spectators were going to get their money’s worth – but that was his big mistake. I looked up to the sky to call out: "Oh Zeus, Lord of the Heavens, send me deliverance from this foul beast and these dumb parents of mine!" And who says that prayer has no power – because, out of the clouds, there appeared a strange bird. I saw right away that this was something out of the ordinary; he seemed more upright in the air than a normal feathered friend. I can’t say he swooped like an Eagle, at times it looked more like he was tossed by the winds – a real amateur flyer. But then he gained more control and started to streak towards us. I could see now that this creature of the air was equipped with a shield, a sword, and a helmet. His wings were on his feet – which accounted for his strange style of flying. He was encumbered by a sort of rucksack on his back. I held my breath. I was surely saved. Here was a god or a hero and he was going to use his sword to slice up that foul serpent of the sea. But oh – what an idiot! Instead of coming to save me, he plonked himself down on the ground right by my parents. I learned later that he was demanding my hand in marriage in return for rescuing me. My father, as was his annoying way, was bargaining with him for a better deal. I took a deep breath and called out: "Come on! If you are going to save me, get on with it!" At which point, the winged hero finally got the idea that time was of the essence. He did his thing, and fluttered above the beast with his sword, swiping this way and that, until he finally struck home and kebabbed it through the neck. That night we ate fried sea serpent on the beach. So I learned the name of my hero. He called himself Perseus, son of Zeus. I must admit, he was an improvement on my previous fiance. At least he was young and handsome, even if he was an incompetent flyer, and he liked the sound of his own voice a bit too much. He sat talking to my father about the politics of heaven and earth, and all his divine relatives, and all his heroic deeds and adventures. One thing I noticed was he never seemed to leave his rucksack, which was made out of goatskin, far from his sight. When he put it down on the beach, all the seaweed immediately turned to coral. Whatever was inside it had some pretty powerful magic. When eventually he sat down next to me I asked: “So what brought you here Perseus?” “The winds,” he said. “Or perhaps fate. My life has always been like that. When I was a baby, my father put me in a crate with my mother and dropped us into the Aegean Sea.” “Aren’t parents wonderful?” I commented. “Well he had his reasons. An oracle told him that I was fated to kill him,” he explained. “For five days my mother and I were the playthings of the winds, tossed by the waves this way and that. Eventually we washed up with the flotsam and jetsam on the shore of the island of Seriphos where we were discovered by a fisherman. He brought us to King Polydectes who took us into his palace and looked after us. The only problem was, see, he fancied my mother, the beautiful Danae, the bride of Zeus. He came to her as a shower of golden rain.” “As Zeus does,” I said. “As time went by, and I grew older, Polydectes resented me more and more. He thought that I was keeping my mother from him. So when it was his birthday, he came up with a wheeze to get me out of the way. I asked him what he wanted as a present – and he replied: “The head of the Gorgon Medusa.” “The head of who?” “Medusa. She was once a beautiful woman, but she too found a way to anger the gods by violating the temple of Athena. The vengeful goddess gave Medusa the worst hair day in all of history. She made her head full of snakes – hissing, spitting and writhing. She is so terrifying to behold that any man who looks at her immediately turns into stone. She is quite literally petrifying.” “And women?” I asked. “I do not know. I believe it is men who fear the head of Medusa most.” “Well that’s quite a quest,” I said. “I wish you luck with it.” I thought perhaps that when he next flew off, he would never come back. It was a pity, because as I said, he was a nice looking chap. He had muscles alright. But we did not have time to chat more because who should turn up then, but the most annoying man in my life – and that’s saying something – Uncle Phineus, the pirate who thought he had a right to marry his own niece. Well now I had a protector who would show him. There was only one problem. My uncle had a whole army with him. When my uncle and would-be husband saw Perseus sitting cosily close up to me, his eyes blazed with fury. He raised his spear ready to throw it at my body. That wasn’t nice. My father stood up and called out: "Brother, what are you doing? Perseus has won the right to marry my daughter. Do not blame him for losing your bride. It was Poseidon who meant to take her away from all of us by sending his sea serpent to devour her." Phineus had a hot temper, however, and would hear none of it. He threw his spear and missed. Perseus would have returned it with interest – but my uncle sought divine protection by diving behind the altar of Bacchus. Then there broke out an almighty brawl between Phineus’ army of pirates and my father’s body guards. Perseus was active too, cutting down pirates right and left with his sword, but it was clear that our side of the family was heavily outnumbered. When things were looking bad for us, Perseus picked up his goatskin sack. I thought “Uh oh, he’s off, preparing to make his getaway,” but now I know that Perseus is not one to flee from a fight. He called out: “Our side, all look away – Now!” And turning his own head away, he reached inside the bag and pulled out the head of Medusa. I could look at it because I am a girl, and we women are not so easily petrified by revolting stuff as men are. It was truly hideous – more so than that sea monster. It was the combination of a pale but beautiful face and those foul snakes. They made my blood run cold, but I did not turn to stone. The pirates of Phineus however, all instantly became statues. My uncle had managed to look away at the last moment and was shielding his eyes with his sleeve. Now he started to plead: “Perseus. You are the rightful husband of Andromeda. I acknowledge that I was wrong to attack you. Show mercy. Spare me.” But my fiance called back: “You shall not suffer the sword. I will cause you to be an enduring monument through the ages, and you will always be seen in my father-in-law’s palace.” He walked over to where Phineus was hiding and dangled the snakes over his face – and he too turned into a statue. A well deserved fate, I say. By now I realised that Perseus had already completed his mission to cut off the Gorgon’s head. He told me how Athena had given him the equipment he needed for the deed. She provided him with the shiny shield, and told him to look only at Medusa’s reflection, not at her directly. She gave him too the divine sword with which to cut off her horrid head. And Hermes, the messenger of the gods, provided him with the winged sandals and a cap of invisibility. It was a pity he didn’t give him a flying lesson too while he was about it. The main problem was that Perseus did not know where on earth to find the Gorgon ladies and Medusa. First off he flew to the lands of the snowy north, where days are short and the skies are dirty. There, in a damp and chilly cave, he found the three grey sisters who share one eye between them. They were relatives of Medusa, and surely knew where she lurked, but they were loath to betray their kith and kin. Perseus was quick and cunning, and as they passed the eye between them, sister to sister, he slipped in his hand and took it off them. Now the grey sisters were beside themselves: “Return our eye you Greek thief!” they raged. “Ah-ah, not until you tell me what I want to know.” he declared. Eventually the grey ones had no choice but to give him directions to the land of the Gorgons, way to the south, where Medusa could be found. So armed with this knowledge, Perseus took flight once again. He flew down south to the lands that are hot and sandy, and discovered the temple of the serpent-headed Gorgon. He could hear the hissing of her snakes as her head lay on a grassy knoll. Stepping backwards, guided only by the reflection of his shield, he crept up on tiptoe holding his divine sword. It was with one swift swish that he cut off her head and bagged it in the goatskin knapsack that was on loan from Hermes, and through which snakes could not bite.', "So that was how Perseus collected the snaky head of Medusa. He flew off for home, his wings beating the gentle air. As he passed over Libya, the Gorgon’s blood dripped from his bag and landed on the desert sand. Ever since then it has been a place beset by snakes. As he reached the coast the winds began to blow – he was at their mercy – carried this way and that – just as he had been as a baby on the waves of the sea. A current of air lifted him high into the sky and tossed him down onto the edge of the world – the place where the giant Atlas lives. Now Atlas' jealously guarded his orchard, the garden of the Hesperides, where golden apples grew on the trees. The suspicious strong man suspected that the son of Zeus had come to steal his precious fruit. Giant as he was, he thought that no puny man could defeat him – how could he? And he came to thump Perseus and drive him down into the Underworld. But he did not reckon on the hero’s secret weapon. Perseus pulled the beastly snakehead out of his goatskin knapsack. Medusa’s face petrified Atlas. His hair and beard became trees. His hulking body turned into the rock and earth of a mountain. His head was its summit. He grew into an immense height and the whole sky with its many stars rested on him. Now, and forevermore, it is the body that was once Atlas that holds up the top of the world.", 'The storm had settled, and Perseus could resume his journey, but he was so blown off course that he did not know where he was. That is how he found himself drifting over the rock to which I was chained. It was chance that brought him to me. But no, nothing is chance. The gods meant it to be. It was fate. The day after the fight with the pirates, I was married to Perseus. I must say I was content. We were, after all, a handsome couple, matched in beauty, but not in brains. I, of course, was ten times as smart as he was. A few weeks of near perfection passed and then, one morning, he said to me: “My darling Andromeda. It is high time you met my mother.” Now girls, just so you know, this is something that all men get round to saying sooner or later. It’s just something you have to go through. “But she lives far across the sea,” I protested, “How are we going to get to her place?” “Fly,” he said. "Fly? If you think I’m hitching a lift on your back while you flutter around on those winged sandals, you’ve got another thing coming. No thank you. I’m a ground-loving girl."', "Perseus was quite naturally put out by this speech – but I mean, did he really think I was going to entrust myself to what he called 'the winds of fate?' No way! But a few days later he came back with a more acceptable idea. When he killed Medusa, apparently a winged horse called Pegasus had hopped out of her neck. He had done a bit of private praying to his half-sister Athena, and she told Pegasus to hop over the seas, and to pick us up and carry us back to his home. Yes, that was the way to fly! What a journey! The two of us on that magnificent, brilliant white horse with a proper wing span that could beat the air and carry us smoothly above all the turbulence. The sea below us, the sky above – all stretched out and curved at the edges – just like it was there for us and only us. I could see ships and dolphins and shimmering waves feathered with white surf. Golden sunset. Silvery moon. Rosy dawn – it was just like we were Gods!", 'When we reached the Island of Seriphos, we went straight to the palace to meet the king. “Welcome back Percy” he said patronisingly. I for one don’t like that nickname and always call him Perseus. “I see you’ve gotten yourself a fine horse and a pretty bride. But what have you brought me? The Gorgon’s head proved too much for you eh? Though you be son of Zeus.” “Behold,” said Perseus, extracting the hideous thing from his bag. The king beheld his birthday gift, the head of Medusa, and he turned to stone. Next I met my husband’s mother, Danae. He had not exaggerated. She was indeed a true beauty and a fitting bride for Zeus. Perseus then had to see another important woman in his life – his half-sister Athena. He returned the shield and the sword to her. He also gave her Medusa’s head, which she affixed to her shield, so that all her enemies would be petrified. Hermes took back his winged sandals – good riddance to them I say, and his goatskin bag. Perseus was still my hero. Beautiful, strong, a bit thick. That is not quite the end of the story. A few years later, he took part in some athletic games. It was, after all, something he was good at. He was about to win the javelin contest, throwing his spear to its target well and true. But at that moment and old man, in a bit of a daze, stepped into its path. He was killed instantly. So the life of Perseus was again determined by fate. He had killed his father, King Zeus, who all those years before had set him and his mother adrift in a crate on the seas. And what became of me? Well I was a mortal, and so after many years, it was my fate to die. But as I was the wife of a hero and a demigod, Perseus decided to honour me. He turned me into a constellation called, naturally enough, Andromeda. My mother, my father, the winged horse Pegasus, and that beastly sea monster are all up here with me. Perseus is a bit further away. What’s it like being a constellation? Well life up here is pretty glitzy, as you can imagine. We have everything we need to sparkle and shine and look beautiful. We have wonderful views of the planets and the infinite majesty of space. But oh yes, I do miss the warmth of human blood in my veins, and the embrace of my hero, Perseus.', "And that was the story of Andromeda and Perseus, from Greek mythology. Bertie’s asked me to tell you, in case you don’t know, that the word 'petrified' can mean both terrified and 'turned to stone'. It comes from the Greek word 'petros', meaning rock. The name Peter also means 'rock' and in the Bible, Jesus calls Peter 'the rock' of the church. So now you know! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn228.txt b/text/sn228.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c471e666ff201b56fa41bb1b0b3cb21e8387b43c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn228.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +An ancient Greek story about the origins of love. Let us know if you think the story is "true". Hello, This is Natasha, and I’m here with a short myth from Ancient Greece. It explains why all of us have one true love in the world. It’s a romantic idea but it’s also interesting because of the special time and place that it was originally told. You probably know that Athens is the capital of Greece. Its name comes from ancient times when it was dedicated to Athena - the goddess of wisdom. Her graceful temple, the Parthenon, still stands on a hill called the Acropolis, high above all the noise and pollution of the modern city. When people first came into the world, they were very different from the way they are now. In those days, they did not walk on two legs, because they had a much faster way of getting around. They were shaped like cartwheels, and they rolled over the ground. These wheelie people were actually like two persons joined together. They had two faces, four arms and four legs. And that was not all that was different. As you know, the human race is now divided up into two sexes - men and women (or girls and boys if they are younger). Back then, there were three types - men, women, and a combination of both. You might think that some of what I have said sounds rather peculiar. But actually, that’s because you are so used to how things are now. Try to see it this way. The Sun, the Moon, and the Earth are a trio of round objects that move in circles. It made perfect sense that people were divided the same way, and followed the same circular pattern. For a long time there was harmony in the universe. The wheelie people made sacrifices to the gods in heaven by burning the best pieces of meat and food. The smoke went up to the gods and pleased them. But there came a time when the wheelie people grew arrogant. They got way, way above themselves and decided to rebel against the gods. This had already happened once before when giants lived on earth. The giants tried to climb up Mount Olympus and overthrow the gods. It did not work out well for them, because Zeus, the king of the gods, attacked them with lightning bolts and electrocuted the rebellious giants before they got half way up the side of the mountain. This time Zeus stood on the peak of Mount Olympus, holding his thunderbolt in his hand, ready to throw it at the foolish humans as they went round in circles. But he felt sad, and did not really want to kill them all. He pondered: “Who will fill our nostrils with the delicious aroma of sacrifices when all the people are gone?” Besides, the silly antics of the human race provided endless entertainment for the gods to watch. At last he smiled and said to himself: “This is my plan. I won’t kill the humans. Instead, I shall cut them in two. They will be half as strong and twice as many. They will be no threat to us gods, but they will give us even more sacrifices.” And then waving his thunderbolt above his head, almighty Zeus directed his army of storm clouds into all out war against the human race. An almighty tempest blew up. Lightning rained down from the skies while the hell-fire from heaven struck each of the wheelie people, cutting them exactly in two. But they were not killed, merely divided. From then on, until this day, humans have felt they are weak and vulnerable, and only at half strength. This is why we long to find our other half. We feel this intense yearning to combine with another person, but only the person that we should naturally be joined with. When we are lucky enough to find that one true individual, we feel a powerful attraction, and an almost telepathic connection. We need to hold them close and spend the rest of our lives with them. Only that union can restore us to full strength. The circle is complete, and once again we feel happy, like we did when we were able to wheel freely through the world without any cares. This force, this glue that pulls and joins us together, is called Love.', "And remember, the one thing that does last forever is 'Love'. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn229.txt b/text/sn229.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b0de4c6ccb489db9917e7ae2aa105772632aed57 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn229.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Evil Mouse Hello, This is Natasha and I’m here with an old French fairy tale about an evil mouse. Listen on, if you dare. One night, a prince and his hunting party rode through a forest by torchlight. The dogs were on the trail of a fawn. The little creature darted across a stream and hid itself among some bushes, but the pack of hounds did not run her down. Instead, they stopped by the stream and gathered around something else that they had unexpectedly discovered. The prince rode up and jumped down onto the ground. He parted his way through the pack, and only now did he see what they had found. A young girl lay by the side of the stream. He knelt down and felt the pulse in her neck. She was alive - just. Her clothes were simple, but when he held her hand in his, he saw that her skin was fine and white and her nails were carefully manicured. “Lady, wake up, you should not sleep here, there are wild beasts in the forest who may harm you.” But she did not awake. The prince called for his men to cut down some branches, to tie them together, and to make a stretcher. This they did, and they carried the sleeping maiden back to the castle where the serving maids laid in her a soft bed. An entire day and night went by before she awoke. When the prince heard the news that she had opened her eyes, he went to her room and knelt down by her side. “Have no fear,” he said, “for you are safe here.” As she turned her lovely head towards him, her large eyes filled with tears, and she said, imploringly, “I am truly afraid, but not for the any of the reasons that you might suspect. The person I fear more than any being, from the natural or the supernatural world, is myself. Yes, I am the one that I fear, and so should you. Do not trust me. I will not repay your kindness well. If you are wise, you will turn me out. Do this, I beg you: send me away from your lovely castle before I do you harm. ” The prince smiled and said, “Fair maiden, you do not seem to me like one I should fear. You’ve been unwell, and you’ve had a bad dream, that is all.” “Oh I how I wish that it were true!” exclaimed the girl. “I will give you my story, and when you have heard it through, tell me then if it sounds like a dream.” The prince agreed to her proposal. He settled himself in a chair in the corner of the room and listened to what the young girl had to say. “My name”, she said, “is Rosalie and I am a few days short of my sixteenth birthday. Until recently, I lived with my good father. He always treated me gently, and in the main I returned his generosity and kindness with obedience, as a good daughter should. But there was one occasion when I disobeyed his orders, and oh how I regret my foolish actions! It was my childish curiosity that got the better of me! “We lived in a large house surrounded by a lovely garden. I wandered freely wherever I wished, except to one place where I was forbidden to go. At the bottom of the garden there stood a little shed. Every morning, before breakfast, my father visited that shed. When he left it, he locked the door firmly behind him and placed the key in his pocket. Many times I asked him what was inside the shed, and he always replied: ‘Rosalie, do not ask, and if you respect me, do not try to satisfy your curiosity on this matter. On no account must you ever go inside the shed.’ ‘Yes father, I promise,’ I said. And for many years, I kept my word, until one day, after my father left the house wearing his best suit, I noticed that he had placed the key to the shed on the side table. It was large and rusty, and no doubt would not have fitted easily into his suit pocket. I looked at the key for a long time and wondered: ‘Why does father not want me to look inside the shed? Surely he does not have a prisoner inside there, for he is too kind for that? And if it were some wild, ferocious beast, would I not hear it roar? Could it be that I have a relative, some family member, of whom he is ashamed for some reason? Is that possible? If that is so, I have a right to know, and if I do not take this opportunity to find out, I might never discover the truth of this dark secret.’ And so with great trepidation, I picked up the key and I walked slowly, but determinedly, down the garden path to the shed. When I reached the wooden building, I turned the key in the lock. It was stiff, but I managed to release the bolt. I pushed the door open a little way, and called out: ‘Is there anyone inside?’ I thought I heard a little squeaking sound. I put my ear closer to the gap in the doorway and I heard a song: ‘So it’s true,’ I said to myself, ‘here is the unfortunate creature whom my father holds captive.’ Tapping softly upon the door, I said: ‘Who are you, and what can I do for you?’ ‘Open the door, Rosalie! I pray you open the door!’ ‘But why are you a prisoner? Have you committed some crime?’ ‘Alas! no, Rosalie. An enchanter keeps me here a prisoner. Save me and I will prove my gratitude by telling you who I truly am.’ My hand trembled as I pushed the door fully open. I peered into an apparently empty shed. Then, I noticed something scuttling across the floorboards towards me. UGHH! It was horrid little mouse! A dirty gray colour he was, with a disgusting tale like a piece of string. I froze to the spot. The mouse stopped by my foot and looked up at me with his piercing red eyes. ‘Rosalie!’ he said, in his evil little voice, ‘You have delighted me with your foolishness ! So it has turned out that curiosity didn’t just kill the cat. It has been the downfall of you and your father.’ I began to sob. ‘What do you mean little mouse?’ I asked, ‘What have I done that is so wrong?’ ‘Nothing!’ exclaimed the mouse, ‘Your disobedience of your father has turned out wonderfully - for me. He! He! He! I am the fairy who goes by the name of Detestable. It is a name that suits me well, because all who are foolish, gentle and good detest me! HA HA HA! And none more so than your father who turned me into a mouse and imprisoned me in this shed. Now you have broken your word to him, and you have followed my commands to the letter. You are in my power Rosalie, and from now on must do all that I say.’ ‘It’s no use,’ squealed the mouse exultantly, ‘You can’t kill me because I’m a fairy, and now you must do as I say. Go to the fire, light a taper, and burn down the house.’ ‘I shall not,’ I said. But already I felt my resistance was weakening. I could not help myself. And I admit to you that this part only of my sorry story felt like a dream - I did as the detestable little creature said - I went to the fire, lit a taper, and then used it to set alight to the thatch of the house which overhung the window. It has been a dry summer, and the roof caught fire quickly. Soon an almighty blaze took hold of the building. ‘What have I done? What have I done?’ I exclaimed, and I ran out of the house, down the garden path, and into the forest. I kept on running through thickets and briars until I came to the stream where you found me. There, I fell into a deep sleep. Now do you not believe me? Am I not the most disobedient and ungrateful child who ever lived? Does my wickedness not fill you with repugnance? What are you waiting for, why have you not turned me out?” “Rosalie. Listen to me. Go to where the gardener has set up a bonfire to burn old leaves. Fetch flames from the fire and burn down this tree. Do as I say Rosalie. Do not resist for you will only tire yourself out if you fight me. You are in my power and have no choice. “ And again, as if in a dream, Rosalie did as the little mouse said, and went to fetch the flames. She set light to the wonderful tree, and surprisingly soon its trunk and branches were a heap of ashes on the ground. Some little goblins appeared, and following the directions of the mouse, they picked up the precious stones and leaves and carried them off. Rosalie watched on helplessly. When the goblins and the mouse had disappeared from sight, she sobbed hot tears and tore at her dress. “I have betrayed my host who was so kind to me; the charming prince who, if I had only played my cards right, might have brought me joy and happiness for the rest of my life. Oh what a fool am I ! I should not blame that magical mouse, for he cannot help being evil. It is I who am my own worst enemy!” When she had made this speech, to noone but herself, she ran out of the garden and into the fields behind the castle. She ran and she ran, this time determined to find a lonely spot where she could fall into one last dreamless sleep. It was not long before the gardener discovered the ashes of the tree. He informed the prince, who immediately understood that Rosalie was the one who had done this terrible deed. A guard had seen the girl running across the fields. The prince ordered the stable boy to fetch his horse and his best hunting hound. A maid brought the pillow on which Rosalie had laid her auburn curls, for it bore her scent. The hound was soon on the the trail. They rode across the field, and out onto the moar. Some hours later, the prince discovered Rosalie hiding herself behind a boulder. She had stumbled, twisted her ankle, and could run no further. “I am so sorry, I am so sorry,” she cried out, “I could not help myself. “ The prince dismounted. “I know,” he said, “there’s no need to tell me. An evil mouse commanded you to burn down the tree. It was a thing of marvelous beauty, planted by my great grandfather, who they say had magical powers.” “You don’t believe me, do you?” said the girl. “But if your grandfather had magical powers, why is it not possible for an evil fairy to take the form of a mouse?” “Because”, said the prince, but he did not complete the sentence. Just then he noticed a gray little creature sitting on top of the boulder. The mouse was shaking - with laughter. “Ha Ha Ha!” said the mouse, “Now you too are in my power.” “Never!” cried the prince, And so saying he drew the sword that had been made years ago by his grandfather. It was a magical sword that could kill fairies, and with a swipe of its sharp blade he cut off the head of evil rodent. And that is the story of The Evil Mouse, read by me, Natasha, for Storynory.com Do I have to tell you that Rosalie married the prince and they lived happily ever after? The only trouble they received from mice after that was the sort that could be dealt with by the castle cats. Bertie says that he has based the story on “The Little Gray Mouse” by The Countess of Ségur. She was a born in St. Petersburg, in Russia, in the year 1799. Her father was sent into exile, and the family moved to France. The countess wrote a number of novels, as well as a book of Old French Fairy Tales. Bertie has changed this story around a little bit. In our version, there are fewer fairies, and the state of Rosalie’s mind is more important. And don’t forget, we have loads more free stories, from all over the world, at Storynory.com. For now, from me Natasha \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn23.txt b/text/sn23.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c57af330542be76ff5726ac46840f7266c11e689 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn23.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Sadie is a beautiful black swan who lives on the pond with Prince Bertie the Frog. She finds a crown and puts it on her elegant head. Prince Boris sees her, and believes that she is a princess who has been turned into a swan - in the same way that Prince Bertie was turned into a frog. One summer’s day, the royal nanny wheeled a push chair from the palace, down the garden path to the pond. The little girl sitting in the chair wore a golden crown on top of her curly head. Her name was Princess Poppy. When they arrived, Nanny released the little princess from the straps of her push chair and gave her a bag of the day-before-yesterday’s bread. All the ducks and geese could spot a crumb from a mile away, and they were soon flapping and squawking in front of the princess, and racing and pecking each other. Sadie, the solitary black swan, sat aloof from the unseemly squabble, and admired the crown on the little princess’ head. “Oh my,” said Sadie out loud to no one in particular, “I am so pleased to live on a royal pond. The people who come here are such a cut above!” Princess Poppy began to toddle along the edge of the pond, the royal nanny followed close behind her, tapping on her her mobile phone as she went. The princess clambered up onto a little pier that led out into the water. The nanny was texting, "CU @ 8 by the bike sheds." And she did not notice when the princess’ little foot trod on some duck weed. Prince Bertie the frog saw this and he croaked, “Uh oh!” Because he knew that the weed was very slippery. And then, oh dear, she did slip on the weed, and then... Splash! Princess Poppy was in the water. She couldn’t swim and she just went straight down to the bottom like a bomb. The water wasn’t deep, but it went over the princess’ head. Bertie dived in after her but he was just a frog, and all he could do was say, “Hold your breath little princess!” The nanny, still holding her mobile phone, jumped into the water, and in a few seconds she had pulled the princess up off the bottom of the pond and placed her on the pier. The princess said,”Look Nanny, I’m all wet.” And Nanny burst into tears because she knew it was her fault. She was so upset that she didn’t notice that her mobile phone had stopped working, or that the princess had left her crown on the bottom of the pond. The first creatures to find the crown were the tadpoles. It looked so big to them that they thought it was a golden palace and that its points were towers. They swam in and out of it singing: “I’m the king of the castle, and you’re the dirty rascal.” Then Colin the carp scooped the crown onto his head and tried it for size. “Now I’m just as important as that snooty His Royal Highness Prince Bertie the Frog,” he said. But after a while, his head began to hurt, so he stopped wearing the crown. Little Tim the Tadpole said, “Bertie, why don’t you put the crown on? After all, you’re the only true prince in this pond.” Unfortunately, Bertie couldn’t wear the crown, because although it was size 1 and a half, just big enough for a small child, it was still too heavy for a frog. But it did fit just perfectly onto the elegant head of Sadie the Swan. Soon, she was swanning around the pond like a true princess. All the ducklings and goslings gazed at her in admiration. In a dark corner of the pond, Colin the carp muttered, “It’s bad enough putting up with a frog who thinks he’s a prince, but there’s nothing so annoying as a swan who’s got airs and graces.” And as it happened, Sadie was already wondering if in fact she was a true princess. “Bertie,” she said as she admired her own reflection, “Do you think it’s at all possible that the wicked queen turned me into a swan, just like she turned you into a frog?’ Bertie did not want to disappoint Sadie, so he replied, “Well, maybe...” Later that day, Prince Boris came down to the pond. He set up a little chair on the end of the pier, took out a rod, and cast a fishing line into the water. Bertie warned all the fish to stay away from his hook, even though there was a fat tempting worm on it. Prince Boris had flowing blond locks of hair. Bertie always considered that he looked like a girl, but the girls all thought he was extremely handsome, and Sadie agreed with them. She glided over to the pier, and placed herself where he could not fail to notice her. Boris looked at her in amazement. He had never seen a swan with a crown on her head before, but he had heard tales of beautiful princesses turned into swans. “Why,” he said, “you are the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes upon.” And Sadie fluttered her feathers with pleasure at the compliment. “You black beauty,” he went on. “Could it be… could it be that you are a princess? A beautiful African princess. Why, I’m sure you must be. The wicked queen is always turning people into pondlife. It’s even rumoured that she converted that snotty Prince Bertie into a slug or a toad. He’s certainly not been seen or heard of since she got angry with him. Now listen carefully my darling princess swan. This is the longest day of the year. Tonight, at sunset, I will come down to the pond, kiss your beautiful red beak, and turn you back into a princess. Wait for me my lovely. But now I must hurry and buy a diamond ring for our engagement. Till tonight, Adieu! Adieu!” On hearing these words, Sadie almost swooned with excitement. “Don’t listen to him,” said Bertie. “Boris is a well known love-rat. He always cheated at football. He bullied small princelings. He copied my homework. He tried to pinch Princess Beatrice off me. He has no honour. He’ll stop at nothing. Sadie, you must listen to me, you can do so much better than Boris!” But Sadie didn’t listen to Bertie because she had been swept off her wings and was already dreaming of her royal wedding to Prince Boris the Brave. That evening Sadie was waiting for her prince. She sat in the middle of the pond with her crown glinting red and gold in the dying rays of the sun. Boris came down to the pond, sat down by the bank, and pulled on some enormous green galoshes that went up above his knees. Then he started to wade into the the water towards Sadie, but just as he got near, Colin the carp swam under his foot and tripped him up. Boris fell over into the water and emerged spluttering and with green slime in his blond hair. Bertie laughed, but Sadie did not hear him. She wanted to say, “Darling, do not worry, for I will love you forever and day, slime and all.” Boris stumbled towards her. She gently closed her eyes. “Now,” she thought, “Now I will be restored to my true self. Princess Sadie.” He held her head in his hands and kissed her red beak... And nothing happened. So he kissed her again... And still nothing happened. “Oh bother,” he said, and tried one last time. But still, Sadie was a Swan. “Ah, terribly sorry,” said Boris, “But it seems that you aren’t a princess after all. Just a silly old swan. Well I’m just glad nobody saw this little moonlight escapade.” And with that, he turned around and started to wade back out of the pond. “Oh Sadie,” said Bertie, as he tried to comfort her. “I did try to warn you…” but Sadie was disconsolate, which means more than just a bit sad. She didn’t reply. She cast the crown off her head into the water before sliding off to hide in the rushes. “It’s alright for that rat, Boris,” she said to herself. “None of his friends saw him fall face down in the pond. But all the pond life know what a fool I was made to look. Oh the shame of it! I will never live this down.” For two days she stayed put. Bertie brought her the tastiest slime on the pond, and the best bits of bread from Princess Poppy, but nothing would comfort her. Until, that is, three days later a handsome black swan came swooping in to land on the pond with a great... Swooooooosh! Sadie poked her head out of the rushes to see who the new arrival was. “Ah," she said. “He looks rather nice. I think I’ll pop over and be the first to welcome him to our pond." And I’m glad to say that very soon she had forgotten all about Prince Boris. But Colin the Carp kept the crown standing outside his home in the rocks on the bottom of the pond, just to show that he was the most important fish in the water. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn230.txt b/text/sn230.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..61a2d74d8afa613c9ecb17290052cd5e954804ac --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn230.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The hero of the legend is Prince Mai An Tiem who was adopted by the king of Vietnam. His brother grew envious of him, and started to plot against him. If you want to know how watermelons come into it all - well you had better listen to the story. Today watermelons are associated with the New Year in Vietnam - called the Tet festival. People eat roast watermelon seeds at the time of the festival. Many centuries ago, a gale blew across the land of Vietnam. It leaned on the palm trees so that they bent their branches to the ground, and it grabbed red tiles from the roof of the great palace and chucked them across the courtyard. Out at sea, great waves made war on the cliffs, pounding them with all the force of nature. Most of the local fisherman had seen the storm coming from afar, and had pulled their boats well back from the shore, and tied them fast to the ground. But a merchant ship was caught in the storm, and its hull was dashed to splinters on the rocks. Everyone on board was drowned, except for one. By some miracle, the waves carried a basket containing a newly born baby, and deposited it on the beach not far from the great palace. The morning after the storm, a fisherman’s wife was out walking along along the beach and searching through the debris for anything of value. She heard the baby’s cries, and discovered its basket under some torn-off palm leaves. She knew from the swaddling clothes of the child that he belonged to a rich family, and not knowing what else to do, she took him to the palace in search of a reward. When the king heard of this infant who had been saved from the storm by a miracle, he thought that it must be a very special child indeed. He adopted him as his own, and he grew up to be Prince Mai An Tiem. Mai An Tiem proved to be a popular young man, with wisdom and knowledge beyond his years. Often the king’s councillors would consult his opinion before reaching an decision, because he understood the king’s heart and his wishes better than anyone else. His adopted father loved him as much, if not more, than his natural sons. When Mai An Tiem turned twenty years old, the king arranged for him to marry one of his daughters, Princess Ko Ba, who had been his friend since childhood. The celebration was the most extravagant of the king’s reign. So much so, that the king’s own son, Prince Hau, grew envious, for the lavishness of the wedding party far exceeded his own. “My father means to adopt Mai An Tiem as his successor,” he thought to himself. “I must stop this.” So Prince Hau bought a large bribe to the head of the king’s bodyguards, and a slightly smaller bribe to the head of his household. In return for this payment, these officials started to spread ugly rumours about Main An Tiem. The further the rumours spread, the less clear it was where they had begun. Eventually the head bodyguard came to the king and said that Mai An Tiem had tried to recruit his services to overthrow the king. At first the king would not believe this lie against his adopted son, but soon others in the palace, who confused rumour for fact, backed it up. With great sorrow in his heart the king decreed that Mai An Tiem was guilty of plotting treason, and must be banished from the kingdom forevermore. His wife, Princess Ko Ba, swore that she would follow him to the ends of the earth. Soon the couple boarded a ship, which took them far out to sea, and deposited them on a desert island. Mai An Tiem and Ko Ba did not despair, for although they had lost all the privileges, friends, and comforts, they had each other at least. They found a stream with fresh water, and they built a hut for themselves out of leaves and branches. They made nets for fishing and they learned how to climb trees to pick bananas and shake down coconuts. Although everything they ate was fresh and good, their diet lacked anything that you might call a special treat. Ko Ba began to dream of sumptuous banquets. One day, after they had been on the island for several years, Mai An Tiem was walking along the cliffs when he saw a flock of birds, squabbling excitedly amongst themselves. As he drew closer, he saw that the cause of all their excitement were some black seeds. He picked up a handful, and when he reached home, he scattered them on the ground around their hut and along the stream. Many months later, during one of the hottest times of the year, he noticed that some unusual plants had begun to sprout on the spot where he had spread the seeds. Over the coming weeks, they spread like a vine along the ground, and then some fruits started to bud under the leaves. These grew into enormous green fruits, the likes of which he had never seen before. On cutting them open, he discovered within them soft, red flesh. He cut off a piece and popped it into his mouth, and it melted on his tongue like no other. When, a little later, Ko Ba tasted the fruit, she was enormously happy and pleased. It was her first treat in seven years. The couple decided to call the fruit the red melon, and the were careful to spread the seeds and grow a second crop. The red melons – which we know as watermelons – were one of the greatest joys of their life on the island. One day, when Mai An Tiem was sitting on the beach, contemplating the vast ocean, and the way his life had turned out. He idly carved his name on a watermelon, and tossed it into the waves, wondering where it would wash up. Perhaps some one in some far away land would be lucky enough to find the delicious fruit, and would forever more thank the name of Mai An Tiem that was engraved on its skin. Just as the ocean tide had been a friend to Mai An Tiem when he was a baby, so it proved now. The current carried the watermelon back to the Kingdom of Vietnam. A fisherman’s wife found the wondrous fruit on the beach, and she took it to the palace in hope of a reward. When the king saw the name that was carved on the fruit, he marvelled at the reminder of his long banished son. He tasted the red flesh of the fruit inside, and it was so delicious that he thought it was the greatest present that could be bestowed on a king, who was so wealthy that he had every other pleasure that a human being could desire. He thought with love of Mai An Tiem and in his heart he forgave him. Two weeks after that, a ship sent by the king, came to the desert island to bring Mai An Tiem and Ko Ba back to the palace. Eventually Mai An Tiem became king of Vietnam and he ruled wisely to the end of his days. Version by Bertie of Storynory \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn231.txt b/text/sn231.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..74a280beb3913668d44587c29abb3577d67fb6b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn231.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +There was once a lonely fisherman by the name of Troung Chi. Every evening, he sat in the back of his boat, and glided down the river. As he sailed, he played upon his flute that was made of bamboo, and all who heard his music agreed it was the most beautiful sound they had ever heard. Now you might think that such a master of beauty would easily find a girl who wished to marry him. But his face was ugly, and the girls in his village shunned him. And so he lived alone. At this time there lived a young lady who was as rich and beautiful as the fisherman was poor and ugly. However, she too was lonely. Her father was a wealthy lord and he thought the world of his lovely daughter. But as he never wanted to lose her, he forbade her to leave his mansion. And so she spent her days sitting in her room, safe, but alone. However, her day was not empty of distraction. Every evening she sat at her window, which overlooked the river, and waited for the fisherman to slip past. The sweet notes of his flute thrilled her heart and set her imagination on fire. She imagined that she was lying back in the boat and gazing up into the eyes of her strong and handsome fisherman as he played his serenade for her upon his flute. “I have never met him in except in my dreams,” she said to herself, “but his music tells me all I need to know about him. He is beautiful and kind, passionate and loving. And I detect something else in his music. Yes, I feel it so strongly - just like me, he is lonely. We are connected. We are meant to be together. I swear that I shall marry him one day.” But time went by and life followed the same pattern. Her father showed no sign of willingness to release his daughter from her gilded prison. She pleaded with him to summon the boy to the house so that she could look him in the eyes, but he shook his head and said that a fisherman was far beneath the rank of a mandarin’s daughter. He ordered his servants to move her to the other side of the mansion, so that she could no longer be distracted by the cheeky flute-playing fisherman. She lay in her new room and sobbed. She sobbed and sobbed until she became so ill that her father feared for her life. At last he relented. He sent for the fisherman and asked him to sit beside his daughter’s bed and play his flute. If his music proved to be strong enough medicine to cure her, he would be rewarded with a bag of gold. Troung Chi sat by the bed and played. As he played, he felt a mysterious connection with this pour girl who was in a sleep so deep that it was almost like death. His sweet notes reached her inner soul, and the warmth of his love came over her body and revived her. At last she opened her eyes and looked up at him - the fisherman of her dreams. But oh, he was ugly! How frightful! This was not at all as she had imagined. “Take him away!” she screamed. “I don’t want to look at his ugly face!” The boy was escorted from the room. On his way out of the mansion, he met her father’s secretary who offered him a bag of gold. The boy refused it. His heart was broken. He went to his boat, and as he sailed away, he tossed his flute into the water. He was never seen again.', "After Troung Chi had been gone for some days, an old woman who lived in his village, went to look inside his hut. She found that his only possession was a beautiful cup. The old lady was wise, and she felt sure that the Mandarin's daughter would be regretting her behaviour. She took the cup to the mansion and asked for it to be given to the girl in remembrance of Troung Chi whose music had saved her from dying. She had been correct. The young girl was indeed sorely missing Troung Chi and his lovely flute music. Now that she held his cup in her hands, she raised it to her lips and drank cool water from it. Suddenly she was in a dream. His sweet music filled her heart and she could hear him just as if he was in the room with her. Oh how she knew that she loved him, even though he was ugly! Then suddenly the cup slipped from her hands and smashed on the floor. The music stopped. She opened her eyes and saw a bird flying out of her window and soaring over the river. Troung Chi’s soul was free and happy because he had finally won her love. The girl never married. For the rest of her life she remembered the boatman’s tender love and his haunting music.", 'And that was the story of the Ugly Boatman, read by me, Natasha, and adapted by Bertie, for Storynory.com. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn232.txt b/text/sn232.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..551ce65d9c0e44564b71eb9bec2947efd5698ccb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn232.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +If you like SCARY STORIES, then this one is for you. We are putting it out for Halloween, but you can listen any time of year IF YOU DARE! Baba Yaga is a famous witch of the East. She has spooked and scared little children across Eastern Europe for many a year. This is a her most famous story. A wicked Step-Mother sends Vasilisa to visit the witch in her hut in the woods to ask for some lights. She’s pretty sure that that will be the last she ever sees of her stepdaughter – but is she right? Version for Storynory by Bertie. Somewhere in the eastern part of Europe, where it gets bitterly cold in winter, there is a dark forest. If you are ever brave, foolish or ignorant enough to go wandering through that forest, there is a good chance that you might come across a peculiar house. It’s a wooden hut, but it’s like no other that you have ever seen, for it stands on giant chicken legs – and quite often it walks about, just like a monstrous farm yard bird. This hut is the home of Baba Yaga. I don’t advise that you knock at the door of Baba Yaga’s hut, no matter how much you have lost your way through the forest – for Baba Yaga is a witch. On the edge of Baba Yaga’s forest, there is a little village, and everyone who lives there knows about the strange hut and the lady who lives inside it. They know her, and they fear her, for it has long been rumoured that she likes to eat children. A long time ago, a man lived in this village with his beautiful daughter, who was called Vasilisa. The girl’s mother had sadly died some years before the start of this story. Before she died, she gave Vasilisa a wonderful gift – It was a little rag doll that did not look so different from any other. The girl’s mother told Vasilisa that she should take special care of the doll. Every night she must feed it a little milk and a little biscuit, and so long as she did so, the doll would always be ready to help her – no matter how much trouble she found herself in. Vasilisa did just as her mother bid her. Every night the little rag doll sat up and drank a little milk, and ate a little biscuit before smiling at Vasilisa and then going back to sleep. As time went by, the girl’s father decided to marry again. His second wife had two daughters of her own, neither of whom could touch Vasilisa for beauty or sweetness of character. In fact, they were jealous of Vasilisa and they hated her terribly. So long as Vasilisa’s father remained at home, the stepmother and stepsisters had to pretend that they liked her, but every now and then one of the sisters would whisper in Vasilisa’s ear, “Just you wait until your dear papa leaves us alone with you. Then you’ll see!” When Vasilisa had recently passed her sixteenth birthday, her father said that he had to go away on a journey that would last at least a month. Vasilisa begged him to take her with him, but he just laughed and said he was travelling on business, and the girl would find the journey tiresome and dull. The first night after the father had left, the stepmother gathered the three girls together in the parlour and spoke as such: “Now my dears, I have a little task for each of you. “Tanya,” that was the oldest, “go in my room, please my dear, and sew a button on my red dress. Katya,” the youngest, “go to the kitchen table and roll some pastry so that it’s nice and flat. And Vasilisa dear, go to Baba Yaga’s hut in the forest and ask her to lend us some lights. Now run along sweetheart. Don’t waste any time. We don’t want you to get caught in the dark now do we.” The stepmother shooed Vasilisa out of the house so fast that she hardly had time to put on her hat and gloves. She walked forlornly to the corner of the street and took the little doll out of her coat pocket where it had been sleeping. “Oh little doll,” she said. “My mother told me that if I fed and looked after you, you would be ready to help me if I was ever in trouble. Well I have fed and looked after you. Now I’m in terrible trouble. I must go to Baba Yaga, and everyone knows that she is a dreadfully wicked witch. So please tell me – what am I to do?” The little doll looked up at Vasilisa and said: “Be as brave as you are beautiful. Go to Baba Yaga’s hut and no harm will come to you.” Vasilisa mustered up all her courage and walked down the path that led through the woods to the hut of Baba Yaga. After a while, the young girl heard the sound of galloping hooves coming up behind her, and she stepped off the road to let a horse ridden by a rider in a blazing red cloak shoot past her. “I wonder who that was?” Thought Vasilisa before setting off on a her way once more. A little further on, she once again heard the sound of galloping hooves, and this time a rider in a cloak of dazzling white sped past her and down the road that led to Baba Yaga’s hut. Some time later, a third horse shot by. Its rider wore a cloak that was as black as night. After about an hour of walking, Vasilisa came to a clearing in the forest. Although it was now getting quite dark, she had no trouble seeing – for this neck of the woods was lit by skulls with blazing eyes. The skulls were mounted on top of a high fence. Beyond the fence, she saw the strange hut that stood on chicken legs. It turned around to face her, and it seemed to Vasilisa that the hut was looking at her. Then the chicken legs began to kneel and the hut lowered to the ground. The door creaked open. Baba Yaga’s nose was so long and bony that it appeared through the door before the rest of her. A moment or two later the nose was followed by a tall, skinny old woman holding a broom stick. Vasilissa was so frightened that her legs would not obey her when she told them to run. The old lady came towards her – but she did not walk – her feet flew just a few inches above the ground. “Well child,” she said, “Did the cat get your tongue? Or are you just badly brought up? Speak Child! Spit out your name and your business here! I haven’t got all night to hover around while you tremble and gibber like an idiot!” For a few moments Vasilisa’s lips quivered so much that no proper words would come out of her mouth, just a kind of “ah, ah-ah,” but she then remembered the doll’s words that no harm would come to her, and eventually she found courage to speak clearly. “Good Ma’am,” she said. “It is only me, little Vasilisa. My stepmother sent me to the forest to borrow a light from Baba Yaga.” “Did she now?” Said Baba Yaga thoughtfully. “Well I am Baba Yaga, but you may call me Babushka.” Vasilisa brightened a little at this, for Babushka is a kindly name that means “Grandma.” Baba Yaga went on: “Now come with me into my hut. I will give you some simple tasks to do. If you are not lazy and you complete your work like a good girl, then I will give you the light that you ask for and let you go free. But if you do not manage these simple tasks I shall cook you in my oven and eat you for my dinner! Ha Ha Ha!” She cackled. “How do you like that for an offer?” To tell you the truth, Vasilisa did not like it at all, but she had faith that all would be well, that she would complete the tasks, and return with the light, and so she curtsied and said, “I like it well, dear Babushka,” and she followed the old lady as she floated back to the door of her hut and called out: “Locks, unlock!” The doors creaked open, and then shut again behind Vasilisa as she stepped inside. The hut was surprisingly roomy, but a large part of it was taken up by a huge oven. Vasilisa had to hold in a scream, because the house started to rise up on its chicken legs and move about. She realised that there would be no escape unless Baba Yaga let her go. The witch sat down at the table and gestured to the larder. “Fetch me my supper, dear,” she said. “Yes, Babushka,” replied Vasilisa, and she brought over some bread and cheese for the old lady. “Ah well,” said Baba Yaga. “Soon I shall be enjoying a nice plate of roast meat, thinly sliced and pink in the middle.” With those words she pinched Vasilisa’s arm. “Now tomorrow my dear, you must complete my little task. When I am away from the hut, you must tidy the yard, clean the hut, and cook pumpkin soup for my supper. Can you manage that?” “Why yes, Babushka, I can.” said Vasilisa, who was relieved that the task did not sound by any means beyond her ability. “That is good,” said Baba Yaga, “and when you have finished doing that you can sort out all the kitchen pots and pans.” Baba Yaga ate her bread and cheese and drank a tankard of frothy brown ale before falling asleep on top of a thick fur which was strewn above the stove, the warmest place in the hut. The hut continued to move around and Vasilisa felt queasy. She certainly had no appetite herself, but before she lay down for the night, she did not forget to feed her doll a few crumbs of bread and some drops of milk. When the rag doll had finished her supper, Vasilisa asked her: “Oh dear, what have I done? How shall I ever get out of here?” The Doll replied: “Have courage and keep faith and all will be well – for Baba Yaga is unable to tell a lie and she is bound to keep her promise.” The next morning, Baba Yaga arose from her bed on top of the stove, and drank another tankard of ale before flying up the chimney and onto the roof. Vasilisa looked out of the window and saw the witch flying away above the trees, but this time she was riding what looked like a giant mortar. A mortar, by the way, is like a strong wooden bowl, and you can use it for cooking. You put some herbs or spices in there, and crush and grind them with a stick called a pestle. This is what the witch was flying in – only it was much bigger than a usual mortar. A giant pestle was what the old lady was holding in her hand, and using as a rudder to guide her flight. Vasilisa gazed at the witch until she was out of site, and then she started to clean and to cook. She managed to get everything spick and span, and get the soup on the cooker by midday, but now she faced an impossible task. How could she possibly pick the black peas out of a sack of white ones? Why, there must have been thousands, if not millions of peas in the sack. She heard a noise outside the hut. “Oh, Baba Yaga must be back early. Now I’m done for!” She exclaimed – but when she looked out of the window she saw not Baba Yaga, but the white horseman who had over-taken her on her way to the hut. He galloped around the fence of the compound and then was off again into the woods. Vasilisa sighed and wished that he would only come and rescue her, whoever he might be. Then when she turned around from the window she saw that all the peas had been sorted into two piles – one black and one white. Her task was done. That evening, after Baba Yaga flew back home from whatever business she had been on, the old witch could not hide her surprise at all that her guest had managed to achieve the task in one day. “I see that you are good little worker my dear,” she said. “Well in that case, tomorrow you can make pea soup and fetch water from the stream to fill up the tank. Here, use this bucket.” What she handed to Vasilisa was not a bucket, but a sieve, and the poor girl wondered how she would ever manage to use it to fetch water. Still that night, when the little rag doll urged her not to feel despair, she knew in her heart that something wonderful might happen to help her – and it did. For as she stood by the stream holding the sieve in her hand, the red horseman rode by, took it from her and swept over to the hut where he hurled it through the open window. When Vasilisa returned she found that the tank was filled with fresh water. That evening Baba Yaga dipped her bony finger in the tank and tasted a drop of the fresh water. She said, “Indeed you are a hard working girl. Let’s see if you are clever too. Tonight you can stay up and count the number of stars in the sky. If you tell me the right number in the morning, you can take your light and go free, but if your answer is wrong, even if you tell me one star too many or too few, then I shall have you for my breakfast.” That night Vasilisa gazed out of the window at the sky and tried to count the stars – 1,2,3, 5… But by the time she reached 100 stars she was no longer sure whether or not she was counting the same ones again, and she had to start all over again. It did not help that the hut kept moving around so that the view kept on changing. Eventually, Vasilisa began to sob quietly. She took out her doll and said: “Oh dear little doll, who will come to the aid of poor little Vasilisa this time? I cannot guess the number of stars in the sky, and in the morning the witch shall surely eat me.” “Do not worry said the doll. Have courage and keep faith, and all will be well.” And it was – for at the midnight hour, the black horseman came riding up to the window where Vasilisa was sitting and he whisper a number to her as if in a dream. It was a very big number, but I cannot tell you what it was, for it is a secret, but it was the exact number of stars in the sky that he told her, and in the morning, when Baba Yaga stepped with her bony legs onto the floor, Vasilisa said: “Good morning Babushka, shall I tell you the number of stars now?” Baba Yaga yawned and said: “Go on child, tell me. But you had better not be wrong – for if you are, I shall eat you.” Vasilisa told the number to Baba Yaga, who let out a terrible cry like: “Ha!” Her eyes blazed like those of the skulls on the fence surrounding her hut. “Who told you that?” She demanded so fiercely that Vasilisa sank back. Baba Yaga picked up a plate and threw it across the room so that it smashed against the wall. Then she picked up a knife and Vasilisa was sure she meant to kill her. “But Babushka,” she said. “You promised that if I told you the number correctly I could take a light and go free.” Baba Yaga froze for a moment, and the fierce glare of her eyes lessened somewhat. “Ah yes,” she said more calmly. “So I did. I suppose it was morning and day that helped you with the other tasks I set you?” Vasilisa nodded, for she now understood that the three horsemen were morning day and night. “Then you are a good girl,” said Baba Yaga. “For if Morning, Day and Night choose to help you, that means that your spirit is in harmony with the universe. I will do you no harm. Wait here while I go on my business. I have no tasks for you today. Tonight you shall return home with a light.” That evening, after Baba Yaga flew home on her mortar, she took Vasilisa out into the courtyard and gave her one of the skulls with blazing eyes. “Take this,” she said. “It will light up your stepmother and your two stepsisters very well.” Vasilisa took the skull and returned back down the path to her village. She expected that her stepmother would have found a light by now, but in fact the house was not lit. Instead her relatives were sitting in complete darkness. She stepped into the house. The skull lit up the inside as bright as day. “I’m home,” called out Vasilisa. But she received no reply, for as soon as the light fell on her stepmother and sisters, they turned to dust. Vasilisa went to live with a kindly old lady in the village until her father returned from his business. When he came back, he thought that his wife and stepdaughters must have run away. He did not miss them much. He lived happily with his beautiful daughter, Vasilisa, until one day a prince came riding by and caught sight of her. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he had no hesitation in asking her to marry him, which she did, and they lived happily ever after. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn233.txt b/text/sn233.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..208515629ccc3aa2162de46d9a37bb047a146290 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn233.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This is a story from Russia about a boy who learned the language of the birds. As it turns out, his parents are not so nice, but he is an excellent son. Some time in Russia, there lived a merchant and his wife. Their only son was a kind hearted boy called Ivan. This boy loved to listen to the song of a nightingale which the family kept as a pet, or some might say as a prisoner, inside a gilded cage. “What is the meaning of her song?” he often wondered, “It is so lovely, yet so sad.” One day, his father heard Ivan asking this question out aloud, and he agreed, “Yes I too long to understand her beautiful music. I would give half my wealth to the one who could teach me the language of the birds.” His father’s words made a big impression on Ivan. Not long after this, he was out for a walk in the woods, when the weather became bitter. The rain was trying to turn into snow, but not quite succeeding, and instead fell to earth in large cold drops, plop, plop plop - most unpleasant. In the midst of this downpour, his kean ears caught a flustered sound up in the branches above his head. Little voices were crying out “tweet tweet tweet!” quite pitifully. He looked up and saw a nest where the heads of baby birds were bobbing up and down and crying in the cold rain. Ivan felt most sorry for the tiny creatures. Instead of hurrying home, he climbed up the tree and spread the flaps of his kaftan over the nest to protect the fledglings from the rain. This Kaftan was a coat that his father had given him: it was embroidered with gold thread, and not the sort of garment you would would choose to go climbing trees in. He waited there some time until the mother bird returned. When she saw that the kind boy had saved her young ones from catching chills, she was filled with thanks. “Young man,” she said in good Russian, “you have done me a service. It so happens that I have magical powers and I can give you a fine reward. Say what you want, and it shall be yours.” The boy replied, “Gracious bird, as it happens, there is one skill that I would dearly love to posses. Could you please teach me the language of the birds?” “Most certainly,” replied the mother bird, and they arranged that he should visit her every day for a month and learn the words, the grammar, and the tunes of the birds. Fortunately, the boy had a good ear for music, for birds communicate in song. He learned his lessons well, did his homework, and by the end of a month could understand everything that the birds told one another. Soon after this, Ivan sat at home on his usual couch, listening to the nightingale in his gilded cage. Now he understood the meaning of the beautiful bird’s song, and felt overwhelming sad. His parents could not fail to notice his unhappy face, and his mother asked, “Dear Van-ooshka (that was the pet name she used for him), why are fat tears rolling down your cheeks? Are you suffering from a love that is not returned?”', "“No mother, I am still too young for love. I have learned the language of birds, and now I understand the meaning of our pet nightingale's song, and that is why I am so sad.”", 'His father was intrigued by this and said: “Well, Ivan, tell us the meaning of our beloved bird’s song.” “He sings, dear father,” said Ivan simply, naively, and foolishly, “that one day Ivan shall be a prince and and his father shall be his servant.” Ivan’s parents had not been expecting such an insolent speech. They wondered greatly about what had become of their polite young son. Perhaps listening to the birds so much had made him quite bird-brained. Indeed, they no longer trusted him. Not long after that, the boy’s mother made up some warm milk for Ivan, and mixed it with a strong sleeping potion that would be sure to put him under for a sound night’s sleep. When he was completely out, and snoring loudly, his parents carried him down to the shore, and by the light of the moon, they put him into a little boat and pushed him out to sea. They thought that he would drown and nobody would be the wiser. But it was not Ivan’s fate to drown at sea. The currents brought the sleeping boy in his tiny boat alongside a ship. It was a starry night, and the watchman saw Ivan lying in his fragile craft, at the mercy of the next big wave that would surely tip him into the water. He called to his fellow sailors for help, and one of them used a rope to climb down the side of the ship Into Ivan’s boat, where he smacked the boy around the chops until he awoke. The sailors then hauled both of them up to to the safety of the deck. In this way, by the kindness of the ship’s crew, Ivan’s life was saved. The next morning, Ivan sat up on the deck wrapped in a warm blanket. A flock of cranes flew overhead, and he tilted his head to catch what they were saying. This is what he heard: “Quick, quick, fly as fast as you can. Head for the shore. A terrible storm is on its way!” The boy tried to warn the sailors of what what the birds had said, and urged them to head for the port before the storm ripped the ship to pieces. But the sailors laughed, thinking that the poor lad must have caught too much sun while he was adrift at sea. But the storm did come, and it was every bit as fierce as Ivan had warned, and the ship took a mighty battering from the wind and the waves that did it much damage. A few days after the storm had passed, a flock of swans flew over the ship. Ivan heard what they were saying: “Over there is a ship full of pirates who plan to do much mischief.” Ivan reported what he had heard to the captain, who this time took him seriously. He ordered the crew to turn and head for a safe harbour. The swift pirate ship began to chase them. They raced towards the port, and the boat carrying Ivan and the good sailors reached safety just in time. Now it so happened, they had arrived at a town ruled over by a king, who was extremely troubled by three crows. These noisy and noxious birds sat on the window sill of the king’s bedroom and cawed day and night. Servants had tried to shoo them away with brooms, and soldiers had tried to shoot them down with arrows, but all to no avail. Now the king offered a reward - his daughter’s hand in marriage and half his kingdom to the one who could free him of this trouble. But he warned that any time-wasters risked losing their heads. Ivan heard about this problem from a little bird, and he understood that this was a golden opportunity. He made his way to the castle and offered his service in the matter of the three crows. The king’s chamberlain showed him to the window where the birds sat and squawked. Ivan listened to what they were saying and told the chamberlain, “There are three crows, a father crow, a mother crow, and a son crow. The mother and father are seeking a divorce. They have come here to ask the king to judge who the son should follow: the mother or the father. Until they have received judgement in this matter, they will not leave.” When they chamberlain relayed this problem to the king he ruled: “The son crow must stay with his mother.” As soon as he made this decision, the father flew off on his own with an ill-tempered “CAWWWWW!’ and the mother and son left in another direction. The king was delighted that the crows had finally cleared off from his window sill. He gladly gave the hand in marriage of his youngest daughter to the boy who understood the secret language of birds. As Ivan’s fortune went up, little did he know that his father’s star was falling. His wife had gone to a better world, and while he was grieving he also lost his fortune when pirates attacked a boat carrying all his merchandise. The old man became a wandering beggar, dependent on the kindness and generosity of strangers. His travels brought him to the castle where Prince Ivan was living happily with his princess. There the old man came before the young prince, and begged for alms. His sight was failing him, and he did not recognise that His Majesty was none other than his own son. “Old man, what may I do for you?” asked Prince Ivan. “Be so kind, as to let me stay here and work as one of your servants,” said the old man, “for once I was rich, but now I have lost everything, my dear wife, my honest son, my fortune, and finally my pride.” “Dear father,” said Ivan, “you once doubted the song of a nightingale, but now you see that my translation was true.” At first the old man was puzzled, and then stunned, and then frightened. He knelt before his son and begged forgiveness. But wealth and good fortune had not changed Ivan. He was the same good hearted boy that he ever was. He stepped down from his throne to embrace his father with the words, “Papa, I wish for nothing more than to love, comfort and support you in your old age.” And Prince Ivan was true to his word. And that is the traditional story, from Russia, of the Boy who spoke to the birds, adapted by Bertie, and read for storynory.com by me, Natasha. You may like to know that we have loads of stories and myths from all over the world at Storynory, so do drop by and listen to some soon. And if you follow us on the podcast please leave us a nice comment in iTunes or any of the podcast apps. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn234.txt b/text/sn234.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f162a9170967938ecd83000c27026e650e1d1bf9 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn234.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +In Chinese astrology, each year is named after an animal, and if you are born in that year, you take some of that animal's characteristics. This is the story of how each year took its name, and it also explains why there is no year of the cat, and why cats hate rats so much.", "We thought you might like to look up your own year and find out who you really are! So we've included a chart in the text.", 'One day, the Lord Buddha called all the animals to a meeting. He told them that he had decided to pick the 13 most faithful animals and reward each of them with their own year. As soon as the animals heard this, they began to quarrel among themselves about who should have the honour of the first year, the second, the third, and so on. The Buddha decided to settle this squabble with a contest. He gathered the 13 animals on the bank of a gushing river, and told them that they must swim across to the other side. The first to arrive would have the honour of the first year, and the second to arrive would have the second, and in this way, the order of all the years would be decided. The night before the contest, the rat went to see his best friend the cat to discuss the race. They both agreed that the contest was unfair to them, as both of them hated water, and neither were strong swimmers. So the pair went to see the Ox who was very large and a strong swimmer. He was also extremely good-natured, and he agreed to carry the rat and the cat on his back. The next morning, most of the animals were up early in time to see the dawn spread her rosy fingers across the river. They limbered up for the race, and very noisy about it they were too! The Ox looked around for his friends, but he could not catch sight of the cat or the rat. So he stood by the bank of the river and was about to jump in with a great splash when the pair sprang out of the reeds and landed on his back. In this way, they set off into the deep, swirling waters of the river. Fortunately, the Ox was powerful enough to swim across the current without any trouble, and soon the far bank was in sight. The cat crouched on the Ox’s head and swished his tail. The rat could see that his friend was getting ready to leap onto the bank ahead of them and take the first prize. He became so cross about this, that he pushed the cat into the water. Then he himself jumped onto the bank and won the honour of the first year for himself. The Ox lumbered on, reached the bank just after the rat, and the second year was named after him. The Tiger was like a big cat, and hated water, but he had powerful muscles and managed to come in third. He was followed by the rabbit - who although he hated getting his ears wet - was very determined, and was helped by the dragon. The dragon was very concerned about the water getting into his nose and putting out his fire, but he managed to keep his head about water and took the fifth year. The horse was about to come in sixth, but he reared back to avoid stepping on the snake who slithered in just ahead of him. So the snake was sixth and the horse was seventh. Next came a raft with the sheep, monkey, and the rooster who took the eighth, ninth, and tenth places. Quite a while later, the dog paddled ashore and shook himself so that he sprayed all the others who had just managed to get dry. The dog took the eleventh year. Finally, after a long, long time, the pig made it to the bank. He had slept in late, and only just made it to become the 12th animal of the Chinese Zodiac. And what became of the cat? He was swept downstream by the strong current of the river, and he very nearly drowned. Eventually, he was washed up onto the bank where they had all started, and he shivered and shook with cold and rage. And so there are 12, not 13 years in the Chinese calendar, and there is no year named after the cat. And if you’ve ever wondered why cats hate rats so much - now you know! And that’s the story of how the Chinese years and signs of the Zodiac came to be named after 12 animals. What year were you born in? If you would like to see, drop by at Storynory.com where Bertie has written out a list of all the recent years and their characteristics in the text for this story. Animal Astrology \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn235.txt b/text/sn235.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..dbbc9e04334ffc6b79109ff420a6331a7d693a8d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn235.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Why Cats and Dogs Are Enemies A Story From China, Told by A Mouse. There was a house that I used to visit for my super sometimes. I knew the way in very well - there was a tiny little door by the back window, so small that you would probably never notice it, but I’m a mouse, and I can squeeze through the teeniest of entrances. To tell you the truth, the joint was going down hill. Every time I visited, there were fewer and fewer crumbs. It was hardly worth going there anymore and besides there were dangers. They had a cat. This cat was getting skinnier and skinnier, and I should have known that he would be on the lookout for a tasty morsel such as me. This is how I got caught. I wasn’t paying enough attention. I got distracted. Although I have a twitchy nose, I’m not nosy in the other sense of the word. I like to mind my own business. But one night, I could not help overhearing an argument. The man and the woman of the house were shouting so loud. “It’s all your fault we’re starving,” said the woman in a high pitched voice that sounded most distressed. “You shouldn’t have gone and sold my mother’s ring behind my back. All you got for it was an old horse that went lame. Now we’ve got nothing, nothing.” “What’s your mother’s ring got to do with it?” asked the man. “Because I told you a thousand times, the person who wears that ring will never go hungry.” “Well I don’t believe in that magic and nonsense,” replied the man “You don’t believe in anything I say. That’s why you are so thin your trousers keep falling down around your knees.” Ooh, that was quite an argument. But now I understood why the house was getting so poor. The man had sold the magic ring that kept the larder stocked up. I wish I had a ring like that, I thought. It was all so interesting that I hung around for a fraction too long. That was my big mistake. Bam! Everything went black. “Am I dead or alive?” I thought. But I soon knew that I was alive because I heard a voice that I recognised. The dog, a scratchy mutt who smelt like a rotting old blanket, was saying: “Hey cat, hang on, don’t eat that mouse just yet.” “Why shouldn’t I?” whined the cat. “I haven’t had a decent meal in days.” “Neither have I,” said the dog, “But the mouse will only satisfy your tum for a few hours. Let’s be smart about this. He can help us fill our stomachs, and our masters’, for the rest of our days.” “Starvation has robbed your good sense,” said the cat. “This is a mouse, not a hen. He can’t lay eggs.” “No, no no,” woofed the dog, “That’s not what I mean. The chief thing about a mouse is that err… he’s small…” “Yes…..” said the cat. “And he can slip through the tiniest of holes…” “So…” said the cat. “And if we take him to the house where the magic ring is now, he can slip inside and get it for us. He’ll do this for you, because his life depends on it. I know where that house is. The magpie told me. Let’s head off straight away.” The cat saw that the dog was not quite as stupid as he looked. He held me by my tale in his mouth and sprang through the window. The dog followed. Off they both ran down the alleyway. I was bouncing around all over the place, I can tell you, it was the most horrid way to travel - but hey, I was alive, and that’s usually the main thing. We left the town and reached a river. The dog said, “Right-oh, in we go!” But the cat put me down and held me with a paw. “Not so fast,” she said, “I haven’t learnt to swim.” “Never mind that, “ woofed the dog, “Jump on my back and I’ll carry you over.” So “Splash!” In we all went. The dog paddled to the other side, and from there it was not far to the house where the ring was to be found. Inside we could see a man and woman, both plump, with well fed, happy expressions on their faces.The dog said: “We’ve come to the right place. Let’s hope she takes the ring off when she goes to bed.” The cat prowled round the house looking for a way in. There’s usually one, if you search hard enough. We found a tiny little hole. “In you go,” she said, “And bring back the ring if you value your pathetic little mousey life.” In I went, still glad to be alive, but not too optimistic about finding anything. I can sniff out crumbs, but mice aren’t equipped with a nose for gold you know. Fortunately, I saw it glinting in the moonlight. The lady had left it on the table with her other jewellry. They were pretty rich. The man was probably some sort of government official. I seized the ring in my mouth, and slipped back out again. “Here it is,” I said, “I hope you are as good as your word.” “Say goodbye to this cruel world, little mouse,” replied the cat, with claws flashing in the moonlight. I trembled for my life, but the dog woofed: “Stop right there, cat. We gave our word, and we must keep it. A promise is a promise. We returned to the river, and swam back as before. Soon we were in the town. This time, the cat went over the rooftops - while the dog ran down the alleyways. I went home to my nest for a good sleep. Now there is a follow up to this story. A few weeks later, I was going past the house where the cat and the dog lived. The light was on, and I looked through the window. The human couple were having a feast, and the cat, had put on weight. “So,” I thought, “It’s true. The owners of the magic ring will never go hungry.” I too deserved a reward for my daring part in the rescue of the ring, and I decided to slip inside and take some crumbs. But round the back, I found the dog tied up, more miserable than ever. That’s the story of why cats and dogs are enemies, a traditional tale adapted for Storynory.com by Bertie, and read by me, Natasha. Bertie’s asked me to tell you that there are loads of other stories from all over the world so do drop by soon and listen to some at storynory.cpm And you can always leave a comment and say hello to us. And if you listen to our latest episodes via the podcast on iTunes or using our app, please find a moment to leave a comment in iTunes and say something nice about us. For now, \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn236.txt b/text/sn236.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2bcc6bef26ceab0028883aae68613888a856c9cc --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn236.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +These days we adapt many of the traditional tales ourselves, but this one is taken more or less straight from the English text of B. H. Chamberlain who published a number of Japanese stories in the 1880s. Well, one day he went out in his boat to fish. Instead of catching any fish, what do you think he caught? Why, a great big tortoise! It had a hard shell and such a funny wrinkled old face and a tiny tail. Now I must tell you something which you very likely don’t know; and that is that tortoises always live a thousand years - or at least Japanese tortoises do. Urashima thought to himself; “A fish would do for my dinner just as well as this tortoise - in fact, better. Why should I go and kill the poor thing, and prevent it from enjoying itself for another nine hundred and ninety-nine years? No, no! I won’t be so cruel. I am sure mother wouldn’t like me to.” With these words, he threw the tortoise back into the sea. The next thing that happened was that Urashima went to sleep in his boat - for it was one of those hot summer days when almost everybody enjoys a nap of an afternoon. As he slept, there came up from beneath the waves a beautiful girl, who got into the boat and said, "I am the daughter of the Sea God, and I live with my father in the Dragon Palace, beyond the waves. It was not a tortoise that you caught just now, and so kindly threw back into the water instead of killing it; it was myself. My father, the Sea God, had sent me to see whether you were good or bad." “We now know that you are a good, kind boy who doesn’t like to do cruel things; and so I have come to fetch you. You shall marry me, if you like, and we will live happily together for a thousand years in the Dragon Palace beyond the deep blue sea.” Urashima took one oar, and the Sea God’s daughter took the other, and they rowed, and they rowed, and they rowed until at last they came to the Dragon Palace where the Sea God lived and ruled as king over all the dragons, the tortoises and the fishes. Oh dear! What a lovely place it was! The walls of the palace were of coral, the trees had emeralds for leaves and rubies for berries, the fishes’ scales were of silver, and the dragons’ tails of solid gold. Just think of the very most beautiful, glittering things that you have ever seen, and put them all together, and then you will know what this palace looked like. It all belonged to Urashima - for was he not the son-in-law of the Sea God, the husband of the lovely Dragon Princess? Well, they lived on happily for three years, wandering about every day among the beautiful trees with emerald leaves and ruby berries. But one morning Urashima said to his wife, “I am very happy here. Still I want to go home and see my father and mother, and brothers and sisters. Just let me go for a short time, and I’ll soon be back again.” “I don’t like you to go,” said she, “I am very much afraid that something dreadful will happen. However, if you will go, there is no help for it. Only you must take this box, and be very careful not to open it. If you open it, you will never be able to come back here.” Urashima promised to take great care of the box, and not to open it on any account. Then, getting into his boat, he rowed off, and at last landed on the shore of his own country. What had happened while he had been away? Where had his father’s cottage gone to? What had become of the village where he used to live? The mountains indeed were there as before, but the trees on them had been cut down. The little brook that ran close by his father’s cottage was still running, but there were no women washing clothes in it anymore. It seemed very strange that everything should have changed so much in three short years. As two men chanced to pass along the beach, Urashima went up to them and said, “Can you tell me please where Urashima’s cottage, that used to stand here, has been moved to?” “Urashima?” Said they. “Why, it was four hundred years ago that he was drowned while out fishing. His parents, his brothers, and their grandchildren are all dead long ago. It is an old, old story. How can you be so foolish as to ask after his cottage? It fell to pieces hundreds of years ago.” Then it suddenly flashed across Urashima’s mind that the Sea God’s Palace beyond the waves, with its coral walls and its ruby fruits and its dragons with tails of solid gold, must be part of a fairy land, and that one day there was probably as long as a year in this world, so that his three years in the Sea God’s palace had really been hundreds of years. Of course there was no use in staying at home - now that all his friends were dead and buried. Even the village had passed away. So Urashima was in a great hurry to get back to his wife, the Dragon Princess beyond the sea. Which was the way? He couldn’t find it, with no one to show it to him. “Perhaps,” thought he, “if I open the box which she gave me, I shall be able to find the way.” So he disobeyed her orders not to open the box — or perhaps he forgot them, foolish boy that he was. Anyhow, he opened the box; and what do you think came out of it? Nothing but a white cloud which floated away over the sea. Urashima shouted to the cloud to stop, rushed about and screamed with sorrow - for he remembered now what his wife had told him - and how, after opening the box, he should never be able to go to the Sea God’s palace again. Soon he could neither run nor shout any more. Suddenly his hair grew as white as snow, his face got wrinkled, and his back bent like that of a very old man. His breath stopped short, and he fell down dead on the beach. Poor Urashima! He died because he had been foolish and disobedient. If only he had done as he was told, he might have lived another thousand years. Would you like to go and see the Dragon Palace beyond the waves, where the Sea God lives and rules as king over the dragons and the tortoises and the fishes, where the trees have emeralds for leaves and rubies for berries, where the fishes’ tails are of silver and the dragons’ tails all of solid gold? \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn237.txt b/text/sn237.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..bf5128955e1991870829fddfb7e06dec0ecc28fa --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn237.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This traditional story from Japan is about the time a Samurai warrior challenged a tea master to a duel. It shows how if you are the master of yourself, you can be the master of anything. The steadfastness of the Japanese character has been much on display during the aftermath of the recent Tsunami. People all over the world have been filled with admiration for the dignity and manner in which the Japanese nation has endured so much suffering. We hope that you will enjoy this story which is full of wisdom about how to be the master of yourself in the face of great danger. Duration 12.32. !--more--> Such self-control is not confined to the fighters of Japan, however. The Master of the Japanese tea ceremony performs his peaceful duties with just the same concentration and focus of attention, as this story from Ancient Japan shows. Several centuries ago, a tea master worked in the service of Lord Yamanouchi. No one else performed the way of the tea to such perfection. The timing and the grace of his every move; from the unfurling of the mat, to the setting out of the cups, and the sifting of the green leaves, was beauty itself. His master was so pleased with his servant, that he bestowed upon him the rank and robes of a samurai warrior. When Lord Yamanouchi travelled, he always took his tea master with him, so that others could appreciate the perfection of his art. On one occasion, he went on business to the great city of Edo, which we now know as Tokyo. When evening fell, the tea master and his friends set out to explore the pleasure district, known as the floating world. As they turned the corner of a wooden pavement, they found themselves face to face with two samurai warriors. The tea master bowed, and politely step into the gutter to let the fearsome ones pass. Although one warrior went by, the other remained rooted to the spot. He stroked a long black whisker that decorated his face, gnarled by the sun, and scarred by the sword. His eyes pierced through the tea maker’s heart like an arrow. He did not quite know what to make of the fellow who dressed like a fellow samurai, yet who would willingly step aside into a gutter. What kind of warrior was this? He looked him up and down. Where were broad shoulders and the thick neck of a man of force and muscle? Instinct told him that this was no soldier. He was an impostor who by ignorance or impudence had donned the uniform of a samurai. He snarled, “Tell me, oh strange one, where are you from and what is your rank?” The tea master bowed once more. “It is my honour to serve Lord Yamanouchi and I am his master of the way of the tea.” “A tea-sprout who dares to wear the robes of samurai?” Exclaimed the rough warrior. The tea master’s lip trembled. He pressed his hands together and said, "My Lord has honoured me with the rank of a samurai and he requires me to wear these robes." The warrior stamped the ground like a raging a bull and exclaimed, “He who wears the robes of a samurai must fight like a samurai. I challenge you to a duel. If you die with dignity, you will bring honour to your ancestors. And if you die like a dog, at least you will be no longer insult the rank of the samurai!” By now, the hairs on the tea master’s neck were standing on end like the feet of a helpless centipede that has been turned upside down. He imagined he could feel that edge of the samurai blade against his skin. He thought that his last second on earth had come. The corner of the street was no place for a duel with honour, however. Death is a serious matter, and everything has to be arranged just so. The samurai’s friend spoke to the tea master’s friends, and gave them the time and the place for the mortal contest. When the fierce warriors had departed, the tea master’s friends fanned his face and treated his faint nerves with smelling salts. They steadied him as they took him into a nearby place of rest and refreshment. There they assured him that there was no need to fear for his life. Each one of them would give freely of money from his own purse, and they would collect a handsome enough sum to buy the warrior off and make him forget his desire to fight a duel. If by chance the warrior was not satisfied with the bribe, then surely Lord Yamanouchi would give generously to save his much-prized master of the way of the tea. These generous words brought no cheer to the tea master. He thought of his family, and his ancestors, and of Lord Yamanouchi himself, and he knew that he must not bring them any reason to be ashamed of him. “No,” he said with a firmness that surprised his friends. “I have one day and one night to learn how to die with honour, and I will do so.” So speaking, he got up and returned alone to the court of Lord Yamanouchi. There he found his equal in rank, the master of fencing, he was skilled as no other in the art of fighting with a sword. “Master,” he said, when he had explained his tale, “Teach me to die like a samurai.” But the master of fencing was a wise man, and he had a great respect for the master of the tea ceremony, so he said, “I will teach you all you require, but first, I ask that you perform the way of the Tea for me one last time.” The tea master could not refuse this request. As he performed the ceremony, all trace of fear seemed to leave his face. He was serenely concentrated on the simple but beautiful cups and pots, and the delicate aroma of the leaves. There was no room in his mind for anxiety. His thoughts were focused on the ritual. When the ceremony was complete, the fencing master slapped his thigh and exclaimed with pleasure: "There you have it. No need to learn anything of the way of death. Your state of mind when you perform the tea ceremony is all that is required. When you see your challenger tomorrow, imagine that you are about to serve tea for him. Salute him courteously, express regret that you could not meet him sooner, take of your coat and fold it as you did just now. Wrap your head in a silken scarf and and do it with the same serenity as you dress for the tea ritual. Draw your sword, and hold it high above your head. Then close your eyes and ready yourself for combat." That is exactly what the tea master did when, the following morning, at the crack of dawn he met his opponent. The samurai warrior had been expecting a quivering wreck and he was amazed by the tea master’s presence of mind as he prepared himself for combat. The samurai’s eyes were opened and he saw a different man altogether. He thought he must have fallen victim to some kind of trick or deception, and now it was he who feared for his life. The warrior bowed, asked to be excused for his rude behaviour, and left the place of combat with as much speed and dignity as he could muster. And that was the story of The Samurai and the Tea Master. Bertie loves this story because it shows that if you can gain mastery over your mind and spirit, you can overcome almost any difficulty or danger. In fact, the impossible will soon become become possible. Natasha’s Post Recording Comment Dear Listeners, The principles of Zen used by the Samurai soldiers, which formed part of their practice, we can see as the guiding principle for the characters in this story. The philosophy of Zen was formed by the Japanese into 13 sects and is part of their Northern School of Buddhism. It was adopted by The Japanese in the Confucian era. The Confucian soldier Wang Yang Ming used its principles as part of the basis for his military school in the training of young men to become samurai soldiers. Its distinctive elements were of use to its art and practice, as follows: Principals of Zen Philosophy. It denounces emphasis on scriptural authority and places more importance on the act of mind, body and the spoken word to convey religious truth; providing a good guide for the physical and mental training for the Confucian soldiers. It holds Buddha as a spiritual model they hope to obtain; someone of an acclaimed position that they worship and follow, useful for Confucian soldiers in learning how to follow the hierarchy of a ruling leader. It expresses its religious practice through the act of specific physical actions like the picking up of a sword or the moving of a chair or a loud cry, extremely useful for the precise military actions carried out by the soldiers with a characteristic slicing action and ‘ hi ya’ sound of the sword. These are just some of the aspects of Zen used by the Samurai soldiers and show how it easily became the faith first of the Samurai in the Sung Dynasty between 1358 and 1659. And was hugely influential to men of the military, statesmen and letters. And furthermore Zen’s overriding principle; to obtain a harmony of mind, both physical and mental, not to rash or not too calm, not too emotional or unsympathetic not too stressed or relaxed but a balanced equal both of mind and body combined, is one that we westerners can still learn from. The Japanese and Chinese are still devoted to Zen Buddhism today and it is prominent in their culture. In the meantime, I do hope you enjoy the far eastern story of The Samurai and The tea master and the good principles of Zen that it implies. N* \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn238.txt b/text/sn238.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..8d09166c188e8fe08c7824c328f78eb1c5040fbf --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn238.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Long ago, in Japan, there was a boy who was training to be a monk. He lived in the small temple at the end of the village. Every morning, at quarter to four, he woke up to the sound of a bell rung by the old priest. His first task of the day was to sit with the priest and chant the poem known as Zazen Wasan: The chanting was followed by a lesson called Sansen. After a bowl of rice for breakfast, the boy set to work cleaning or gardening. When he was not working, he was either studying the wise words known as sutras, or sitting with his legs in the lotus position, and with his back aching so much that he felt he would die of pain. While he was sitting still for hours on end, it was ever so tempting to nod off - but if he did so even for a moment, the old priest would wrap him on the head with a wooden spoon.The day was long and hard. Often, the old priest would have business to attend to, and he would leave the boy to continue his cleaning and digging and studying and meditating by himself. But the priest was not gone for long before the boy’s attention began to wonder. It was always the same. He would open his wooden box, find a pen, dip it in ink and do what he really loved to do, which was to draw cats. Sitting cats; prowling cats; stretching cats; yawning cats; cats up trees, cats curled up on mats; cats arching their backs with their hairs on end; cats rubbing their sides against trees; black cats, white cats; ginger cats; tabby cats - every type of cat, he drew them all, but always and only cats. When the priest came back and saw the boy’s work he sometimes sighed, sometimes scolded, sometimes punished him. Many times he warned him, that if he was to be a monk, he could not go on like this, drawing cats. Eventually he despaired of him altogether. “You might one day be an artist,” he said, “But you will never be a monk. Be off with you! Go and seek your fortune where you will. But just heed this one piece of advice from me: when you go to sleep, always make sure you are in a place that is both small and safe.” The boy packed his mat, and his pen and ink, and went on his way. He walked all day until he came to another temple, one that was far larger and more famous than the one he had come from. He decided to seek shelter for the night inside this temple. He pushed open the gate and walked into the courtyard. It was still and empty. He entered the shrine where the only sign of life was a lamp that had been left burning. There were many screens around the temple, and he thought to himself. “How much nicer they would look if they were decorated with pictures of cats!” And having thought about cats, it was a short step to drawing them. By the time he had finished his work, every single screen in the temple bore a picture of at least one cat. “There, that’s a big improvement,” he said to himself, and then, with a stretch and a yawn, he decided it was time to get some sleep. He remembered the advice of the old priest - sleep somewhere small and safe - and he chose a cosy broom cupboard for his night’s rest. He curled up inside it, and soon was fast asleep. It must have been around midnight when he heard a ferocious commotion. It began with loud sniffing and scratching noises, which was followed by the most terrible screeching and screaming, and the sounds of screens and statues and bowls being knocked over. The boy stayed huddled up in his broom cupboard, certain that he was having a nightmare. In the morning, he crept out into the shrine. There, a strange and terrible sight greeted his eyes. The floor was covered with the dead body of an enormous rat - the size of a horse it was. This goblin rat was the reason that he had found the temple deserted. It had scared away the monks. And now it had met its just fate. But how? The boy picked up a screen that had been knocked over during the fight. His work from the night before was no longer visible on it. And so it was with every screen. His drawings had vanished. But now, instead, real live cats were to be found in every corner of the temple. He recognised those cats. They were the very same ones that he had drawn from his imagination. He thought to himself, “The pen is indeed mightier than the sword,” and he went on his way. The boy grew up to become a famous artists. And all his life he made a very good living by selling his drawings of cats. And that was the story of the boy who loved to draw cats, read by me, Natasha, and adapted by Bertie for Storynory.com. And if you are interested in the Zen Buddhism in this story, Betie can recommend another tale from Japan. It’s called The Samurai and the Tea Master and you can also find it on Storynory.com. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn239.txt b/text/sn239.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b8d132050c8a4358c8baf686629c3a68b02bcc87 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn239.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Quest of Eric and Enide While Enide was still living with her father in proud poverty, she had a dream. In which she could see a candle lit chapel deep inside a stone castle. A knight and a young maiden in a simple white dress knelt, heads bowed, before the altar. The knight wore a silk tunic over his broad shoulders. On his heels were golden spurs. His face was not entirely clear to her, but the bride was Enide. It was a private, almost secret wedding, with only three or four of her husband-to-be’s closest comrades in attendance. The priest asked if she promised to love, honour and obey her knight, and she cast down her eyes and said softly, “I do”. In her dream, she could feel joy filling in her heart at the certain knowledge that she would live happily ever after in the arms of her strong protector. It happened in life almost as in the dream – but it all happened so very fast. One day, a handsome knight did come to her father’s house. There had been others before him, like Cameron the Bent-Nose and Ferris the Iron-Fist. Their manners were rough, and they called her father “vassal” which meant “slave.” The worst had been Parkin the Small. When Enide brought him his beer, he leered at her with his yellow eyes. He said to her father: “Your daughter’s a pretty one. I’ll give you two gold coins for her.” Her father ordered Enide to stay at the convent until Parkin was gone. The latest knight was different. He treated her father, an old soldier, with great courtesy, and asked him all about the battles he taken part in. He praised the food and the drink, and happily ate the wood pigeon that her father had shot with his bow and arrow, and which Enide had plucked and prepared, before roasting it over the fire. The next day the knight fought in a tournament as the champion of Enide’s beauty. Then she rode behind him on his horse to Cardigan where King Arthur was holding court. That very evening they wed inside the castle chapel. Her dream had come true. She was Lady Enide, wife of Sir Eric - and now she was beginning the rest of her life. Only, she hadn’t dreamed about what would happen next. The castle and the court were so strange. She might as well have been in a far away country where she knew not one word of the language. She had no idea what was expected of her; when to curtsey, when hold out her hand to be kissed, or when to stay back in the shadows. Fortunately there was always something going on at court to distract her. There was a tournament in which all the knights of the round table took part and fought each other. Enide sat next to Queen Guinevere to watch the knights on their broad war horses, the brightly painted shields, the fluttering banners, the ladies in beautiful dresses, the dust, and the blood. The tournament was a chaotic melee. Quite frankly it was a brawl, in which knight fought knight almost at random. There was Sir Galahad swinging at Sir Lancelot with a ball and chain. The ball demolished Lancelot’s shield into splinters, but fortunately did no damage to his skull before he could ride off. Queen Guinevere fanned herself with relief. Enide’s eyes did not dare to leave her husband. When anyone came against him, she felt cold with terror on his behalf. But Eric’s lance propelled many an attacker from the saddle of his horse. When at last he himself was dragged to the ground, he stood up and bashed his opponent over the helmet with the flat side of his sword. Enide thought he was the strongest and bravest knight in the world, and quite possibly, she was right. The king declared that Eric was the outright winner. Suddenly, Enide realised that everyone’s eyes were directed to her as his lady. Her cheeks flushed – and that made her all the more radiant. Eric rode up before her, and held in the reigns of his lively horse. Enide sat and gazed at her her ideal knight. Guinevere elbowed her in the side and said, “Stand up dear and hold out your hand to your husband”. She extended her hand, and Eric kissed it. The whole court cheered, "Eric and Enide, Eric and Enide, Hurrah!" That evening, Eric and Enide sat together before the fire. The serving maid filled their silver goblets with sparkling wine from the vineyards of Devon. Eric said to her in a quiet confidential voice. “I have spent five years here in Wales, in the service of King Arthur. I have fought in twelve battles and more tournaments than I can count. That was all fine when I was alone, but this castle is no place for a delicate young girl. Very soon, my beauty, I shall take you away from this rough life – back to my father’s Devonshire kingdom. There you will find things are more comfortable.” “Your father is a king?’ “Yes, my princess, he is king – second only in wealth and power to King Arthur.” On the morning of their leaving, Queen Guinevere embraced Enide and wished her the same happiness that she had found as Arthur’s Queen. Arthur presented Eric with a sword and scabbard studded with precious stones. To Enide he gave six chests filled with gorgeously embroidered dresses and bed covers. Prince Eric and Princess Enide rode with forty knights and forty pages and serving girls. Their journey to Devon took five days, but as they approached Eric’s home, word reached his old father that his son was on his way back from his service to King Arthur, and that he was bringing with him a bride of radiant beauty. The King said, “My prayers are answered. Thanks be to God that I have lived long enough to see Eric’s safe return.” He ordered that the way be prepared for them. The hooves of Eric’s and Enide’s horses trod over silks and tapestries strewn over the road. As they passed through the city, clouds of blossom rained down on them from high windows. The church bells rang out. Doves were released from towers. The people marvelled at the finest couple they had ever laid eyes upon. The only creature who didn’t seem to approve was a large dog who ran behind Enide’s pony and barked at the top of his voice. The pony took fright and kicked back with its hind hoof – but instead of hitting the dog he kicked an old man who was standing in the crowd. Eric jumped down from his saddle. The Prince helped the old man to his feet and asked him if any bones had been broken. Enide almost cried because her husband was so good. Inside the keep of the castle, the King and Eric’s six younger brothers and sisters all embraced him in turns. The youngest sister, whose name was Ethel the Fair, took Enide by the arm and told her, “I thought that Eric would never a find a beauty to match his own good looks, but now I see you, I see that he has indeed found a worthy match.” Now Enide began the life of a princess. Every day a duke, an ambassador or family member, brought her a new present. It was her husband who outdid all the others in his generosity. She had jewels, dresses, perfumes, ingenious toys, dogs, hamsters, and sweet singing birds. In the evening there were dances, music and games. In the morning, she lay by Eric’s side until they rose at noon. In the afternoon there were walks through beautiful gardens, bathing in the spa, and gentle pony rides across the hills. The sweetness of all these pleasures was that Eric was always at her service. He was indeed her ideal knight - but he was so perfect that it was, perhaps, well, just a little bit frustrating at times. She tested his patience. When they were due to go out riding she kept him waiting for an hour while she dressed. Another time she told him to go back and change because his grey tunic did not suit him. But not once did she provoke a single scowl or reproach from him. Yes, perhaps he was too perfect. He never wanted to leave her side. When there was a tournament, he did not take part himself, but equipped his ten finest knights to fight in his place, and instead spent the time with her. He rarely went hunting. He did not go looking for dragons to slay. All his thoughts were of love, not war. People began to talk. Enide heard it first from the servant who was preparing her headdress. She asked her what Eric had been like when he was a boy: “Oh quite different my lady,” she replied. “Before he married he was much more interested in manly things like swords and javelins. Now it seems that he only has thoughts for you, my lady.” Somehow this answer did not quite please Enide. She wondered if it was a good thing that her husband should be entirely devoted to her. She spoke to Eric’s sister who said that yes, she too had heard talk of how her brother had given up the life of a knight. The people were comparing him to Paris, the Trojan Prince, who lay all day with Helen while the war raged around the walls of Troy. Even his brothers were growing impatient with him. These words greatly trouble Enide, though at first she made no mention of her worries to her husband. At last one summer morning, as Enide lay by her sleeping husband’s side, she began to weep and lament softly: As she wept, her tears fell onto Eric’s chest and face and awoke him, but his head was still fogged by sleep. He half heard her words and the understood only the gist of what she said. In this state of semi-awakedness he felt angry and betrayed that his wife should reproach him for growing soft and weak. Why, if it was not for him, she would still be a poor girl with a single white dress! He had made her a princess and his future queen, and this was all the thanks he received! Right through his body he felt a sharp pang that hurt far more than any wound he had received in combat. He hurled his huge body out of the bed and turned and spoke to her in rage. “Why you think I grow soft, do you? You long for a life of battles and hard blows do you? Well make yourself ready, for we are setting out on a quest, you and I, and you shall learn the true meaning of your foolish words!” An hour later, Eric was dressed in full armour on his war horse. Under his arm he held a long sturdy lance. Enide sat on her pony. In her heart, she deeply regretted her words. “Oh why did I speak so?” she asked herself. “I had every happiness, and now I have lost it all through my foolishness.” Eric and Enide rode out onto the moors. At first light rain fell down from the sky as softly as Enide’s tears. Then the air became filled with mist and she could hardly see the ground in front of her pony’s feet. Eric and Enide rode on, pursuing their quest. A quest for what? Enide had no idea what her husband sought or what dangers and challenges they would meet on the way, but she knew that they had left their life of pleasure behind them. And that’s the second part of our story. I’ll be back soon with the next instalment, in which we will find out what happened next in Eric and Enide’s journey through life. In the meantime we there are loads more stories at Storynory.com – so drop by soon and listen to some. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn24.txt b/text/sn24.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..21f14ae6a7cc7141395ff169a6148957fffd98eb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn24.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +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 unimpress Princess Beatrice with Bertie was to arrange a driving holiday. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 19.01. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. 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…” 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 he 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 Porsche.” “No.” “Oh, oh, don’t tell me. 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 the car he used to drive when he was a prince was a… Ford. 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 is 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, however, 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. He often used to come down to the garage to watch his friend mend the cars. When 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 soup it up a bit.” And over the next month, whenever 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 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, mean racing machine trying to get out.” And VROOOOMM! 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-fic,” he said. But that was just before a dog ran across the road right 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 first thing he heard was the mother of the baby that he had almost killed, saying: “Are you alright? Shall I call an ambulance?” 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, gear in neutral, nincompoop. And so she decided that the best way to unimpress Beatrice with Bertie was to go on a driving holiday. At the start of the summer, 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 arrived hours before Bertie and Beatrice, only the police pulled her over 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, in case 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 blonde moustache. 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 sat down to dinner in the great hall of the castle. The first course was wild boar pâté. Unfortunately, Princess Beatrice could not eat it because she 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 when she saw the servant set up the fondue and light the flame below it. She loved fondues. 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 vegetarian.” Prince Vlad looked quite astonished. He clearly did not expect to entertain a vegetarian in his castle. “I know,” said the queen to her cousin. “Pathetic isn’t it?” And Prince Vlad said: “Well she looks like a horse, so it’s hardly surprising that she eats grass.” “Hey,” said Bertie. “How dare you say that about Beatrice?” “How dare I?” Said Prince Vlad. “This is my castle, and I can say what I want to.” “Well I jolly well think you should say you’re sorry,” said Bertie. At the word, “sorry,” Prince Vlad’s little moustache twitched, and his ears went red. His eyes swivelled this way and that. It was clearly a word that he didn’t like much. “Sorry?” He said under his breath. Then he said louder: “I shall give you my apologies with a bullet at dawn. I challenge you to a duel!” “Alright,” said Bertie. “Oh no! Stop it. Stop it!” Exclaimed Beatrice. “Oh goodie!” Said the queen, because she loved duels, and she thought her cousin Vlad was bound to win and shoot Bertie, and that would be the end of her problem. Beatrice could hold back her tears no longer. She ran out of the room sobbing. Bertie caught up with her down the corridor. “This is too silly,” said Beatrice. I absolutely forbid you to take part in this duel. You know he’ll cheat. Your pistol probably won’t even be loaded. In fact.. in fact I won’t marry you if you fight this duel, even if he doesn’t kill you.” And even though Bertie thought his honour was at stake, Beatrice made him promise that they would get up before dawn and leave. In the middle of the night, Bertie and Beatrice quietly drove down the star-lit road away from Prince Vlad’s castle. They were heading for the border with the next kingdom, and then the sea. At first, it was quite scary driving along the windy road in the dark. But then the sun began to rise above the mountains, and Bertie felt glad to be alive and by the side of his lovely, sensible princess. But not too long after dawn, two policemen on motorcycles drove along side the car and waved at Bertie to pull over. Bertie stopped the car and wound down the window. “What have I done?” He asked. “You were driving too slowly,” said the policeman. Bertie laughed. Beatrice leaned over and told the policeman: “No he wasn’t. He was driving normally.” Then the policeman said: “You are under arrest for running away from a duel. You must return to the castle of Prince Vladimir.” “You were right,” said Bertie to Beatrice. “It’s all a trick. Prince Vlad just wants to kill me. The wicked queen put him up to this to stop me marrying you.” “What shall we do?” Asked Beatrice. “This,” said Bertie, and he pulled the car out and accelerated down the mountain road. The policemen jumped onto their motorcycles and started to give chase. Beatrice covered her face with terror because she was certain that Bertie would shoot off the road at the first bend and they would go hurtling thousands of feet to their deaths – but he took it perfectly, and he rounded the second corner like a rally driver. You see, what Bertie hadn’t told anyone, was that every weekend he took his car to the racing track and practiced driving it fast. But by the time they were on a straight piece of road, the motorcycles were catching up with them. Bertie pressed a button on the dashboard and the car shot forward even faster than before. Still the motorcycles were keeping up. By the next bend, one of them was trying to overtake. But it was still early morning, and the road was slippery with dew. Bertie’s car went into a spin. He steered into the skid as he had been taught and managed to take it around in a perfect circle and carry on driving. The policemen had to drive off the road to avoid him. Fortunately for them, it wasn’t too steep here and they both went speeding over the green pastures, unable to stop until they were nearly at the bottom of the valley. It wasn’t far to the border now. When they reached the barrier, Bertie just went crashing straight through it. The border guards opened fire, and it was a good thing that the windows of Bertie’s car were bullet proof. He sped through no-man’s land and slowed down just before the crossing into the next country. Beatrice and Bertie waved their royal passports at the two guards and they reached safety. Bertie and Beatrice drove calmly on to their destination: the summer palace of Princess Leone, which overlooked the sparkling blue sea. The wicked queen arrived three days later. You see, first she lost the way, and then her car had broken down. But what annoyed her more than anything was that she soon saw that Bertie and Beatrice were more in love than ever. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn240.txt b/text/sn240.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f6bc2582f55faba3541630d0298b2683ca969ae7 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn240.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +You can catch up with the earlier parts of our long but exciting story from the time of King Arthur. The Journey of Eric and Enide Eric and Enide rode up and down over the moorland in silence. After a while the mist and the drizzle began to lift, but it was no clearer to Enide where they were going or why. Eventually she thought to herself, “This is too ridiculous. He must tell me what this is all about”. So she spoke to her husband but he did not reply. She thought that perhaps he could not hear her because his armour covered his ears. She leaned over and tapped him on the helmet. His visor was up above his face, but the look in his clear blue eyes was distant and uninterested in her. “My Lord,” she said. “You told me that we are going on a quest. May I ask just one question: a quest for what?” Eric did not tell her. Instead he said in a weary voice, “I ask only this. Ride on ahead and do not say a word to me. Whatever may happen, whatever you may see or hear, do not speak to me.” Having said that, he clamped the visor of his helmet down over his face. Enide was not sure if she was more hurt or angered by this response, but she hurried ahead on her pony until she was some way further down the track. Although she was tired and sad, she kept a sharp lookout for any signs of life or jeopardy. She had heard tales of the strange beings that appeared on the moors: pixies, ghosts, headless horsemen, wild hounds, and robbers. Soon she realised that her intuition of danger was right – for she saw three knights watching them from the brow of the hill. They started to ride down the slope towards them. They looked far from friendly for they were coming at quite a pace and held lances in their hands. She turned around to look for her husband – but he was riding far behind and did not seem to have noticed the knights. “I must warn him,” she said to herself. “He told me not to speak, but this is a matter of life and death.” She kicked her heels into her pony to hurry down the track towards Eric as she called out, “My Lord! My Lord! We’re under attack!” But Eric did not respond. When she reached him she said frantically, “Don’t you see those three knights? Soon they will be upon us!” “So? What do you want me to do about it?” he asked. “Don’t you recall? I’ve gone soft and effeminate.” “Oh what are you saying?” “Your words, not mine, darling.” She calmed herself and tried to reason with her husband one more time. “If you insist on arguing then very soon you will be dead and your wife will be taken prisoner by bandits. Is that what you really want?” With a grunt, Eric lifted up his lance and spurred his horse on to meet the attackers. One robber-knight rode out in front of the others; Eric drove his lance into his shield, and thrust him off his horse. He stabbed the second bandit in the side so that he too fell from his mount. The third turned and fled, but Eric pursued the robber and caught up with him. They clashed sword to sword and very soon Eric killed his opponent. He gathered the loose horse and rode back to collect the mounts from the two other robbers. “You can walk,” he said to them, “and be glad that you picked on an effeminate knight, or you might have finished up still worse.” The defeated robbers looked baffled by this statement. As they left, Eric ordered Enide not to speak another word, even if the devil himself was coming to attack them. They rode on, and when they reached the top of a hill, Enide looked down towards a river and she saw some men hurrying to hide in some trees by the track. She was sure that they were robbers and that they were setting an ambush for them. She felt alarmed and confused. Eric had told her not to speak – and yet she must warn him that they were in danger. She remembered that at her wedding she had promised to love honour and obey. “I do love him,” she said to herself, “but if he’s being pig-headed, how can I honour and obey him? Of course I must warn him or we will both die.” So she did warn him - and he was furious. “Did I not order you to keep silent?” he asked. “I give you but one command, and this is how you keep it!” “My Lord, you did indeed tell me not to speak, but it is very hard when I see danger up ahead.” “Oh faithless woman,” he muttered. Then he spurred his horse onto the brow of the hill. Looking down from there he saw the clump of trees and bushes where the robbers lay in wait, and he charged down towards them. He disappeared into the trees and Enide wondered if that would be her last sight of her husband still alive. She heard the clashing of swords and shields, the whinnying of horses, and the cries of men. Ten minutes later Eric emerged from the trees leading five horses with empty saddles. When husband and wife met up again, neither said a word, although Eric seemed to be in better spirits – for no one could doubt his strength and valour after a victory over five men. That night, Enide stayed awake to keep watch for wolves or robbers. While she sat by camp fire she looked at her sleeping husband, his broad shoulders, his huge arms and his thick neck, and she thought to herself, “He is certainly brave and strong, and he is often kind and noble. But he was born a prince and has never had anything but praise all his life. Perhaps it is not surprising that there are times when he behaves like a spoilt child.” When the sun rose, they saw that they had camped on the edge of a farm. Soon a boy came across them. He was carrying some food for the farm workers’ lunch. He hailed Eric and said, “Good sir. I see that you and your lady are of noble stock. Let me take you to my master, for he loves to know when people of note are passing through. He will receive you in his palace and you shall stay in comfort and the best food and drink will restore you.” Eric and Enide both gladly accepted the invitation. That day they rested on comfortable beds and in the evening they joined the lord of the manor for a dinner of roast venison. When Enide saw her host, she recognised him straight away. His name was Earl Limours, and two years before he had stayed in her father’s house, and had asked for her hand in marriage. Her father rejected him. He thought his manners were too smooth, and he didn’t trust Limours to take good care of his daughter. Neither Enide or Limours said a word to show that they knew each other – and Enide was afraid that her husband would be jealous if he learned their history. All evening Limours drank and jested a good deal, for he liked good company. Eric also drank freely from the wine, though he barely glanced in the direction of his wife. Limours looked her way a good deal though. When Eric was out of the room, he sat next to her and said: As he spoke, Enide saw cunning in Limours’ eyes. She remembered that her father had not trusted this man’s charm. She sat silently, and he whispered to her, “Come. I will set you free. Say the word and my men will fall upon your cruel husband while he is unarmed and unsuspecting. Then we shall at last be man and wife, as it was meant to be.” Enide was greatly afraid that one of Limours men would stab Eric in the back before the evening was out. She could see no chance to warn him before they were alone together. So she answered craftily, “No. It will be bad luck to kill a guest at dinner, and although he is unarmed, he will put up a fierce fight. Better wait until dawn, and kill him while he sleeps.” Limours agreed that Enide’s plan was the safest and the best. When everyone was ready for bed, he bowed deeply to Eric and wished him the soundest of sleeps. After Eric and Enide had gone up to their room, he boasted to his men that the lady did not love her careless husband, and had only eyes for him, her first true love. Enide let her husband sleep a few hours, but she herself did not dare rest. While it was still dark she awoke him and told him what Limours had said and how she had tricked him to win a little time. Eric thought to himself, “So she does love me after all. Or at least, she prefers me to Limours.” The couple slipped out the palace before dawn, but soon after sun rise, Enide thought she could hear the sound of hooves behind them. She turned saw a cloud of dust bristling with the points of lances. Limours and a large number of his men were after them. She spoke to Eric, “My Lord, Look back. We are not out of danger yet.” This time her husband did not scold her for speaking. He turned his horse and charged towards their pursuers. Enide thought to herself, “Even he cannot defeat an army. Surely this time he will be killed and Limours will force me to become his wife. No. I would rather kill myself than marry that charm merchant.” Limours rode out in front of his men and was the first to meet Eric. They clashed against one another’s shields with lances, and both fell to the ground. Soon they were back on their feet. Limours swung at Eric with his sword, but Eric ducked under it and cut his opponent on the leg between the joints of his armour. When Limours men saw their master fall, three of them came at Eric. They were on horse back and he was on foot. It was only a matter of moments before Eric would surely be dealt a death blow - but the wounded Limours called out, “Men stop. Leave him be. My head was hot with wine and passion. I behaved ignobly to a guest. Let this knight go on his way with his fair lady, for that is how it should be.” Enide thought that it was only by a miracle that her husband had survived this encounter. What she did not know was that Eric had been wounded, and beneath his armour, he was bleeding. The sun shone down hotly, and the strength in his muscles were evaporating. Eric was already wondering how much longer he could go on, when they both heard some piteous cries up ahead in some woods. He understood right away that it was the voice of a woman who was in great distress. “Wait here,” he said to Enide, “I must go and help.” As he rode on ahead, Enide thought how if anything terrible happened to him, people would say that her husband died while coming to the aid, not of her, but another woman. Eric found the young damsel – and she told him how she and her fiancé had had been set upon by a giant, and now the cruel beast was dragging him away to his lair. Whether the beast was to eat him or to demand a ransom from his father, she did not know. “I will return the young man safely to you – or die in the trying,” said Eric. As he rode on, he thought that it might be the latter. Not far ahead he caught up with the abductor, who was truly a giant – barely able to walk under the trees he was so tall. He was dragging his prisoner along the ground like a sledge. Eric called out, “Ogre. Let him go.” The giant snarled, “Make me.” As Eric rode up to him, the giant grabbed his foot and yanked him off his horse. The huge beast brought his his club down onto Eric and dealt him a terrible blow. It was if a boulder had rolled off a cliff onto his head. Perhaps by chance, Eric tripped the giant and the beast fell onto the point of Eric’s sword. Eric thrust upwards. The creature bellowed like an earthquake and staggered around before thundering onto the ground. Eric was so weak that he was barely able to pick himself up and help the young man onto his horse. In a semi-conscious daze he led him back down the path to reunite the lad with his maiden. When Eric finally got back to the place where Enide was waiting for him, he was blacking out and seeing only stars in front of his eyes. He fell off his horse with a great crash of his armour. Enide untied his helmet and saw the wound in his head. She had nothing to wash it with, but her tears - and she felt that his body was frightfully cold. “Oh no, dear husband, do not leave me,” she said. Despair came over her. At noon, a huge red-bearded knight found Enide weeping over the body of her husband. Her grief and tears did not detract from her beauty. He thought to himself, “Here’s the damsel for me - and I am here just in time. This morning she belonged to this pile of limbs that is lying on the road. By this evening she will be mine.” He stepped down from his horse and tried to comfort the beautiful young woman, saying that he would take her back to his castle for protection, and that he was the most powerful man around these parts. His name was Earl Doorm. Enide refused to leave her husband, but Earl Doorm told his servant to fetch a cart to carry the body back with them. When they reached Doorm’s castle, Eric’s massive limbs were stretched out on the table of the main hall. Enide sat for long hours by his side weeping and saying his name. Her words reached into the mind the Eric - for he was not dead, merely in a deep state of unconsciousness. The sound of his wife’s voice brought him back from the brink of death. His first clear thought was, “I love her - and she loves me.” But Earl Doorm was growing impatient with Enide. He strutted up and down the hall until at last he pulled her away from Eric’s body and shook her. “Tears will not bring him back... Weep no more. The priest is on his way. First we shall have a funeral, and then a wedding straight after.” “No, No,” cried Enide, “I shall always love my Lord Eric. I shall never love another man so long as I live.” Eric heard these words but his eyes remained closed. “Foolish woman!” cried Earl Doorm. “Don’t you see? You are mine now.” “Yours?” she said in amazement. “Never!” “You shall be my wife within the hour. And you will learn to obey me even sooner,” cried Doorm, and with that he struck her on the face. Eric rolled off the table onto his feet and punched the Earl. Doorm staggered backwards, as much shocked as hurt, and Eric’s second blow laid him out flat. They were surrounded by the Earl’s guards who looked on in amazement thinking that Eric was a ghost. One of them called out, "The dead knight is risen!" Another said, “It’s the devil himself.” And third cried, “It’s the Apocalypse!” Eric led Enide by the hand into the courtyard where they found a scene of complete panic with soldiers and servants running this way and that from the spectre of the dead knight. Only a young serving maid kept hold of her senses. She did not believe in such nonsense as ghosts, and she hated the Earl with all her heart. She fetched a horse for Eric and Enide and wished them God’s speed. Enide climbed up behind Eric, clasped her arms around him, and once more they rode away... And they kept on riding over the hills until they met a knight. “What is your name?” Called the stranger. “Are you friend or foe?” Eric did not reply because he was still too feeble to speak. “Tell me your name,” called the knight again, “or I shall challenge you.” Enide realised that if Eric did not reply, the other might take him for a robber. She called out, “His name is Eric, Prince of Devon and he is grievously wounded. What is your name?” “I am Kay, a knight of King Arthur,” replied the other. “The name of Prince Eric is held in great esteem by myself and all the knights of the round table. Now pray, follow me.” King Arthur was camped not more than a mile away. When he heard that Prince Eric had arrived and was seriously wounded, he brought him to rest in his own tent. Serving maids washed Eric’s wounds with a healing ointment concocted by the wizard Merlin. He rested for three days, and all the time Enide stayed by his side. For a long while he did not speak. When at last he opened his eyes he said, “We have found the object of our quest.” “And what is that my dear?” asked Enide. And he replied softly, “Love.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn241.txt b/text/sn241.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ebbe084395cf6e1c8d0b21c7fe00a9277dadf2af --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn241.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Christmas Cherry Tree 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 landowners, 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 in case anyone might pay a visit to 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. 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 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 Uther, who was at Cardiff for Christmas. 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 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. 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. Everyone 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. 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. 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? 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. So they set off, not on a steed or pony, but Sir Cleges’ walking stick as 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.” The porter went over to the basket and lifted the lid. When he saw the cherries he marvelled 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.” 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 man did ever see.” When the usher saw the cherries, he was amazed and said, “If you grant me a third part of whatever you may win for these, then you may indeed go on.” 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.” Sir Cleges replied, “See, good sir, I have a gift for the king.” 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!” 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 down 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.” 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, the king commanded, “Bring before me the poor man who gave me the cherries.” 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 serfs or goods.” 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.” Sir Cleges went into the hall and sought the steward to give him his reward. He dealt him such a blow that it knocked him down. 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. Then he found the porter and gave him his reward with the words. “I keep my bargain. Take this, and this, and this and this!” 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. 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 kneeled 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, 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 Good Lord sent for them. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn242.txt b/text/sn242.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..95adf4b56fa51a414c3dd2374d8596c8f9b08a8e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn242.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This morning on the pond, little Tim, who is a very curious tadpole, looked out of the green water and spotted a rabbit hopping around the vegetable patch.', "This short history of Easter Eggs is the first of our True Storynories. We hope that you will enjoy Tim's Lessons as much as our fairy tales and poems. ", 'Read by Natasha Lee Lewis. Duration 6.25 \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn243.txt b/text/sn243.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6a0845d2f5f5a77a0bae8289f5b06af2f7e9120a --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn243.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the Audio As you may know, there’s a young tadpole who lives in the palace pond with Prince Bertie the frog, and his name is Tim. Tim goes to the school for tadpoles, and at the end of every term the school always holds swimming races. Just recently, Tim was very excited because he came second in the backstroke race and he won a silver star. The only problem was that the star wouldn’t stick to him because he was too wet. All the same, he was very pleased, and when he saw Bertie he said, "Yippee! I won a prize. I’m a champion swimmer!" “Well done little Tim,” said Bertie, “When you grow up to be a big green frog like me, you’ll win a medal in the Olympics!” “Will I? Will I?" Asked Tim. “That’s Grrrreat! I\'m going to win a medal in the Olympics. Er, Bertie. What’s the Olympics?” “Ah yes,” said Bertie, who likes showing off his knowledge, "It’s when all the fastest, strongest, and most agile athletes from all over the world meet up and see who\'s best at each sport. It happens every year in a different country and everyone watches it on television.” “Rubbish!” Said Colin the Carp, who had been overhearing this conversation. “Don’t go believing anything that comes from Bertie. In actual fact, The Olympics only happen once every four years.”', "“Ah yes, didn't I say that?” Asked Bertie.", '“No, you didn\'t,” said Colin, “because you’re ignorant." “Will I be ignorant too when I grow up?” Asked Tim, who didn\'t know what it meant. Nobody was listening though. Tim didn\'t like not being noticed, so he grew more excited and his voice grew more squeaky. “Bertie, Bertie, do tell me more about the Olympics, because you used to be a prince and princes know everything… Why do they only happen every four years. That’s an awfully long time to wait!" Bertie said, “Well little Tim. As a matter of fact, princes don’t know quite everything, but they can find out anything. I’ll find out the whole history of the Olympics for you. In fact, I’ll ask Natasha about it right away.” So Bertie asked me to tell Tim the entire history of the Olympics. As I didn’t actually know it all, I went to the Palace Library to look it up. So here is the history of the Olympics, especially for Tim. The Olympics began over two and half thousand years ago in Ancient Greece. In those days Greece was made up of several different states; including Athens, Sparta and Corinth, and they were often at war with each other.', "When the games were on, they held a truce. The greatest event was held at a place called Olympia, and that’s why the games were called the Olympics. They were held once every four years in honour of Zeus, lord of all the gods. The Olympics weren't the only important games – there were three other great festivals of sport too – which is why the Olympics only came round once in every four years.", 'The longest race and toughest race of all, the Marathon, also takes its name from ancient Greece. In 490 BC, the Greek states came together to fight off a vast and powerful army of invaders from the Persian Empire. The battle took place at Marathon, and a soldier called Pheidippides, ran all the way back to the city of Athens. After he had given the people the news that they were saved, he died of exhaustion.', "Eventually the ancient Olympics were abolished by the Roman Emperor, Theodosus the First, who was a Christian and didn't like the games because they were dedicated to a pagan god. The Olympics were always remembered as a symbol of human achievement and peace.", 'Almost 1,500 years later, a French aristocrat called Pierre de Coubertin campaigned to restart the games in the cause of peace between nations. The first modern Olympics were held in 1894 in Athens, the capital of Greece. The Greek hosts were delighted when the Marathon race was won by a Greek Shepherd, Spyridon Louis. The next games were hold in 1900 in Paris, which was at that time hosting a World Fair showing off all the most advanced inventions that people thought would change the world in the Twentieth Century. The organisers decided to spread the games over five months, and so they lacked any focus and hardly got noticed. The Olympic Games continued to be held every four years, and they grew and grew in popularity. In 1936, the Olympics were held in Berlin, the capital of Germany. The African American, Jesse Owens, won four gold medals for sprinting and long jumping. The games were held again in Germany, this time in Munich in 1972. In those days, the Olympics were almost seen as a kind of competition between the Soviet Union (which was the Communist empire of Russia) and the western world, especially the United States. Many of the Athletes of the Soviet Union, although brilliant at their sports, did not often smile very much in public. But one, a tiny young gymnast called Olga Korbut won the hearts of everyone on both sides of the divide with her charm and skill. She was the first person ever to do a backward somersault on the balance beam during a competition. On the American side, the mustached swimmer, Mark Spitz, won seven gold medals, and still holds the record for the most gold medals won in a single Olympic games. In 1980, the games were held in Moscow, the capital of the Soviet Union. America refused to let itsathletes go to the games as a protest against the recent Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Even without the Americans, the sport was memorable, especially the middle distance races in which the two English runners, Steve Ovett and Sebastian Coe, competed against each other for gold and glory. The two athletes really didn’t like each other – and their private differences added plenty of interest to the competition on the track. In recent times, a big problem has been the suspicion that some athletes take drugs to make them stronger and faster. In 1988, in Seoul, Ben Johnson was stripped of his gold medal after he failed a test for drugs. At the Athens Olympics in 2004, 24 athletes were discovered to have taken drugs. Now that China is growing in wealth and power, there is a hint of a return to the old East-West rivalry. However, as in the times of Ancient Greece, most people see that it’s much better to compete in the sports arena than to fight outside it. The modern games still keep the ideal of peace, harmony and good sportsmanship, even if they don’t always quite live up to it. History shows that it’s a real struggle for peace and sport to triumph over war and politics, but it’s a goal worth striving for. That’s the story of the Olympics – not quite the entire history – but I hope that both you and Tim found it interesting. And don’t forget there are loads more stories at Storynory.com For now, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn244.txt b/text/sn244.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..18392ca69ded854d3d9cd30e7aeab9bc24f373f6 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn244.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +However bad humanity is, the animals are innocent. Every child understands and sympathises with that message, and the story of the greatest animal rescue of all time will always appeal to children. Adapted by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Proofread by Claire Deakin & Jana Elizabeth. Adam and Eve had sons, and their sons had sons, and the sons of the sons had sons. By that time there were lots of people in the world. God sat back and watched them. He saw them hurting each other, being selfish, and not thinking about him very much. God saw Noah, who was, however, a very good man. He said: “I like Noah, but I don’t like the others much.” The world had not turned out quite as well as he had hoped, so he decided to have a great storm, which would cause a flood, so he could start again. The flood would soon get rid of all the bad men, animals and everything that lived. Before God started the storm he told Noah how to build a great boat – the ark. He told him how long it should be, how many rooms it should have, and how many windows and doors. God said: “Now listen, Noah. When your ark is finished, I want you to get two of every animal, two of every bird, and all the insects and bugs you can lay your hands on. Then get your wife, your sons and their wives, and put the whole lot in the ark. Right?” Noah said he would do it, and the ark was built. Just as the last nails were hammered in, the sky went black and the lightning started flashing. God had turned on the storm. “Quick!” shouted Noah. “Everybody in. No pushing, you lions. Hurry up at the back, tortoises.” Just in time, the door was shut and locked. For nearly six weeks it rained and rained and rained. All the ground was covered with water, and even the trees and mountains were covered. The ark sailed on. It bounced up and down a bit in the rough sea, but all the animals, all the birds, all the family and even old Noah were safe and happy inside. After a while the rain stopped banging on the roof, and sunlight started to shine through the cracks in the door and windows. Noah knew it was time to find out if the water had gone down. He thought: “If I send out one of the doves it will soon tell me if there is any land showing yet.” So that day, nearly a year after the ark had started its journey, Noah opened the window and the dove flew out into the clear blue sky. Noah looked around. He certainly couldn’t see any land, just sea, sea, sea (as far as he could see). The dove came back looking a bit fed up. “No good,” it said. A week later, Noah sent out the dove again. This time it came flying back, proudly carrying an olive twig in its beak. That told Noah the water had gone down enough for some land to appear, so he left it a few more days and then opened the door of the ark. All the animals ran out onto the dry land; the horses prancing about, the kangaroos jumping up and down, and the lions growling happily. They all thanked Noah for the lift, and went on their way. God spoke to Noah. He said: “I promise I won’t flood the world again. Go now, and let all your children and grandchildren make the world a really nice place to live in.” God went away again, leaving a lovely rainbow to show that he was going to keep his promise. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn245.txt b/text/sn245.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d7d26c1cb98b174bde2847950d677a2441a9eef7 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn245.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Joseph was his father’s favourite son, and when his father gave him a magnificent coat for a present, his brothers became jealous. One day they hatched a plot to sell him into slavery for 20 pieces of silver. Joseph found himself in Egypt, but his gift for telling the future helped him turn his fortunes. Read by Natasha. Duration 20 minutes. Proofread by Claire Deakin & Jana Elizabeth Joseph and His Coat of Many Colours - Many years ago there were twelve brothers. They lived in a hot and sunny land called Canaan, and they were farmers. Their father was called Jacob, and his two last sons were born when he was already extremely old. Their names were Joseph and Benjamin, and the two youngest were by far the favourites of the old man – so much so, that their older brothers became quite envious of them. Joseph was a dreamy boy, and his brothers were always teasing him for having his ‘head in the clouds’ and not paying attention to what was going on around him. In fact, Joseph noticed everything, and when his brothers neglected their work or did something wrong, he told their father all about it. The brothers were furious with him for getting them into trouble. On Joseph’s seventeenth birthday, Jacob gave him a magnificent present. It was a coat woven with a beautiful pattern that contained many different colours. Joseph loved the coat, but when his older brothers saw it they became even more jealous, and their dislike for him grew even stronger! One day they were out in the fields, and Joseph started to tell his brothers about the dream he had the previous night. In the dream, the brothers had been gathering the wheat in the fields and tying them up into bundles called sheaves. Joseph’s sheaf stood up as if it were alive, and all his brothers’ sheaves bowed down before it. When Joseph had finished telling the dream his brothers were deeply offended and insulted! “What is the meaning of this dream?” they said. “That you shall rule over us, and we shall bow down before you? How dare you dream such a dream? You should shut up and do as you’re told.” A few nights later, Joseph had another dream. This time he told it to his entire family while they were eating their meal. He dreamt that he had stood on a mountain top, and the sun, the moon and all the stars had bowed down before him. This dream was too much, even for his old father. “This is a very unbelievable, crazy dream, young man,” he said. “Do you mean that your father, mother, and all your brothers should bow down before you? You’d better not dream such a dream again, or you may regret it.” When the older brothers saw how angry their father was with Joseph, they were pleased, but soon their dad went back to favouring Joseph above all the others, so they went back to hating Joseph. One day, the brothers went to tend to their flocks in some far away pastures. Benjamin was still too young to go out and work, but Jacob sent Joseph to join the older brothers. He put on his coat of many colours and went out to look for them. The brothers spotted him from far off, and while he was still approaching they planned a plot against him. “Oh no, here comes the dreamer boy,” said one. “Let’s kill him, and throw him in a pit. We will tell father that a wild beast ate him up.” Reuben, who was the oldest, decided to save Joseph. He said: “No, let’s not be so mean that we kill him. He’s an annoying little pest, but he is still our brother. Let’s drop him in a pit and leave him as food for the animals. That way we can truthfully tell father that it was not we who killed him, but the wild beasts.” Secretly, Reuben planned to come back later and rescue Joseph from the pit before any great harm came to him. So when Joseph arrived and said: “Here I am. Would you like to hear what I dreamed last night?” The brothers said: “Did you dream this little brother?” They seized him, stripped him of his coat of many colours and slung him into a hole in the ground. It was a deep pit with no water in it, and if the wild beasts did not eat him, he would surely die of thirst before too long, for it was a baking hot country, on the edge of the desert. Pleased with their plan, the brothers sat down to eat their lunch. While they were eating, some travelling merchants came by. Their camels were loaded with spices, balms, and myrrh for perfumes, which they were carrying to Egypt. Now the brothers planned a second plot. Judah said: “Come, what’s in it for us if we just leave our brother to die? Let us at least make some profit out of him – it will be the first and last time that he brings any good to us. We’ll sell him to these merchants, and they can take him as a slave to Egypt.” The others agreed that it was a fine plan, and so they sold Joseph to the merchants for twenty pieces of silver. Then they killed a goat and dipped Joseph’s coat in the blood. They took the coat to their father, and explained that his favourite son, Joseph, had been killed by a wild animal. Their father Jacob wept and tore his hair out with great sadness, saying that he could never be happy again because of this news. The brothers were, however, happy that they were rid of him, and had made some money too. The merchants took Joseph to the land of Egypt, which was ruled by a magnificent king, called a Pharaoh. There they sold him to Potiphar, who was captain of the Pharaoh’s bodyguard. Joseph served his new master well, and was well liked by him. Then one day, when Potiphar was gone from the palace, his wife tried to kiss Joseph. Joseph said: “No way!” …And ran away from her. When Potiphar came back, his wife lied and made up stories about Joseph attacking her. When Potiphar heard all this, he ordered Joseph to be arrested and thrown in jail. Joseph lived in the dungeon jail with two other men. One of the men had been the Pharaoh’s chief servant, called a butler. The other had been his baker. Both men had done some small things to annoy the Pharaoh, and had been thrown into prison as a result. One morning, the butler said: “I had such a strange dream last night. I only wish that there was somebody here who could tell me its meaning.” Joseph replied that he understood dreams, and begged the butler to tell it to him, which he did. He said: “In my dream I was walking through a vineyard. I came to an especially wonderful vine, which had three branches loaded with bright juicy fruit. I picked the grapes off these three branches, and made them into wine. I poured the wine into a cup, took it to the Pharaoh, and he drank it.” “Well,” said Joseph. I can tell you the meaning of your dream. The three branches are three days, and in three days’ time, you shall be restored to your former job and you will serve wine into the Pharaoh’s hand.” The butler thanked Joseph, and promised to remember him when he was free. The next night the baker had a dream. He dreamt that he was carrying three white baskets in a pile on his head. They were filled with all sorts of delicious pastries and pies, and he meant to take them to the Pharaoh, but before he could arrive, a flock of birds flew down and ate all the bread. “Indeed,” said Joseph, “I can tell you the meaning of your dream. The three baskets are three days, and in three days time the guard will come and chop off your head.” It all happened just as Joseph had said. The baker was executed, and the butler was restored to his former position. But for two whole years the butler did not remember Joseph, until one day the Pharaoh said to his advisers: “I had the strangest dream last night. I was standing by the river and seven fat, happy looking cows came out of the water and started to eat the grass by the bank. Then a little later, seven thin and awful looking cows came out from the water, and they ate up the fat cows. It was so weird. If only some wise man could tell me what it means.” But none of the Pharaoh’s helpers could interpret the dream. The Butler, who was standing near by, heard this. He remembered Joseph in the prison cell. Then he said: “Sir, if you’ll permit me to speak. Some years ago, in your vast wisdom, your Magnificence saw fit to throw your butler and your baker into the dungeon. There we met a man who listened to our dreams and understood our fates, and all the dreams came true exactly as he had predicted.” When he heard this, the Pharaoh sent for Joseph. The guards took Joseph from the dungeon, made sure that he was washed, shaved and dressed in fresh clothes, and brought him before the Pharaoh. Joseph listened to the Pharaoh’s dream about the seven fat cows and the seven thin cows, and he told him exactly what it meant. “Your Majesty, the cows in your dream mean years, and the fat cows are years of plenty. The coming seven years will be full of food, and everyone will have enough to eat and more. But the thin cows are lean years, and the following seven years will be empty of food and the fields of crops will bring you nothing to eat. There is a great danger that everyone in the land of Egypt will starve.” “You must find a wise man to work for you during the seven years of plenty. He will put the extra food into storage. When the seven lean years come, he will take the food out of the storage, and make sure that the people do not starve.” The Pharaoh listened to the words of Joseph, and wondered whom he could appoint to oversee such an important task. After thinking very long and hard, he decided that he knew of no wiser man than Joseph himself. And so Joseph became chief minister, and was the most important person in all of Egypt, except for the Pharaoh of course. Everything happened as he had predicted. There were seven good years followed by seven bad years, but nobody starved in the land because he had saved up enough food during the good times. However, back in the land of Canaan, Josephs family had not stored up any food, and they did not have enough to eat. Joseph’s dad, Jacob, sent his ten eldest sons to Egypt to buy some food before they starved to death. He ordered that Benjamin, the youngest, stay at home, because he could not risk losing another son like Joseph. The brothers came to the Egyptian court, and stood before Joseph. They did not recognise their brother whom they had not seen since he was a young boy of seventeen, and whom they had sold into slavery. The man they were looking at was a magnificent important official, and they bowed down before him, just as Joseph had predicted they would do, many, many years before. Joseph knew his brothers, however, and decided to play a trick on them. “You are spies!” He shouted at them. They became very afraid, and begged that he do them no harm. When he saw his brothers trembling with fear, he softened his voice and asked about their family and where they came from. Simeon, who was the second oldest, replied that they were twelve brothers, but one was dead, and the youngest was at home with his father. When he heard this, Joseph longed to see his little brother, Benjamin, and he said: “Bring the youngest to me, and then I shall give you what you ask.” He permitted the brothers to take only a little food, and sent nine of them home to fetch Benjamin, but he kept Simeon prisoner to ensure that the others returned. When they came home, their father wept and said: “My children are taken from me. First I lost Joseph, then Simeon, and now Benjamin shall be lost too.” Soon they had eaten all the food they had brought with them, and still there was famine in the land, and they had no choice but to return to Egypt with Benjamin, just as Joseph had ordered. This time Joseph received the brothers kindly, and gave them dinner in his own house. Still he did not reveal his true identity. He was so overjoyed to see his brother Benjamin that he wanted to weep, but he held back his tears. Instead, he made sure that Benjamin had the most, and the best of all the food on the table. Joseph instructed his steward to fill sacks full of grain for his brothers to take home. Secretly, he placed the money they had paid for the grain back into the sacks, and into the one belonging to Benjamin, he placed a golden cup from his house. The brothers left for home, and Joseph let them get a head start. Then he sent soldiers to gallop after them, arrest them, and bring them back in chains. “You see,” he said, opening the sack belonging to Benjamin, “this little thief has stolen my golden cup from my house. Is this how you repay my kindness, by thievery?” The brothers were shaken and very, very scared, because now they were certain they would be punished by death. Joseph said they could all go home unpunished, except for Benjamin who must stay behind in prison. The brothers spoke amongst themselves in their own language, and did not know that Joseph could understand them. They believed that all the problems that were happening to them now was God’s punishment to them, for selling their younger brother into slavery for 20 pieces of silver. Joseph heard them, and believed that perhaps they were sorry for what they had done. Then the brother who was called Judah spoke and said: “Your Majesty. Keep us here in Egypt as your slaves, but let Benjamin go back to his father, for he has already lost one favourite son, and if he loses the next dearest to him, it will break his old heart. If you keep Benjamin here in Egypt, our father will surely die of sorrow. Let us remain here in your prison, but send Benjamin home to his father.” Now Joseph knew for certain that his brothers loved their father and were sorry for their wicked action against his favourite son. He could not hold back his secret anymore. Joseph stood up from his throne and came down to hug his brothers. All of a sudden, they recognised him. They all cried so loudly that even the Pharaoh heard them. Eventually Joseph told his brothers to go home to their father and let him know that he was alive, and was the second most important man in all Egypt. They must all return and live close by him. He would protect them, and make sure that they had enough to eat during the years of famine. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn246.txt b/text/sn246.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..83e9e657f12652fdd0118347b81c677d4d4ae826 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn246.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Version by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 18.27. Proofread by Claire Deakin & Jana Elizabeth. Samson and Delilah - A long time ago, in a land where the sun was searingly hot, a man was making his way through a vineyard. The vines brushed against his broad thighs as he went. He was young and handsome, and long hair fell down his muscular back. He had taken an oath never to cut his hair, drink wine, or to touch a dead person. For this oath, he was considered to be a Holy Man. Whether his character was holy, that is something I will leave for you to judge. Now crouching among the vines was a lion. He swished his tail like a cat about to pounce upon a mouse. His nostrils quivered at the scent of man. His ears tuned into the sound of footsteps and rustling vine leaves. Then he sprang with his jaws open and his claws extended. Samson, for that was the name of his intended victim, punched the lion on the chin, and then tore him apart with his bare hands. Soon the creature lay dead among the vines. Samson was pleased with this encounter, because he liked a good scrap. But there was something he liked even more, and that was a pretty face. It must have been his lucky day, because at the bottom of the hill he spied a lovely young woman sitting on the steps of her father’s house. The girl was a Philistine, and Samson was an Israelite. Their people were enemies. In fact, at this time, the Philistines ruled over the Israelites, but Samson did not care about politics. “Make love, not war,” he said to himself. He sat down next to the Philistine girl and spoke to her, and she liked this handsome young stranger as much as he liked her. On his way back home, Samson passed back through the vineyard where he had met the lion. He heard a buzzing sound, and saw that bees were swarming around the dead beast. The corpse was now filled with a thick amber coloured liquid. Samson scooped some of the sticky stuff up onto his fingers and tasted it. It was honey. He dug out more of the sweetness with his hand and ate it. As the honey melted on his tongue, he felt his muscles grow even stronger. By the time he reached home he felt so full of energy and power that he was certain he could fight a whole army single-handed and win. He did not tell his parents about the lion or the honey. He decided to keep that secret for himself. Instead he described the girl to his mother, and told her that he intended to marry her. His mother threw up her arms and said, “Is there not a single woman among your own people that you might marry?” But his father said that it was the Lord’s will that their son should wed the daughter of a Philistine. “Let them take Samson into their family,” he said. “They deserve him.” His wife knew exactly what he meant. The wedding feast lasted seven days on end. Long tables were set outside in the girl’s village, and the trestles were laden with piles of goat’s meat, figs, grapes, stuffed vine leaves, hummus, fried aubergines and other delicacies. Philistines and Israelites sat side by side around the tables. They ate and drank together. They sang and danced together, and they laid bets and dares for each other. In fact after not very long, anyone coming upon this wedding celebration would have a hard time saying who was Philistine and who was Israelite. On the very first night, Samson gave the guests a riddle to solve. He promised that if anyone could find its meaning, he would give each and every one of his guests a fine set of clothes – But if none of the guests could guess the riddle by the end of the feast, then they must give him thirty sets of new clothes. This was the riddle: “Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth sweetness. What was strong and what was sweet?” The bride’s father glanced at his daughter to see from her face if she knew the answer, but she looked as puzzled by Samson’s words as everyone else did. After three days of feasting, none of the guests had divined Samson’s meaning. On the forth day, the girl’s father sat down next to her and whispered into her ear: “Can’t you entice your husband to give you the answer to his riddle?” Later that night with tears in her eyes, she stroked Samson’s face and told him, “You say you love me, but you are keeping secrets from me. I will not trust in your love until you tell me the answer to your riddle.” She wept every day until at last Samson surrendered the answer to her. On the seventh day, at the end of the feast, one of the guests stood up and announced, “Samson, I have solved your riddle. For what is sweeter than honey or stronger than a lion?” When Samson heard this, he shook his fist with rage and said: “If you had not schemed with my wife, you would not have found out my riddle.” Which meant that he knew that somehow they had got the truth out of his wife. He had no trouble finding clothes to give to his guests He went down to the city of Ashkelon, killed thirty men, and took their clothes. When he had done this, he went to the house of his wife’s family to take away his wife with him. There he discovered that her father had already given her away to another man – a friend of Samson’s. “I thought you had deserted us,” he said simply. “But here, take her sister, she’s no less pretty.” Samson looked at the sister. It was true, she was no less pretty than his wife, but the suggestion was an insult to him, his wife, and her sister. He left the farmhouse promising his revenge, which followed soon after. He caught numerous foxes and then he tied burning torches to their tales. The poor terrified animals ran through the fields and set alight the corn and the nearby farms. The whole sky was lit up with the blaze, and for miles around the Philistines had lost their crops. The cycle of violence continued. The Philistines took revenge on the Israelites for Samson’s deeds. Samson slew the Philistines, either with his bare hands, or with nothing more than the jaw bone of a donkey for a weapon. He was so filled with loathing, strength and fury that an entire Philistine army could not defeat him. He also had a taste for sweetness as well as for war. Sometime later, he fell in love with a woman from the valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah. She was more beautiful and clever than any of the women he had come across before. She had wiles and guile and she understood exactly how to win him over to her point of view. There was almost nothing he would refuse her, if it was in his power. What Samson did not know, was that Delilah was a spy who worked for the Philistines. When their King heard word of the romance he said: “The strong man is caught in our honey trap.” One night, when Samson and Delilah rested in each others arms, she whispered to him: “Tell me my love, what is the source of your great strength?” Samson, fearing betrayal, said: “Tie me with seven green bow strings, and I will be your slave.” While Samson slept, Delilah tied him up with seven green bow strings. She stood back and admired his great limbs bound by the tiny strings. Even his light breathing seemed in danger of breaking them. Somehow she suspected that he had not told her the truth, and so she put him to the test. She called out: “My love, the Philistines are upon you!” Immediately Samson sat up ready to fight, and as he did he snapped the strings with ease. Delilah laughed because she knew that she had been deceived. The next night Delilah said: “Tell me, oh cunning one, what is the secret of your strength? And do not mock me with your lies.” Samson replied: “If you bind me fast with new ropes that have not been used, then I will be quite helpless.” Later, as Samson slept, Delilah tied his limbs with thick new ropes that had never been used before. She pulled the knots tight and this time she was almost sure that he would not be able to escape. Still, she decided to put him to the test. When he was bound fast she called out: “Oh my love, the Philistines are coming for you!” Immediately Samson burst the ropes apart and leapt to his feet. She had been deceived again. This time she did not laugh – she was quite furious with him for tricking her. She knew she must try a different tactic. The next night she upbraided Samson with tears: “How can you say that you love me, when you mock me with your lies?” She kept on pressing him for his secret until his soul was vexed almost to death. At last Samson told her: “Shave off my hair and all my strength will desert me, for I have been a Nazarene to God, ever since I lay in my mother’s womb, and a Nazarene is a holy man who must never shave his hair.” Delilah knew from the grave way he spoke that this was the truth. That night, the strong man fell asleep with his head on her lap. At first she caressed him and ran her fingers through his long hair. For all his strength and wild fury, the handsome giant was totally in her power. This gave her a sense of thrill, but it was mingled with regret for what she was about to do. When he was quite asleep, she took a razor from behind the chair, rubbed olive oil into his thick locks, and shaved every single hair from his head. “My Love,” she cried. “The Philistines are upon thee!” This time she spoke the truth, for she had told the soldiers to come that night and to bring gold with them for her payment. An armed band of Philistines broke down the door and captured the shaven Samson. He was quite helpless to defend himself, for all his strength lay on the ground with his locks of hair. The Philistines blinded their prisoner and bound him in chains, before throwing him into their deepest prison cell – and there he rotted. Some time later, it was the feast day of the Philistine’s god, Dagon. There were great celebrations through the land of the Philistines, for their god had delivered them from Samson’s strength and fury. The King commanded: “Bring him forth from his gaol, and chain him to the pillars of my palace so that we might mock him.”This they did. The house was full of the Lords and Ladies of the Philistine nation and they made sport of the great Samson, the strong man of the Israelites. They threw wine in his face, and poured soup over his head. Others, still crueler, poked and beat him with sticks. During the long months when Samson had lain in prison, nobody had noticed or cared what happened to him. Nobody seemed to understand that as his hair grew back in length, so did his strength. Samson now shook his chains and cried out: “O Lord God, remember me, I pray thee, and strengthen me. I pray thee, only this once, O God, that I may be at once avenged of the Philistines for my two eyes!” Samson took hold of the two middle pillars upon which the house stood, one with his right hand, and the other with his left. As he uprooted them from their foundations, his last words were: “Let me die with the Philistines!” Then the heavy stones of the house came crashing down on the Lords and Ladies of the Philistines and all who were inside. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn247.txt b/text/sn247.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1b13c0a0f36468590254d0b1ababac9668184aac --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn247.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +We've added lots of sound effects for the storm. ", 'Adapted by Bertie from the Book of Jonah in the Bible, with some speeches drawn from the King James version. Long ago, there lived a man called Jonah, the son of Amittai – which means Truth. A son of Truth, and a prophet, Jonah often heard the word of the Lord God. This gift was not one that he appreciated at all, far from it – for although the truth will enlighten us, all too often it will alarm us first. One night, in a dream, God said to him: “Arise. Go to Nineveh, the great city, and cry against it; for their wickedness has come up before me.” When Jonah heard these words, he was afraid. “Oh Lord, what wrong have I done to deserve this, your command? I cannot win. I could go to the great city of Nineveh and call on the people to cease from worshipping idols and to leave their evil ways. Yes, I could do that, but would it make me popular? No. More likely they would grow angry at my ceaseless preaching, and they would throw stones at me. Then again, what if they did listen to my prophecy of doom? Suppose that they hear the word of God? I know you, my Lord, you are gracious and merciful, and you soon repent of your resolve to punish mankind. You will turn away from your plan to undo the city and to destroy the people. My prophecy of destruction shall not come to pass. I shall be a false prophet. A false prophet has the respect of no one.” The Lord God did not answer Jonah, because he had told him once what he must do, and he did not mean to repeat himself. Jonah arose – and he ran. He hurried himself to the port, and paid money to board a ship heading for Spain at the other end of the Mediterranean sea. Perhaps there, far away from the Holy Land, he would no longer hear the voice of truth that disturbed him so. Jonah lay down in his cabin at the bottom of the ship, where he hoped that God would not spot him. The ship set out to sea, and he remained down below, refusing to come up on deck to sample the fresh sea breeze. Some days out, the Lord sent a great wind and stirred up a mighty storm. The ship heaved and creaked, and wondered if it should break apart. The sailors were afraid. They jettisoned their cargo over the side, to lighten the ship. The captain ordered that everyone on board must pray for salvation. Each cried to his own god – but their passenger was nowhere to be seen. The captain went down below to seek him out. “What do you mean, O sleeper? Arise. Call upon your god and pray that he may save us from perishing.” Jonah, reluctantly, and on wobbly legs, climbed up onto the deck. There the sailors were casting lots. Each had to pull a wooden stick out of a bucket – he who drew the shortest would be, they believed, the cause of all their tempestuous trouble. Jonah took his turn and drew the shortest stick. Twice again, they drew lots, and each time the result was the same. “So it is you, oh passenger!” Cried the captain. “What is it that you have done to anger your god that he sends us this storm?” “I am a Hebrew,” admitted Jonah, “and I am hiding from the Lord who made both the sea and the dry land.” Now the sailors were even more afraid, for they saw that a man who runs away from his god must be very wicked indeed. Here was the explanation. The presence of this man was why the storm was raging all around them and threatening to break their ship. “What shall we do to calm the waters?” They asked. “Take me and throw me into the sea,” replied Jonah. “Do this, and the Lord God will calm the waters.” Nevertheless, the sailors cried out: “We beseech thee, O Lord. We beseech thee, let us not perish for this man’s life, and do not make us spill innocent blood.” They returned to their places and rowed hard against the tumultuous storm, but all their efforts were in vain, for the angry sea was far stronger than their puny arms. So in great sorrow, they picked up Jonah and cast him over the side of the ship into the stormy waters. Immediately, the sea ceased from raging. The calm miracle made a great impression on the sailors. They offered up a sacrifice of thanks to the Hebrew Lord and made their vows to him. Though Jonah was tossed by the sea, he did not perish, for the Lord sent a giant sea creature to swallow him whole. Some say it was a whale, others a shark, and still others say a unique monster from the deep. Jonah himself had no opinion on the matter. All he knew was that he found himself on the inside of the mysterious fish from God, in its belly. There he remained, like a baby in the womb – only far less comfortable, for three days and nights as the sea creature swam the seas. All the while, Jonah prayed unto the Lord, his God, from out of the fish’s stomach. “In my suffering, oh Lord, I cry to you from the belly of hell. You have cast me into the deep, into the midst of the seas. The waves passed over me, the waters dragged me down, even to my soul, and the weeds wrapped around my head. I pray to you, and I will make sacrifices to you again, for I know that salvation comes from the Lord.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn248.txt b/text/sn248.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b9189491c4c919a2f8b3bb7d43cf82c9c775415d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn248.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The word "gest" is old English, and a bit of a pun. It could mean a "jest" or a "guest" and it has an ancient meaning as a "heroic deed". Normally Robin likes to entertain his guests in Sherwood Forest with food and wine, before relieving them of their gold. But in this story his guest is a sad Knight who has no money to surrender. Instead, Robin lends him money so that he can repay a loan to the cruel Abbot. As in all Robin Hood stories, anybody in authority is a baddie (except King Richard) - and that includes the leaders of the church who are abusing their power. More episodes will follow. The Guest of Robin Hood Of all the thieves and highway robbers who have ever lived, by far the politest was Robin Hood. He liked to entertain those he robbed as guests in his own home. Although his home was a rough camp in Greenwood, which was in the thickest and darkest part of Sherwood forest. His table was always heavy with rich food and wine. He was very choosy about those whom he invited to his lair. He only liked to rob the best sort of people; nobles, knights, barons, and leading figures of the church. He treated his victims with such great courtesy and hospitality that afterwards some of them said that it had been a privilege to have been robbed by Robin Hood. One day Robin and his men had been out shooting game in the King’s forest. It was this habit that had made them outlaws in the first place – for the King’s brother, John, had declared that all the forests belonged to him – and anyone who hunted there without his permission would face severe punishment. King Richard himself would not have deprived the foresters of food, but he was away fighting wars overseas. While he was away, his brother John ruled England with cruelty and injustice. On this day the hunting had been good, and Robin Hood and his men were looking forward to a fine dinner. “But let us not be greedy and keep all this fine food for ourselves,” said Robin. “I will not eat until I have a worthy guest at my table. Little John, go and find me a fitting guest and invite him to dine with us.” Little John’s real name was John Little, but everyone called him Little John because he was so huge. He was six foot five inches tall and as broad as a tree. He was Robin’s most trusted partner in crime, and feared nothing and nobody – not even Robin. Although he was hungry, he agreed to go and find a guest. He took two of the best men – Will Scarlet and Much the miller’s son. They went up to the highway to wait for a suitable guest to come along. The road was quiet and they waited an hour or more for a suitable victim. At last a knight came riding down the road. As he drew near they saw that he was lost in thought, and there was a look of great sadness on his face. The three men jumped out and pointed their arrows at his chest. Their long bows were so powerful that they could easily pass through any armoured breast plate or chain mail. “Cheer up gentle Sir Knight,” called out Little John. “You are invited to the table of my master for dinner tonight.” The knight was startled and replied, “But I plan to dine in Barnslydale tonight, for tomorrow I must go to see the Abbot on urgent business.” “Tis a pity,” said Little John, still aiming his arrow at the knight’s chest, “For my master will take great offence should you refuse his kind invitation.” “And who might your master be?” asked the knight. “His name should be known to all who pass by Sherwood Forest, for it is Robin Hood.” “In that case I shall come,” said the knight, “For I have heard much about him.” Will Scarlet placed a blindfold over the knight’s eyes, and they led him through the forest to the hideaway. Robin greeted the knight with great courtesy; “Welcome to Greenwood gentle Sir Knight, all ours is yours.” They washed their hands together in the stream, and then they dined on pheasant, trout, cuts of venison, and barley bread, then swilled it down with plenty of red wine. “I have not eaten such a dinner in these last three months,” declared the knight, “and if you visit my castle, I shall make you a fine feast in return.” “Ah,” said Robin, “I would much prefer, kind sir, that you paid before you leave – for it is the custom in Greenwood that a peasant’s son such as I should not pay for a knight.” The sad expression returned to the knight’s face. “I have but ten shillings,” he said. Robin had not entertained such a poor guest at his table before. “If what you say is true,” he said, “I will not take one penny off you. Indeed, I shall lend you money from my own coffers.” Robin sent Little John to look through the Knight’s belongings. When he had checked them he said, “Our gentle knight is indeed a pauper.” “How come so poor?” Asked Robin. The sad knight told his story: He had a son who was a fine, strong, but hot-tempered young man. He liked to joust, and in a contest he had killed the son of a baron. The baron demanded blood money of four hundred pounds, and if it was not paid, the knight’s son would be put on trial for murder and executed. In those days, four hundred pounds was a great deal of money, and although the knight had a steady income from his lands, he did not have such a sum ready to give. He was forced to borrow from a wealthy churchman, the Abbot of the Monastery of St. Mary. The Abbot gave the knight just three months to repay the loan, and if he failed to pay back the money in that time, the knight must give the Abbot all his land instead. The time of the loan was almost up, and the Knight was travelling to the Abbot to plead for more time to pay, “But the Abbot did not become rich by showing mercy,” said the knight, “and therefore I fully expect that by tomorrow evening I will truly be a landless pauper. I plan to take a ship and join King Richard who is fighting in the Holy Lands.” "Too many good knights are overseas," said Robin, "which is why there is so much injustice at home. No, by St. Mary who is dear to me, I shall make you a loan of four hundred pounds and you shall repay the Abbot." The next day at the Monastery of St. Mary, a monk spoke to the Abbot: “Your Worshipful Grace... Today the knight must repay his loan or forfeit his lands.” “He will surely forfeit,” replied the Abbot, “for I do not think he will find four hundred pounds in so short a time.” When the knight and Little John arrived outside the Monastery, they changed into their poor clothes again, before entering and asking to see the Abbot. The porter at the gate said, “That surely is the shabbiest and saddest looking Knight that I ever did see.” Inside the main hall, the knight knelt down before Abbot. The Abbot did not greet him, but said straight out, “Well, have you brought my money?” “Not one penny,” replied the knight. The monk said, "Then why did you come to waste His Grace’s time like this? Your lands are lost. Go away." “I came,” said the knight, “to ask for mercy and more time to pay.” “You shall not have a minute more,” said the Abbot. “Your lands are mine. Be off.” “If you give me more time, I shall serve you faithfully,” said the knight. “Show mercy, for it is good to help one who has need.” At this the Abbot swore a great oath and roundly cursed him. “Out false knight! Speed out of my hall!” he shouted. “I am no false knight,” replied the debtor. With that he opened his bag and emptied the gold onto the floor. “If you had shown mercy, I would have repaid your debt and served you faithfully, but as it is, here is your money. Now the papers to my land, Your Grace, if you please.” The Abbot had no choice but to hand back the deeds to the knight’s land – although he was sorry to do so, for it was worth a good deal more than four hundred pounds in gold. Two day’s later, the knight returned to his castle wearing his sad expression. “Are we paupers?” Asked his wife. “No,” said he, brightening up, "we are saved. God bless Robin Hood!” A year passed, and the knight gathered together four hundred pounds to repay his debt to Robin. He also made 100 arrows and had them plumbed with peacock feathers as a gift to show his gratitude. A good friar arranged a meeting with Robin beneath a great oak tree in Greenwood. On the way, the knight stopped to watch a wrestling match between the son of a nobleman and a peasant. The two men pushed, grappled, arm locked, tripped, and threw each other, but the peasant was the stronger, and he soon had the nobleman’s son pinned to the ground and unable to move. He claimed his prize – a pound in gold – but the nobleman’s friends would not pay. Instead, the judge of the contest drew his sword and was about to kill the peasant for his impudence. Seeing this, the knight rode up and declared, “The man that harms the victor of this match will have to contend with me!” The nobleman’s friends did not want to take on a knight, and they released the peasant. “Follow me,” said the knight, “and I will take you to join Robin Hood and his men.” The peasant agreed, for he knew that if he did not, the noblemen would get him later. The knight arrived late for his meeting with Robin, and when he explained what had delayed him on the way, Robin said, “Gentle Sir Knight, consider the four hundred pounds a gift, for I will not accept a penny from a man who stands up for justice.” “Then take these,” said the knight, and he showed Robin the 100 arrows plumbed with peacock feathers. That evening the gentle knight was a guest at Robin’s table for a second time, and they feasted until they could eat no more. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn249.txt b/text/sn249.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..4964c61e27c4aa404d9fce60e692afe0b30328f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn249.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Sheriff who Came to Dinner with Robin Hood Robin Hood liked to invite guests to dine with him at his table in Sherwood Forest. If his guests were rich and powerful he would ask them to pay for their dinner with gold or jewels - But if they were poor or down on their luck, he would help them out with money from his own coffers. In this story, I’ll tell you how Robin entertained the Sheriff of Nottingham – who was very rich and powerful indeed. Robin Hood’s most trusted outlaw was Little John. In fact, there was nothing little about him at all - he was huge. If there was one thing that he really loved, it was his food. In particular, he liked to eat venison – which is the meat of deer. There were plenty of deer in Sherwood Forest, but it was forbidden to shoot them by punishment of death. The law didn’t stop Little John because he feared nothing or nobody. Sometimes he would arrive at Robin Hood’s lair with a bag full of hares, partridges, and pheasants and he would say to Robin, “Come on my friend, let’s get a good fire going. I’ll soon have these ready for roasting and what a fine dinner we shall have.” But quite often Robin would make Little John wait for his dinner until a rich and respectable guest had come to join them. At those times, when Little John was hungry, he would become very tetchy and bad tempered indeed. All the other robbers who lived with Robin Hood would stay out of his way, because nobody wanted to get into a fight with a man as big and strong as Little John. One day, Robin asked Little John to go into the city of Nottingham to see if he could pick up any news or gossip. It so happened that on that same day there was a shooting competition in the market place. Little John could not resist a chance to show of his skill with his bow and arrow, and he paid the fee of one penny to join the contest. Each archer had to shoot an arrow into a post. Those who missed dropped out, and those that hit it went on to the next round when the posts were moved further back. Little John split six posts down the middle with his arrows. Nobody else could match him. The Sheriff of Nottingham gave him the first prize and declared:- “This man is the best archer that I ever did see. Say now, my hearty young man, what is your name and where were you born?” “I was born in Yorkshire,” replied Little John, "and my name is Reynold Grenelef." “Well then, Reynold Grenelef,” said the Sheriff, “Come and work for me. I will pay you 20 marks a year and give you food and shelter.” If he had known who Little John really was, he would have taken him not to his house, but to the gaol - for the Sheriff was the law around those parts, and the law had no greater enemies than Robin Hood and Little John. At first Little John tried to think of a cheeky reply to the Sheriff’s offer, and then he thought to himself, “So help me. I shall be the worst servant he ever had.” And he said out loud: “I thank your Lordship. I shall come to your house this evening and begin my service for you. I promise that you will never have another servant to the like of Reynold Grenelef.” That evening, Little John settled into his new home in the servant’s quarters in the mansion belonging to the Sheriff of Nottingham. He had not eaten all day, and so he called out to the steward who was in charge of the dining hall, “Good steward I pray, when will dinner be?” To which the Steward replied:, “There will be no dinner for you until the master gets back.” “And when will that be?” asked Little John. “Not until next week, for he’s gone hunting with the Abbot.” At this, Little John picked up the steward and began to shake him. “What? A whole week without food? That will be the worse for my temper, and your head, for I swear I’ll take a crowbar and beat you with it.” The butler heard the row, and came to give the new servant a clout round the ears, but when he saw the size of Little John, he held back. Little John pushed past him and kicked door open. Inside the kitchen he found a keg of wine, which he cracked open and began to guzzle from it. Then he seized a leg of lamb out of the pantry, and started to tear chunks of meat off it with his teeth. The cook had not seen Little John before, and was amazed that a stranger should dare to burst into his kitchen and help himself to food and drink. He came up to Little John and gave him three good punches in the belly. Little John looked up and said, “Give me more of those. I liked them well.” Then the cook drew his sword, then Little John drew his. As neither would back away, they set about each other with their blades. Out on the road they fought, and across the green. Their clashing steel made so much noise that you might have thought that two whole armies were in battle. Their swords were made thick and strong for breaking open armour. Neither man grew tired as they wielded their heavy weapons for over an hour. “I swear by my true life,” said Little John, “that you are the best swordsman that I ever did see. If only you can shoot as well with a bow, then you should come with me to Greenwood and join the band of Robin Hood. You’ll have three new sets of clothes a year and 20 marks for your purse.” And the cook replied, “Set down your sword and we shall be friends.” As they were both hungry after the fight, they went back to the Sheriff’s house and stuffed themselves with sweet meats from the pantry. After that, they gathered all the precious things that they could find around the house. They took goblets and plates, trays and caskets. Nor did they forget the silver spoons. They found a crowbar and broke into the safe where they found plenty of money in gold coins. All this they put into a chest and rode off with it to Greenwood and Robin Hood. Robin was greatly amused by Little John’s story of his time in the service of the Sheriff, and he was indeed pleased with the chest full of loot - but he said, “I cannot eat off the Sheriff’s plate unless his Lordship joins us here in Greenwood for dinner.” Thinking this over, Little John said, “Then let me fetch the Sheriff to you.” He rode off across the forest to the Sheriff’s hunting lodge, and waited for him to return back from the day’s hunting with his hounds. When the Sheriff saw his new servant he said, “So look who it is - Reynold Grenelef. What brings you here my man?” Little John knelt before him and said, “Good master. Five miles from here is one of the fairest sights I ever did see: Tender young hares and a herd of sixty or more deer. I did not dare aim my arrows for fear of the law, but thought I’d come and to tell you what I saw.” The Sheriff replied that it would be a delight to watch Little John display his hunting skills with the longbow and arrow and added, “Fear not the law, for I am the law here and I would love to see this sport.” Then Little John led the Sheriff across the forest but not to the hunting grounds, for he took him instead to the camp of Robin Hood and his band of outlaws. When the Sheriff saw that he was surrounded by brigands he exclaimed, “Reynold Grenelef. You have betrayed me!” Little John replied with, “Master, I swear it was not my fault, for your steward and your butler would not give me dinner.” Then Little John made the Sheriff take off his fine clothes and gave them to his cook, who put them on.', "Robin invited the Sheriff, just wearing his shirt and britches, to sit down at his table with his cook on one side and his 'servant', Little John, on the other. He placed before him his own silver plate, and filled his own goblet with wine. The feast was a good one, but the Sheriff had lost his appetite. He did not believe that he would leave the forest alive.", '“Cheer up Lord Sheriff,” said Robin, “for I give you your life. You can live here with me for a year and I’ll teach you to be an outlaw.” The Sheriff replied, “Better that in the morning you cut off my head.” So Robin said: “Better in the morning that you should go free, but first you must swear an oath by St. Mary that you will never do any harm to me or my men.” The Sheriff was too proud to agree to such a promise right away, but in the morning, after a night as the guest of Robin Hood, he thought better of it, and he agreed to swear the oath: “For as long as I live I shall be Robin Hood’s best friend, and if any day or night, by water or by land, I shall ever find Robin Hood or any of his men, I shall help them in any way I can.” When he had sworn his oath, the Sheriff went on his way home, still wearing just his shirt and breeches, and riding on a mule. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn25.txt b/text/sn25.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..0f051d5929ac2349f4a5837ce6c8cd5202007d4b --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn25.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Bertie, the guiding spirit of Storynory, is a frog who likes to tell stories about the time when he was a human prince. His adventures range far and wide, and this one is no exception. We learn how when Bertie was a teenage prince, the King was afraid that he was growing into a "softy". In order to toughen him up, he packed Bertie off to a boot camp in Scotland.', "We think Bertie's back on form with this story, and we hope that you are going to enjoy it!", 'Read by Natasha.Story by Bertie. Duration 16.40. When Bertie was a small wee prince, his father, the king, was planning to pack him off to a boarding school in Scotland. The king had been to that boarding school, and the king’s father had been to it, and his grandfather... Not to mention his great grandfather, and his great great grandfather, and who had also been school captain. All of them had suffered terribly at that school and had absolutely hated it, but naturally, they sent their sons there because it was the family tradition. Fortunately, Bertie’s mother was still alive in those days, and she said, “Absolutely not,” and, “Not on your nelly.” She made the king promise never to send Bertie to boarding school, and as the king kept his promises, he didn’t, even after the queen passed up to a higher kingdom. And so Bertie went to the day school in the palace. One afternoon, when Bertie was already a teenage prince, the king came to watch him play in a school soccer match. Bertie was in goal. It wasn’t his normal position, but the regular keeper was in the hospital with frostbite, and Bertie was absolutely frozen. The king thought, “My boy looks a bit pathetic hopping up and down like a rabbit on the goal line,”', "When Prince Boris came running into the penalty box with the ball at his feet, the king shouted, “Bertie, come out,” and Bertie dived towards the ball, but Boris 'accidentally on purpose' kicked Bertie’s head and scored in the corner of the net before doing a cartwheel, while his father, the Grand Duke Von Clutterbuck shouted, “Great shot Boris. Now put another one past that weedy keeper.”", 'There was a cut above Bertie’s eye and he was quite dazed. The teacher shouted, “Play on, it’s just a scratch.” Bertie was so dizzy that he tripped over a blade of grass and Boris easily scored a second goal. In fact, by the time of the final whistle, the score was five-nil. That evening, when the king was sitting by the fire with the wicked queen, he said, “Do you know. I”m rather worried that Bertie’s turning out to be a bit of a softy.” “So am I. So am I," sympathised the wicked stepmother, who was a very different character from Bertie’s real mother, and greatly regretted that Bertie wasn’t away at boarding school. She went on, “Did you hear my dear, that after your old school was closed down for cruelty to children, it reopened as an exclusive, five star, all-inclusive, boot camp?" “A boot camp,” echoed the king. “Do you mean it puts on lots of healthy activities like obstacle courses, cold baths, cross country runs? That sort of thing?” “Exactly,” said the queen.', "“Just the ticket for a boy who's going a bit soft,” agreed the king.", 'And so it was. With the best of intentions, the king booked Bertie into the boot camp, because of course, it wasn’t boarding school – but it was the next worst thing. It was summer in the highlands of Scotland, which meant that when it wasn’t raining, clouds of midges descended from the sky and ate you alive. The water in the loch was so cold that if you went swimming in it, you would come out looking like the Loch Ness Monster. The windows in the old school house were so drafty, that at night it sounded like a pack of ghosts was trying to get in. In fact, it was just the perfect setting for an all-inclusive boot camp. Prince Boris’ father, who liked to keep up with the latest trends in the palace, sent his son there too, which was doubly unfortunate because you see, Bertie couldn’t stand Boris. Dear Major Tim, I commend to your care my stepson, Prince Bertie. Hitherto he has led a sheltered life within the confines of our palace. It is His Majesty the King’s fear that Bertie is turning into a softy. We require a SHORT SHARP SHOCK to straighten him out. Please provide him with your FULLEST service. Yours Hilda HR P.S. Give him HELL. Major Tim had two sorts of clients. Some were tough kids who had been in trouble with the law, and the authorities sent them to his camp to see if a taste of the outdoors would sort them out. Others were from rich families and had parents like fashion designers, celebrity chefs, and retired rock stars. Normally Major Tim mixed his clients together so that they got to know people from different backgrounds. But this time he decided to do things a bit differently, as Prince Bertie discovered when he arrived the next day. “Hi there. I’m Prince Bertie,” said our hero, as he threw his rucksack onto to a metal bunk bed. A boy with an extremely short haircut stared at him as if he was an alien from out of space. He jabbed a finger in the direction of Bertie and said, “Did I ken ye right? Your first name is Prince?” “Ah actually no. My first name is Bertie. I’m a prince. You can call me just Bertie,” “I’ll call you what I like. Do ye ken?” “Ah, yes. I think I do.” “And my name is Hans,” said a tall boy with a strong German accent. "I will call you Prince Scum because that is a name that I like very much, HA!" Half a dozen voices laughed and said, “Good one Hans!” Because all the others in the group were tough kids, and they didn’t have very high regard for princes. When Bertie went out of the dorm to go to the bathroom, he wisely stopped outside the door and listened to what the boys inside were saying about him. He heard Hans’s voice. “I have a funny joke. In the middle of the night, we will tie Prince Scum to the bed with a climbing rope, and shave off all his hair.” There was general laughter around the room because everyone clearly thought that would be a jolly funny joke. And so Bertie went to the storeroom and found a cricket bat. On his return, he climbed up onto his bunk bed with the bat and let it be known that if anyone came near him in the night, they would receive a Six. Although none of the boys played cricket they understood that a Six with a cricket bat would probably hurt quite a lot, and they forgot their plan to tie him to the bed and went to sleep. The following morning in the dining hall, as the newcomers to the boot camp tried to eat the world’s lumpiest porridge and the coldest, hardest toast, Boris spotted his fellow prince and called out, “Hey Bertie. I hear you didn’t sleep much last night." There was general laughter all around the hall because the story of Bertie and the cricket bat had already got around. It was true, he hadn’t been able to sleep much, as he was on the lookout for attackers all night long. Over the following two weeks they tried all sorts of new activities such as a canoeing expedition on Loch Gorm, during which Bertie capsized dozens of times and was soaked through for two whole days; climbing, in which Bertie found that he could cling to the tiniest of pimples on the rock face of a mountain, and somehow scramble up an impossible cliff with a looping overhang at the top, abseiling down a rope from a terrifying height, endless hikes up mountains through the drizzle and mist, during which Bertie somehow managed to appreciate the beauty of Scotland. He thought it quite remarkable that if you arrange rocks, thistles, mists and gushing streams in just the right fashion, they become stunningly attractive to the eye. It was just a pity about the rain and the biting attacks by flying insects, which the Scottish lads called, “wee beasties.” But a greater torment than the “wee beasties,” were the boys from Hamburg and Glasgow, who still made it clear that they didn’t think much of princes whose fathers paid for them to go to all-inclusive boot camps. He shared his supply of chocolate, which softened their attitude a little bit. He stood up to Hans, who threatened to punch him, and then backed off. That won him a little respect. But as they approached the end of the boot camp. Bertie had still not made any friends. He didn’t feel miserable. Two weeks of wet and cold had made him indifferent to almost everything. Captain Tim wondered if he had given Bertie a hard enough time to satisfy the wicked queen. He concluded, “Probably not. He’s not cracked a bit. The young prince has had it way too easy.” So, for the grand finale to the boot camp he thought up a new activity that he was certain would sort Bertie out. It was a game of hide-and-seek, only with a few original twists. Boris led a group of seekers. Bertie led a group of hiders. The major borrowed a pack of hunting dogs. “Right now Boris. Here’s something I pinched from the laundry that will help the dogs get the scent.” And he handed him a pair of royal blue Y-fronts with a royal crest embroidered on the hem. They could only have belonged to Prince Bertie. “Why thanks Major Tim,” said Boris. "Oh, and when you catch anyone, chuck ‘em in the coal-hole for the night." “Right oh,” said Boris. The coal hole was a cavern beneath the school. It would make an excellent dungeon – cold, damp, dirty, and pitch black. It was said to be haunted by the ghosts of boys who had died while at the boarding school. Major Tim thought to himself, “Well if Bertie doesn’t go back to the wicked queen crying that he had the worst time of his life, then my name’s Florence Nightingale.” As darkness fell, Bertie’s group split up and ran into the woods. Billy ran into the barn and hid in some haystacks. Hans found a cave in some rocks. The others dug holes in the ground and covered themselves with leaves, or built shelters and disguised them with bushes. Bertie ran as far as he could. When he heard the sound of barking he thought, “Oh-oh. They’ve set the hounds on us. That’s not playing fair.” He started to splash along a stream to put them off the scent. He thought of running across the road and hiding in the next-door farm, but that was out of bounds. Then he had a better idea: He saw a branch of a tree that was overhanging the stream. He pulled himself up onto it and started to climb upwards. He went higher and higher until he was lost among the canopies. The dogs were all over the woods and the others were being unearthed like so many rabbits. He heard Boris shout, “Bertie I can see you. Come out with your hands up.” He knew it was just a bluff because Boris was also cursing the dogs for not finding Bertie’s scent. When he had rounded up all eleven of the other group and taken them off to the coal hole, he came back again for Bertie. It was getting on for midnight. Bertie was growing tired clinging to a branch high up in his tree, but he listened with satisfaction as Boris led the dogs across the road and into the next-door farm. When the hunters finally gave up and went back home, Bertie climbed down from his tree. He was tempted to go back to bed by himself, but then he thought of the others lying in the dark coal-hole. He didn’t care for them much, and he thought it might serve them right. Then he felt a sense of injustice rising up inside him. “Nobody deserves to be treated like that,” he thought. And so he sneaked past the sleeping sentry, unbolted the coal hole, and released the prisoners. They came out covered in dirt and spluttering with coal dust. The sentry, who was the daughter of a TV weather man, awoke, but she was frightened by the dark figures emerging out of the coal hole, and she pretended to be still asleep. They all ran back to the showers and spent the night tucked up in bed. In the morning, an angry farmer called to say that a pack of dogs had been running through his crops. Major Tim was not pleased with Boris. As for Bertie, need I say that he was a bit of a hero? Even Hans shook his hand and apologised for calling him Prince Scum. Billy patted him on the back and said, “Now I ken you’re a great lad, even if you are a prince.” Bertie invited them all to come and stay at the palace for Christmas. He knew that the wicked queen would hardly be pleased, but he didn’t really care about that. He danced with the prettiest girl at the end of the camp jig – but of course, he didn’t forget the lovely Princess Beatrice. Major Tim wrote to the Wicked Queen saying, “I gave him my worst, but Prince Bertie is a tough nut and a hard case, and if he ever wants a job in the marines, I’d be glad to recommend him. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn250.txt b/text/sn250.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..03763230c9a2cf73c40509c3d7e35658f88855ca --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn250.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Cleopatra – the last queen of Ancient Egypt – has fascinated writers and artists for the past 2000 years. The roman poets often wrote about her (not too kindly). Shakespeare turned her life into a tragic play – Antony and Cleopatra. Hollywood celebrated her loves and life in an epic and very costly film staring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. She was the lover of two of the most powerful Romans of her time – Julius Caesar and then Mark Antony. But the Romans were also her enemies, and eventually brought Egypt into their empire. She was fabulously wealthy, witty, charming, intelligent, educated – and a woman with power and influence. Our story tells her life. Written by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Proofread by Claire Deakin. Hello, this is Natasha, and I am here with a story that is actually a piece of history. In fact, it’s a biography. A biography, as you probably know, is the story of a person’s life. The person in this case is one of the wealthiest and most glamorous women who ever lived. Her name was Cleopatra, and she was the last queen of Ancient Egypt. Her life was exciting and brilliant – but be warned, she met a tragic end. But first, here’s three facts which you might have heard about Cleopatra: I bet even your mum and dad could have told you those facts! But actually, they would definitely have been wrong about the first one. In fact, Cleopatra wasn’t Egyptian, she was Greek. She was a member of the Ptolemy family who had ruled Egypt since the time of the Greek general, Alexander the Great. The second fact about Cleopatra rolled up in the carpet, is not so far from the truth. The ancient historians say that she was smuggled in to see Julius Caesar, but they talk about a sack, rather than a beautiful carpet. And as for her beauty; impressions on her coins show a rather hook-nosed face – and the historian Plutarch says that her irresistible charm lay more in her wit and conversation than her looks. First let me tell you a bit about her family. 300 years before she was born, Alexander the Great from Macedonia in Northern Greece had conquered a large part of the known world. His empire stretched around the shores of the Mediterranean sea. Ptolemy was one of his generals, and he became ruler of Egypt. His family ruled Egypt right up to Roman times. If you think that your own family is a little bit difficult sometimes, just be glad that you are not a Ptolemy. Although they were magnificently rich and powerful, being born into the family that ruled Egypt was a mixed blessing. They did not like to share their power with people outside the royal family. For that reason, brothers and sisters were often expected to marry each other. Even worse, they were prone to murdering each other – often by poison. If you were king or queen of Egypt, you could live a life of fabulous luxury, but you would never feel entirely safe. At least a ruler of Egypt would always be rich. The Egyptian pharaohs had perfected the art of collecting taxes. It was a wealthy country, and when the Ptolemys took over, they raked in the money. The crops grew amazingly well because Egypt had a wonderful combination: sunshine and water. Every summer, the River Nile flooded its banks and watered the fields. Its mines produced gold – which of course contributed immensely to its wealth – and also salt which was used to embalm the Egyptian mummies in their tombs. The city of Alexandria was built on wide sweeping streets. Eight chariots could ride alongside each other down its main avenue. The pavements were sheltered from the Egyptian sun by colonnades. Almost every race in the world could be seen there. Giant hawk-headed statues guarded the temples and palaces. Out to sea, a 400 foot tall beacon blazoned in the sky at night. The lighthouse of Alexandria was one of the highest buildings in its time – and one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The most powerful city of the age was Rome, but the money and glamour were to be found in Alexandria. I’ll just make a little note here about dates. When we are talking about years that are BC – or Before Christ – we are counting back. The year 10 BC is closer to our time than the year 100 BC. Cleopatra was born in the year 69 BC and lived to 30 BC. Her father, Auletes, was king of the most important country in the Middle East. But on the other side of the Mediterranean sea, in Italy, the City of Rome was flexing its muscles. The Roman army was a highly scientific fighting machine. It was not invincible, but only the most warlike people could fend them off. The Egyptians had many talents, but in a battle, they were no match for the Romans. Their main advantage was wealth. Roman leaders always needed money – and in return, the Senate declared that Egypt was a, “Friend and ally of the Roman People.” That meant that they wouldn’t invade it, at least for the time being. The Romans were fairly conservative people. In their view, women should be loyal wives and good mothers. The idea that a woman could rule as a Queen was – to a Roman – quite unthinkable, barbaric even. The Egyptians were far more broadminded. Cleopatra was brought up to be a ruler – and the Ptolemaic idea of a ruler was somebody who was highly educated. Her city was a centre of learning. The Library of Alexandria was the greatest in the world and many of the best scholars were based there. The young Cleopatra had to do her homework well. She must know her Greek plays and philosophy. She had to practice speech-making. She was fluent in several languages. She took a deep interest in medicine, which in those days overlapped with the arts of magic and poison. She was as clever as she was educated. Many Romans saw her as an exotic witch – someone like Medea or Circe from Greek mythology. Auletes died when Cleopatra was 18 years old, in 51 BC. She now ruled Egypt with her younger brother, Ptolemy. As was the custom in her family, Ptolemy was also her husband. It was a difficult time: the Nile failed to flood, causing famines. It was not long before Ptolemy and Cleopatra fell out. She had to flee from the country together with her sister, Arsinoe. Now that Cleopatra was out of the way, her younger brother Ptolemy ruled alone – officially. But he was just a boy. In practice, his advisors made the real decisions. And soon they faced a crisis – one that would decide the future of Egypt. Two Roman generals were fighting each other for the leadership of Rome, and for world domination. One was called Julius Caesar, the other Pompey. In 48 BC, Caesar defeated Pompey at a battle in Greece. Pompey fled by ship with this family. He headed for Egypt where the old king Auletes had been his friend. For Egypt, this was a diplomatic crisis – old loyalties prompted them to back Pompey, but it looked like Caesar was already the master of the world. The clique of advisers who ruled in place of Ptolemy came up with a simple solution. They sent a small boat out to Pompey’s ship. The Roman general climbed into the boat, and began to sail ashore. On the way the Egyptian sailors murdered him. I am afraid to say that they cut off his head. When Julius Caesar arrived in Alexandria a few days later, they gave it to him. They thought he would be pleased. In fact, he was horrified. Pompey was his enemy, but he was also a noble Roman and a great general. He deserved to be treated with dignity. Fortunately for Cleopatra, she was out of the country, and could not be blamed for this crime. She knew that she had to see Caesar to win his backing. The Roman commander was staying in the palace in Alexandria, and it was surrounded by Ptolemy’s soldiers. How could she get through? She was a clever woman, and not short of enterprising ideas. She climbed into a sack, and her trusted servant Apollodorus slung her over his shoulder. He carried Cleopatra into the palace, saying that he had a present for the great Caesar. He stood before the Roman leader, and emptied the sack. When the exotic young queen sprung into view, the Roman general was amazed and totally enchanted. It was one of the most stunning entrances of all time. Ptolemy heard that his sister was in the palace, and that she seemed to be getting on well with Caesar. He flew into a panic, and ran out of the gates shouting that he had been betrayed. In fact, Julius Caesar said that he wanted the brother and sister to rule Egypt together. Outside, the Egyptian army, led by Ptolemy’s courtiers, began to attack the palace. Caesar’s Roman guards where heavily outnumbered but they were much better soldiers. The struggle spilled over into the harbour, where ships were set alight. The fire spread, and warehouses around the waterfront began to burn. Then the flames reached the great library, and many of the most famous works of literature and philosophy were burned and lost for all time. Julius Caesar, then in his 50s, was so besotted with the 21 year old queen that he was in no hurry to return back to Rome. It was not just her looks that attracted him. Plutarch – a historian from Roman times – says that it was, “a delight merely to hear the sound of her voice with which, like an instrument of many strings, she could flit from one language to another.” It took six months to win the war against the forces of Ptolemy, and after that Caesar still did not want to go home. Cleopatra took him on a cruise up the Nile in her Royal barge. Eventually, Caesar could linger no longer in Egypt – he sailed for Rome. Soon after he left, Cleopatra gave birth to his son, whom she named Caesareon. No doubt she hoped that the Roman leader would declare his son as his legal heir. If she thought so, she was much mistaken. The Roman people would not accept the child of a foreign queen as their ruler. By the time the Romans had finished slaughtering one another, two men emerged as the victors. Both were friends of the dead Julius Caesar. One was a tall, flamboyant, and good-looking general called Mark Antony. Plutarch said that he resembled a statue of Hercules. The other was a young man endowed with great political cunning – his name was Octavian. Octavian was not so dashing, and not much of a general – but he had others to do the fighting for him. His claim to greatness was that his uncle, Julius Caesar, had adopted him as his heir. Octavian and Mark Antony split the empire between them. While Octavian ruled Rome and the West, Mark Antony came out to the Middle East. Cleopatra soon realised that her future depended on this new Roman. She had already made a big impression on one Roman general. She decided to make an even bigger one on the next. This time, subtlety played no part in her plans. Mark Antony was camped with his army at Tarsus, in what is now Southern Turkey. It was then part of the Roman Empire, and later on it would be the birthplace of St. Paul. Cleopatra sailed up river to meet Antony. The wonderful description of her barge made its way from Plutarch’s history into Shakespeare’s play, Antony and Cleopatra. Poor Antony could not help but be overwhelmed by the amazing sight of the queen on her barge. Cleopatra invited Antony and his generals to a lavish dinner. At the end she gave each of them fabulously expensive gifts. The next day Antony invited Cleopatra to his camp. He could not begin to match the opulence of her hospitality. The queen teased him that he was a man with the simple tastes of a soldier. Antony fell madly in love with Cleopatra. Antony soon made his base in Alexandria, where he lived in the palace with Cleopatra. Like Caesar before him, he was deeply impressed by the amazing country. Cleopatra took him on a fishing trip on the Nile. When he failed to catch anything, she ordered her servant to fix a salted fish to his line. He pulled it out – and was about to boast of his catch – when he noticed that it had already been filleted and prepared for the dinner table. Cleopatra laughed and teased him saying: “Leaving the fishing to us. You, Mark Antony, are a general, and your prey are cities, kingdoms, and continents.” But not all Antony’s military campaigns went well. He led an expedition against the Parthians – fierce people of Asia whom the Romans never succeeded in conquering. Cleopatra provided much of the money to fund the campaign. The Parthians were famous for their cavalry tactics – their horsemen could turn and shoot arrows behind them as they galloped. Antony marched into Parthian territory – but he made the classic mistake of stretching his supply lines too far. He had to retreat, and on the way back a large part of his army died. The humiliation for Antony was a blow to his reputation. In Rome, the young and wily Octavian was plotting to be sole ruler of the empire. He took advantage of Antony’s weakness, and started a propaganda campaign against him. He said that Antony had been growing soft while he was out in the east, that he was a drunkard who had been seduced by a foreign queen. Now this queen, he warned, wanted to take over Rome, and Antony planned to help her. Antony replied to Octavian’s insults with insults of his own, but he also wrote to Octavian asking that they remain friends. Octavian’s reply was to declare war on Cleopatra. Of course his ambition was to eliminate Mark Antony, but he understood that a new civil war would be unpopular. It sounded so much better to tell the Romans that they were going to war against a foreign queen who was plotting to take them over. The fate of Antony and Cleopatra was decided off the coast of Northern Greece. This was the great sea battle of Actium in 31 BC. A lot of war is about waiting, and choosing a favourable time and place to fight. The Battle of Actium was proceeded by a long hot wait. Octavian’s forces, commanded by his general, Agrippa, camped on one side of a narrow straight of water. Mark Antony’s forces, a collection of Romans, Egyptians, and soldiers from kingdoms all over the Middle East, camped on the other side. Cleopatra was with Mark Antony. She had a huge cache of gold with her. Mark Antony’s Roman generals did not like the sight of a woman. They thought it was unRoman for a female to have so much influence. She was rude to some of them. During the long delay, several of Antony’s oldest friends crossed over to join Octavian’s side. It was a huge blow to the morale of his troops. Eventually Antony and Cleopatra decided that the time had come to fight the battle at sea. They mustered their ships and began to sail out to meet the opposition. Agrippa sent his ships out in a giant arc. They engaged closely and started to fight with spears, swords and burning torches. Half way through the battle, Cleopatra’s barge started to leave. Mark Antony’s ship followed her. No doubt Cleopatra did not want to wish to risk her gold to the fortunes of war. Perhaps Antony felt he had to protect her. But the sight of the two leaders fleeing the scene was too much. The battle was lost. Many of the kings and generals who had supported Antony and Cleopatra now defected to the other side. Nothing could stop Octavian and Agrippa from conquering Egypt. The victory was a turning point in Octavian’s career. He later changed his name to Augustus, and became the first Roman emperor. Octavian arrived in Alexandria the following year. Mark Antony had little choice but to commit suicide – It was the Roman way. He fell on his sword. Cleopatra was taken prisoner. She did not wish to be made to walk the streets of Rome as a captive, like her sister Arsinoe. She tried to stab herself, but Octavian’s soldiers prevented her. A few days later she smuggled herself into her tomb with three loyal servants. Legend holds that she called for a bowl of figs with a venomous snake inside it. Perhaps she took poison, which would have been a more gentle death. What we do know is that Cleopatra killed herself. The last queen of Egypt was 39 years old when she died, and had been on the throne of Egypt for 21 years. For 11 of those years, Mark Antony had been at her side. She had kept Egypt prosperous and independent throughout her reign. It was probably inevitable that Rome would eventually conquer her country and bring it directly into its Empire. She had little choice but to befriend the greatest Romans of her day. She gambled, and in the end she lost. But the story of her life has fascinated people ever since. I very much hope that you have enjoyed this retelling of her tale. Bertie has asked me to say that there are many sources for her life from the Ancient World, including Strabo, Plutarch, Cassius Dio, and Josephus. Bertie’s account was partly inspired by a recent history book, Cleopatra, by Stacy Schiff, which you can find on Amazon. It gives you a great feel for the times in which Cleopatra lived. You can also find plenty of books about Cleopatra aimed at younger readers. We do hope that you have enjoyed our version, and that perhaps it has given you a taste for Ancient History. We will be doing more histories on Storynory.com. For now, from me, Natasha Bye Bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn26.txt b/text/sn26.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..57d1bd8ac6c403c61c40f9199ca174ad424ad923 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn26.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Bertie and Tim the Tadpole plan to fly back to their own pond in time for Christmas Day. Unfortunately, snow and fog is disrupting all the transport. They find themselves at a bus depot with a motley collection of creatures, including a penguin.', "Hello, this is Natasha, and I'm delighted to wish you a very happy Christmas for the sixth year of Storynory. A big thank you to all our listeners, especially those who have been with us since the very beginning. And now, I would like to hand you over to our host, Prince Bertie the Frog who has been polishing his stand up comedy act lately..", '[Play up Music - Jazzy Christmas Carol - and fade]', "Bertie' voice in slightly echo-y microphone... touch of feedback", '"Ladies and Gentlemen, Tadpoles and frogs, birds and fish.... Insects and creepy crawlies, it\'s an honour to be with you tonight of all nights, Christmas Eve, and I mean that most sincerely, folks. Here\'s a little story about a man who had 12 penguins in the back of his car. A policeman stopped him and said, " I say, I say I say, it\'s against the law to drive penguins around in the back of you car. You must take them to the zoo." And the man said, "I am sorry officer. I promise to take my penguins to the zoo right away." The next day, the same man took the 12 penguins for a drive again. This time he dressed them in dark sun glasses and swimming trunks. The policeman stopped him at the roundabout and said: "You can\'t fool me with that disguise. You promised yesterday to take those penguins to the zoo." And the man said: "Yes officer. I did take them to the zoo. That was yesterday. Today I\'m taking them to the beach". [Canned Laughter...... ]', "Natasha's Narrator voice....", "And that was a little taste of Bertie the Frog's sense of humour. As you may know, Bertie loves to tell jokes. His speciality is penguin jokes like that one. Opinions are divided about how funny they are. Some people, like Tim the Tadpole, think they are hilarious. Others, like Colin the Carp, think they are about as amusing as a toe caught in the door - or perhaps that should be a fin.", "One Christmas, Bertie was really thrilled to be invited to do his stand up comedy act in front of the entire pond. Only, it wasn't the usual pond where he lives. He was invited abroad - to the next door Kingdom - to perform in front of all the Posh Pondlife who lived in the palace pond over there. He and Tim the Tadpole sneaked on board an aeroplane inside the handbag of an out-of-work princess who was flying home for Christmas. When she arrived home at her palace, she was rather surprised to see a green frog hop out of her handbag. She didn't even notice that there was a tiny little tadpole hiding inside his armpit.", "Bertie made his way down to the water’s edge in time to do his act. All the pondlife at the next door Kingdom really loved his penguin jokes. His biggest fan of all was a happy Carp called Caroline who asked him to marry her -but he couldn't accept, because he was already engaged to the lovely Princess Beatrice.", 'Unfortunately, Bertie could not stay for the stage party, because he had to fly home to his own pond in time for Christmas. He and Tim hitched a lift to the airport on the back of a duck who flew them to Departure Terminal. They hid among the suitcases of the Christmas holiday makers, and anxiously watched the flight information screens. Most of the flights were marked "Delayed" in red letters. "Oh dear," said Bertie, "I think we are in for a bit of a wait." "Never mind," said Tim, "We can buy last minute Christmas presents. I\'ll get some duty free slime for Uncle Joe , and a box of chocolate covered dead flies for Colin." "I don\'t think that we can get those here," said Bertie, "You need a boarding pass to buy anything at the airport. " "Oh," said Tim. A little later, there was a rather disappointing announcement over the Tannoy. "We regret to inform you that all fights are cancelled due to exceptionally heavy snow and thick fog. Passengers are advised to continue their journey as best they can, by car, bus or foot. Royal United Airports would like to wish you a very happy Christmas." The passengers looked glum, and some prepared to spend Christmas night sleeping on the floor of the airport. Bertie said: "We don\'t have a car, or a bus pass, and it\'s too far to hop on foot." "I know!" declared Tim. And Bertie sighed, because he expected that his little friend was about to say something exceptionally stupid. But Tim surprised him with a really good idea: "Let\'s take the train." "Brilliant!" exclaimed Bertie. "I love trains. When I was a prince I used to drive one... but that\'s a story for another time." There was a station right at the airport, and Bertie and Tim managed to hop onto a train almost right away. They would have to change at Doncaster, but otherwise it was a straight-forward journey home. They settled in to the first class buffet, where they hid inside a cupboard, and started to munch on a mince pie and a fruit cake. "Oh dear! Will we miss Santa?" asked Tim, anxiously, as the train came to a halt about 15 minutes down the track. "Don\'t worry about that," said Bertie, "You\'ll be home just in time to open your presents." Backon the pond Sadie the Swan was singing a Christmas carol for all the pondlife:', "But her heart wasn't quite in the Christmas celebrations - The festive mood did not come easily when she was worried about absent friends.", '"Tish, Tish," she said, "Bertie and Tim should be back by now. Something must have happened...." "You\'re right," said Colin, "I expect the audience killed them for telling such terrible penguin jokes." "Oh Colin, don\'t be so horrid," said Sadie, who was now more upset than ever. "Well they probably just got delayed by the fog," suggested Colin. "They might be late for Christmas, but they will be back, unfortunately, I guarantee.." "But if Bertie\'s not here, who will be our Santa and hand out all the presents?" fretted Sadie. "Only Bertie knows where they are all hidden." "Well that\'s typical," grumped Colin, "Trust a frog to mess up everyone\'s Christmas." .... The frog in question was on the move again, only very slowly. The train heaved and hoed into a station before clanking to a halt. The guard walked through the corridor calling, "All Change, Everybody out - you can\'t sleep here. Sir, up you get.... Happy Christmas Ma\'m \'fraid this train\'s cancelled. Too much snow on the tracks...” “Can’t a train get through a bit of snow,” complained a very stressed-looking man. “No, no, sir,” said the guard. “It’s the wrong type of snow.” “That’s ridiculous!” “Regulations,” said the guard. “Nothing I can do about it. Now..... just step out the front of the station. The bus stop is on the right hand side." Bertie, with Tim in on his back, hopped off the train and onto the dark platform. The only light came from a flickering neon bulb in the waiting room. "Brr it\'s cold," said Tim, "And rather creepy." "Yes, we\'d better find that bus," agreed Bertie. "Where can we buy a ticket?" asked Tim. "You won\'t need a ticket little Tim," said Bertie. "You\'re under 12 weeks old. Kids go free. And tonight, so do frogs. The important thing is not to get trodden on." Just then, a little boy called out: "Oh look mummy, there\'s a frog. I\'m going to stamp on him." "Don\'t be so unkind," said his mother. "Frogs have a right to live too you know, especially at Christmas." Bertie wanted to add "Here here, well spoken," but he wasn\'t taking any chances and he hopped off as fast as he could. The driver wanted everyone to buy a bus ticket. The passengers, who had already paid for air and train tickets, were in no mood to pay again, and were arguing with him. "The airline should stump up for this bus", said a man with a moustache. "And give us compensation. They\'ve ruined our Christmas," added his wife. “You should have read the terms and conditions on the website,” said the driver. “No refunds for delays on account of the wrong type of snow.” This bickering gave Bertie and Tim the perfect chance to climb on board, unseen, and hide under a seat. The driver, who also wanted to get home for Christmas, finally relented and let everyone on the bus without paying. They drove down a dark road for about twenty minutes and came to a halt. "Right-oh, everyone off, this is the end of the line," said the driver. "What do you mean the end of the line? We\'ve got to get Doncaster." said the lady who had been complaining earlier on. "Doncaster?" laughed the driver. "That\'s miles away." "Well we shan\'t budge," said the lady. "Come one everybody let\'s stage a sit-in." There were cheers and grunts up and down the bus. "Fine by me," said the Driver. "I\'m off home for Christmas. You can sleep in the bus if you like." And he left. The passengers were furious, and started to shout at the driver, but he was already gone. Some people complained. Some people settled down for a Christmas night on the bus seats. Others climbed out to breath some air that was more than just a bit fresh, it was cold enough to chill a penguin. "Bertie," said Tim, "Where are we?" "I\'ve no idea," said Bertie. "Oh,” he sniffed, “We shall miss Christmas after all." "Not a bit of it," said Bertie. "You can\'t miss Christmas. It\'s everywhere. We\'ll have it here. Let\'s see what sort of a place this is." They found a hole in the floor of the bus, just by the brake pedal, jumped down, and landed softly in the snow. It was very dark. Large shadows loomed around them. "Are they monsters?" asked Tim timidly. "No they\'re buses," said Bertie. "I expect this is some sort of depot. Listen, I can hear a duck quacking. Perhaps there\'s a nice cosy pond hereabouts.', "And they moved off in the direction of the quack. But they didn't find a pond. Only a sort of left luggage office, with suitcases and, crates, and parcels that had not made it to their destinations in time for Christmas. They found their way in through a mousehole in the wall.", '"I\'m sure that quack came from in here," said Bertie. "QUACK!" "There it is a again!" "HONK!" "And I do believe that was a goose!" "Of course I\'m a goose," said a goosey sort of voice. And in the thin moonlight that came through the window, Bertie saw that there was a duck and a goose, both sitting in crates. "We\'re stuck here for Christmas," said the Duck, "That\'s a coincidence, because so are we," said Tim. "MUUUURRRR !" it\'s not at all nice," said a cat, who was abandoned inside a cat carrier, "People are so inconsiderate. They are sitting at home stuffing themselves with cooked birds - I beg your pardon - and here we are shivering at the station, living gifts that got lost in the post." "Well well," said Bertie, "What an odd collection of lost souls we are." "Speak for yourself," said an even more peculiar voice. "Who\'s that?" asked Bertie, "I can\'t see so well in the dark." "I\'m a penguin," said the voice,"On my way to the zoo, but abandoned here because of the ice and snow. I love ice and snow, but I can\'t get out of this wretched cage and enjoy it." "Ha Ha!" said Bertie, "This is really funny- peculiar. I know loads of penguin jokes, but I\'ve never met a real live penguin before. Do you know this one... What do penguins have for lunch?" "No I don\'t," said the Penguin. "Iceberg-ers!, HA ! HA!" exclaimed Bertie. "That\'s not funny," said the Penguin. "Hey what do you call a penguin in the desert?..... Lost ! HA HA." "Oh Bertie that\'s the funniest one yet," exclaimed Tim. And the duck, the goose and the cat started to chuckle, not so much at the joke, but because the penguin was getting really cross - and a cross penguin is quite a funny sight. Now, at the pond, Sadie was not able to sleep. She was getting her feathers in a fret about her friends. In fact, if the truth be told, even Colin was a little worried, though he would never have said so. "Oh Colin, They should have been back hours ago," she said sadly. "how would we ever know if something terrible had happened to them?" "Well expect we\'d hear eventually from one of those birds," said Colin, "They always have the news." And as it happened, a thirsty sparrow was nearby, pecking at the ice on the pond. "Hey Dicky Bird," said Colin, "What\'s the latest gossip?" "Oh haven\'t you heard?, it\'s all over Twitter," he replied. "I wouldn\'t know anything that’s all over Twitter," said Colin, "Because I\'m a fish... duhh." "Well," said the bird, "They’re tweeting about a frog who is telling hilarious penguin jokes to a collection of birds and animals. One of them\'s a penguin and he\'s getting really cross. They say it\'s really funny. I\'m just flying off there to see." "Oh how can we thank you enough!" said Sadie. "That must be Bertie!" "No it can\'t be," said Colin, "Bertie\'s jokes aren\'t funny. It must be some other frog if they are laughing.” But Sadie was already flapping her great black wings and asking the sparrow for directions. He pointed her in the direction of the remote bus depot, some miles away, and she went skidding over the ice and soared into the air. High up in the sky, she saw that there were indeed flocks of birds heading the same way - all wanting to join the audience for the hilarious Christmas show. When Sadie landed at the depot, quite a crowd was gathered on the roof and at the windows. "I say, I say I say.." Bertie was saying...."Why did the Penguin cross the road....? er, oh, I\'ve forgotten that one. UM.... it must be getting late." And he looked under his arm, and saw that little Tim was already asleep. "Well boys, birds, gulls, gals and everyone else.... you\'ve been a lovely audience, but I\'m afraid that\'s it for tonight. Happy Christmas!" And Sadie said: "Oh Bertie. You were wonderful. Happy Christmas." "By Jove, Sadie, I didn\'t know you were in the audience ! " "I just got here," said Sadie,"Your fame is travelling far and wide. Hop on my back. I\'ll fly you and Tim home for Christmas."', "And unlike most of the transport that Christmas night, Sadie's private flight did not break down, get cancelled by fog, or stop in some remote depot. Of course there was one other carrier that was flying that night - and that was pulled by reindeer... Bertie spotted the famous sleigh, and he called out:", '"Hey Santa. There are some lost animals abandoned in the bus depot down there. Perhaps you could go and cheer them up" "Yo Ho Ho!" replied Santa. "Presents on the way." And that was the story of Bertie, lost at Christmas. I do hope that you enjoyed. Don’t forget there are loads more stories on Storynory.com Bertie and all the pond life would like to wish you a very merry Christmas! (Jazzy God Rest You Merry Gentlemen licensed from Premium Beat) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn27.txt b/text/sn27.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..014a2044193480758318952831ffcaa6f9541803 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn27.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Just in case you are new to Bertie and his stories - let us explain - these days he is a frog and has some pond-life friends, but in the past he was a human prince.', "In this story, we hear about one of Bertie's human adventures. It took him to the jungle of Papua New Guinea along the famed Kokoda Trail. The Lovely Princess Beatrice came with him. They were in search of long lost Cousin Jonas who has discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth. The Wicked Queen wants it - but will she us it, as promised for the good of mankind?", 'And by the way, the secret or sweet potato is also known in America as a yam. Read by Natasha. Story by Bertie. Duration 31 min. “Oh Tim, When are you going to grow up?” It was Colin the Carp, groaning and grumping as usual. Perhaps this time, he had good reason. Tim the Tadpole was annoying him by tickling his belly. Sadie, the elegant black swan, heard his complaint too. She swam out of the rushes and said: “I don’t think Little Tim is ever going to grow up into a frog. In fact, I think he has discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth.” “Ooh that sounds exciting,” said Tim. “Er what is it?” As ever, Prince Bertie the Frog was on hand to answer Tim’s questions. “Let me tell you Tim,” he said. “It’s a potato.” When Prince Bertie said this, Colin the Carp thrashed the water with his tail so hard that some drops splashed on my face. “Is this pond full of fools?” groaned Colin. “How can the Secret of Eternal Youth be a Potato? That frog’s brain is a potato, more like...!” “Well actually,” said Bertie, “The Secret of Eternal Youth really is a potato. Or to be precise, it is a Sweet Potato. I know that for a fact because when I was a human prince, I brought it back from the Jungle....” “Oooh Bertie, do tell us the story...” pleaded Tim. Colin sighed heavily, but all the other pond life gathered around excitedly to hear Bertie’s story - and I pricked up my ears too....', "It was winter. The Palace cook was off work with a cold. At breakfast time, the Wicked Queen went into the kitchen and made Bertie's porridge herself.", '"There you are Bertie," she said, as she placed the steaming bowl of milky oats in front of him on the dining room table, " Just how you like it." " I don\'t really feel like porridge today," said the Prince. "I\'ve got a bit of a rotten tummy." For a second, an angry glint flashed across the Queen\'s eye, and then she said soothingly, "Come on now, eat up. There\'s nothing like a bowl of porridge to get you through the morning." "Sorry, I\'d rather not," said Bertie. He looked guiltily across the table at Princess Beatrice who was frowning at him. After breakfast, she tapped Bertie on the shoulder at the foot of the stairs. "There\'s no need to be so rude to my step-mother," she said frostily. "I can\'t help it," said Bertie. "Sometimes she just scares the life out of me." "Couldn\'t you see how hurt she was when you wouldn\'t eat her porridge? You seemed to think she had dropped poison in it." "Well... yeah......," said Bertie, quite sarcastically. "Oh sometimes ....you\'re just impossible," said Beatrice annoyed, and she started to stomp off, which was notat alllike her. Then she turned around and said: "Not every step-mother is wicked you know. And she\'s going to be your mother-in-law one day, so you better start seeing the sweet side of her."', "Bertie was upset, as well as hungry, as he climbed the stairs. The last thing he wanted to do was to get on the wrong side of Beatrice. She had such a lovely character, she just couldn't see that her step-mother, the Queen, truly was wicked. The world might well be full of lovely mother-in-laws, and charming step-mothers, but this one was well.. like something out of a scary fairytale.", 'For the rest of the week, the Wicked Queen, was so sweet, and so full of thoughtful little gestures, that Bertie became more suspicious of her than ever. On Saturday morning, she bought Beatrice a present - a delicate and beautiful orchid for her collection. It had snowy white flowers, with beautiful purple centres that looked just like butterflies. As they admired the lovely plant, the Queen said casually, "Or course, if you want to see rare orchids in the wild, you really ought to go to Papua New Guinea." "Really?" said Beatrice. "Perhaps Bertie and I can go there on holiday." "Oh you would love it," said the Queen, "The biodiversity is incredible." Bertie tried not to groan. He knew that "biodiversity" - which means a wide selection of life forms - was just the word to use if you wanted to persuade Beatrice of anything. She truly loves the environment and all living things. "Oh Bertie ! Do let\'s go there for our holiday," she cooed. "I do so want to go to Papua New Guinea to see the Biodiversity." "And while you are there," said the Queen, "You can look up our long lost cousin Jonas. He lives in the Rain Forest and is an expert on the nature of New Guinea." "Oh how wonderful," said Beatrice. Bertie sighed. He knew that the wicked Queen was plotting something - but there was nothing he could do to prevent it.', "But what was the Queen up to? Was she planning for them to be kidnapped by pirates or eaten by cannibals? He didn't dare suggest anything of the sort to Beatrice. She would be furious with him. He would have to wait for clues. And gradually the clues came. The nearer they got to the holiday, the more the Queen spoke about Cousin Jonas. There was an article about him on the internet with a photograph. He stood on a cliff with with the tree tops of the jungle spreading out for miles behind him. He looked about 25 years old - not a day older than when he left the palace 25 years ago.", '"I do believe," revealed the Queen, "that Cousin Jonas has discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth. Just think Beatrice darling... what a benefit this could be to humanity ! We could make medicines that could cure every illness. Bring back the secret to me, my sweet, or else it may never get out. Greedy Cousin Jonas is just keeping it to himself. That can\'t be right. Go to him, Beatrice, with your sweet smile, and persuade him to do the right thing." Bertie tried to seem keen on the Wicked Queen’s plan to benefit mankind, but it was no use - Beatrice knew that he was thinking negative thoughts. Her manner was a little colder than usual to her prince. They flew first to Australia, and then to Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea. At the airport, they were met by their tour guide, an Australian called Roger Jolly. "Mates call me Jolly Roger," he said with a grin as he firmly shook their hands.', "He showed them the way to the car - which was, as it turned out, a pick-up truck. Princess Beatrice sat in the cab next to Jolly Roger. Prince Bertie sat on the back of the truck with the luggage. He was kept company buy Roger's righthand-man, a Papua New Guinean called Simon, and known to his mates as Sly Si.", 'As they drove through the town, Bertie saw that most of the houses were defended by barbed wire and metal gates. "Don\'t go for a walk in Port Moresby," warned Sly Si. "There are plenty of murders." And Bertie decided that he could manage without stretching his legs that evening. They drove to the gleaming white Yacht Club, which was where all the rich people and foreigners liked to hang out. That evening they ate grilled fish out in the warm tropical air. Beatrice told him that they wanted to find Cousin Jonas in the village of Tanga. Jolly Roger looked at Sly Si. Si said: "That\'s in the Owen Stanley Mountains, about four or five days hike along the Kokoda Trail." "Great, I love walking," said Beatrice. "That\'s good," said Jolly Roger, with a smile,"Because the Kokoda Trail is just about the toughest walk in the world."', "Two days later, they drove out to the Owen's Corner, which is at the start of the famed Kokoda trail. Five porters joined Bertie in the back of the truck, each with a huge rucksack.", 'They drove as far as they could, before the road just petered out. Before them rose the mountains, covered in dense jungle. The only sign of human life was a bronze monument. "That\'s to the heroes of the Second World War," explained Roger. "The Australians fought the Japanese through these mountains and beat them off - otherwise Australia might have been invaded." Then turning to Sly Si he said, "And the locals played a big part too. The worked as porters. They carried the injured on stretchers, and tended to their wounds. The troops called them Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels, because they never abandoned an injured solider, even under heavy fire. " After a minute or two of silence, to acknowledge the heroes of the past, they heaved their packs onto their backs and began to plod down the same trail that the troops and the angels had taken in 1942. At first they went down, but soon they were climbing. The rain started to pitter-patter on the broad leaves above their heads. Some of it managed to dribble down the backs of their collars. The porters cut long walking sticks for them for Beatrice and Bertie. Still it was hard to get a good foothold. Beatrice was the first to slide face down in the mud. "Bertie, where were you looking? Why didn\'t you catch me?" she said testily as he helped her up. Bertie ignored the unfair remark, and said. "Don\'t worry dearest. It can\'t be like this all the way." "Oh yes it can," said Jolly Roger with a grin.', "Often the jungle track divided - one path going one way - the other in a different direction. Fortunately, the porters knew the trail just as certainly as Beatrice knew her way around the palace gardens. Quite often the trail disappeared all together. The porters took out their machetes and scythed a path through the undergrowth, with as little effort as if they were spreading butter on bread. The great packs did not seem to give them any trouble at all. And most remarkable of all - some of them weren't even wearing boots on their feet - but flip-flops, as if they were strolling down to the beach.", 'It was still raining that night when they struck camp. The porters cut big logs to get a fire going, and Bertie and Beatrice washed in an icy cold mountain stream. Bertie did his best to help put up the tents, but most of the work was done by the porters. They brewed up the best drink of tea ever. And then they ate a supper of Vegetable Stew - made from a packet - and Sweet Potato Mash. One of the porters was carrying a ruck sack that was filled with nothing but sweet potatoes. Sweet Potatoes were to be the main diet along the trail. And at long last, they stretched out in their lovely dry sleeping blankets and fell asleep to the mysterious whoops and cries of the jungle birds and animals. Over the next few days they crossed gushing rivers with the help of ropes, and struggled up and down steep slopes. The rain stopped, and often the sun brightened things up. Sometimes they waded through long wet grass, and slug-like leaches fastened themselves to their legs. "They like sucking Bertie\'s blue blood," said Jolly Roger, who usually had a joke to hand. "They have good taste," said Beatrice, "UGGH There\'s one on me.... Get it off me Bertie..." "I thought you liked all living things," said Bertie as he sprayed it with insect repellent. "I do," she said, "It\'s not their fault they like our blood." Roger made sure that they treated any little cuts and grazes with stinging iodine, because he said wounds could go rotten in the damp jungle air. Sly Si always came up at the back of the line, to make sure that nobody got left behind. They were in good hands - but if anyone twisted an ankle, there was only one way out of the jungle - on a stretcher carried by the porters. They stopped often to drink water, and for Beatrice to photograph wild orchids. She wasn\'t disappointed - there were many that she had not seen before, even in books. One time Sly Si pointed and said "Look over there," and he started to walk towards a huge snake that was draped over some branches. He took it in his arms and wrapped it around himself. Then suddenly he made a choking nose and rolled his eyes: "Oh no, it\'s a python and it can squeeze the life out of him," squealed Beatrice in horror. But it was just an empty skin that a python had shed. "Nice one," laughed Jolly Roger, as Sly Si draped the skin back on the tree, to scare the next group of hikers.', "On the fourth day, they reached Jonas's village. It was on a high plateau, overlooking the tops of the trees for miles and miles. The village huts stood on stilts, growing out of a green lawn that was almost as perfect as a cricket pitch. The hikers were greeted by a group of local kids who wanted to know the latest rugby scores. Bertie made up for their lack of sports results, by handing out pens and badges.", '"Can you take us to Jonas?" asked Beatrice hopefully. But they did not have to - because a youthful looking man was walking towards them. "He can\'t be fifty years old. He must be Jonas’s son," whispered Bertie. But Beatrice was ready to believe that this relative of hers had discovered the Secret of Eternal Youth. "Er, Prince Jonas, I presume," said Bertie. "It\'s quite a while since anybody has called me Prince," replied the youth, "But I am Jonas." "Well I\'m Prince Bertie and this is your relative, Princess Beatrice. You may not know her, because she was born after you left the palace." "Yes, that was a long time ago," said Jonas. "Well I haven\'t heard from my family for a long time. Welcome to my home. Have some tea and, we\'ll get dinner ready for you. Hope you like sweet potatoes. It\'s all we have around here." "We can provide tinned sardines," said Bertie. "Oh wonderful," enthused Jonas. "And chocolate.." added Bertie. "You must come more often," said Jonas. As they sat around the fire that evening, a sky crammed with stars looked down upon them. They were about as far away from anywhere as you could possibly get. All around the clearing was steep jungle - and it was at least three days hike until you got to anything like a road. The word "remote" hardly summed it up. While they tucked in to their feast of sweet potatoes, sardines and chocolate, the villagers sung and banged drums for them. When the din died down, Beatrice said: "Cousin Jonas, I hope you don\'t mind me asking, but how old are you?" "I will probably seem ancient to a youngster like you," admitted Jonas, “It was my fiftieth birthday last month." "Wow," said Bertie . "Pretty old aren\'t I?" said Jonas. "But you can\'t be that old," said Beatrice. "You hardly look older than Bertie." "Hmm. Well, you can\'t beat a diet of fresh air, mountain water, and sweet potatoes," explained Jonas. "Oh come on, you must have a bigger secret than that," said Beatrice, "Do tell..." "Worried about getting lines are you? I shouldn\'t be concerned at your age. Well perhaps I will tell," said Jonas. "We\'ll see in the morning. " After Beatrice had gone to bed, Bertie and Jonas stayed up for one last square of chocolate each. "Do you ever miss your life of comfort and ease in the palace?" asked Bertie. "Sometimes," said Jonas. "But I had no choice. I had to leave." \'Why?" asked Bertie. "In a word, Hilda." "Ah Hilda," said Bertie. "I understand. In fact, one day I might have to leave because of Hilda." Because... you see ... Hilda was the person who is now better known as the Wicked Queen.', "Later on, as Bertie lay awake in his sleeping bag, he wondered about his moral dilemma. Loyalty to Beatrice dictated that he should help her on her mission to take Jonas's secret back to the Queen. But his instinct that the Queen had no good intentions, meant that he ought to warn Cousin Jonas. Even though his limbs were weak from the day's jungle hike, the problem kept turning around his head and preventing him from falling asleep.", 'And Jonas was clearly weakening and saying things like, "Well I suppose it has been a bit selfish of me to keep it to myself. I just didn\'t want it fall into the wrong sort of hands." "Oh I promise will do the best thing possible for your secret. We\'ll give it to my step-mother who is ever such a clever woman, isn\'t she Bertie? " said Beatrice. And Bertie had no choice but to nod. He felt a real heel, knowing that Beatrice was going to give it to Hilda, because she really believed that her step-mother would use it for the good of mankind. At last Jonas gave in. "Well I\'ll tell you," he said. "I\'ve developed a special breed of Sweet Potato. I make it into a kind of paste and rub it into my skin. Everyone who has tried it - including many of the villagers here - seems to stay young. I can\'t say if lasts eternally - it\'s too early to say yet - and I suppose it always will be - ha ha." "Oh thank you," said Beatrice throwing her arms around him. "Will you let us take some back home with us?" "I\'ll get some ready for you," said Jonas. "Enough to put under a microscope - and some left over for your personal use." "Oh I don\'t want to use it myself," insisted Beatrice. Bertie felt he could hold in his conscience no more. Later, when Beatrice was hunting for orchids on the other side of this village, he said to Jonas. "Look please don\'t let on that I told you this. Beatrice is such a sweet girl. She just can\'t see any bad in her stepmother...who is somebody you know.." "Who exactly...?" asked Jonas, suspiciously. "Hilda," said Bertie. "I fear that your secret might not be put to the best use. But what am I to do? If Beatrice catches on that I\'ve told you this, I will be right in the do-do." "Well we don\'t want you dumped in the do-do, do we?" said Jonas. "I have an idea. I\'ll give one preparation to you - secretly - and I\'ll give another one for Beatrice to give to her step-mother. It will be a nice little present from me to Hilda." The next day, their trekking expedition restarted along the Kokoda trail. At first, their stiff limbs protested at being made to work again, but they soon got into the swing of things. Some fine weather saw them through the day. They climbed even higher into the Owen Stanley Mountains, where the air became thinner, and strange trees and shrubs fascinated the botanist in Beatrice. After that, the way was mostly down. On the final day, they waded through some long bush grass, and out into the welcome end-of-trail station to be greeted by the universal symbol of civilisation - Coca- Cola. After a few blissful days on the beach at Buna, they flew back to Port Moresby, on to Sydney, and then back home. Beatrice carried a jar of the Secret Sweet Potato Cream in her hand luggage. Bertie carried an even more secret formula inside his suitcase. "You little darling!" exclaimed the Wicked Queen as Beatrice handed over the jar from Uncle Jonas. "We’re RICHHHHHHH!" \'What do you mean, rich?" asked Beatrice. "Oh don\'t you see? People will pay a fortune for an anti-wrinkle cream that actually works. And as for a hair restorer, even the King would give his crown for one of those, if it did what it said on the tin. It\'s what human kind has been striving for all these centuries.... The Cure for Baldness.... The Removal of Wrinkles.....The End of Cellulite... The Eat What You Want and be as Thin as a School Girl Diet..... in short, The Secret of Eternal Youth...." In her delight, t he Queen was looking younger already - she did a little dance of glee. And Beatrice was so upset that she turned to Bertie, her eyes full of tears, and said. "Don\'t you dare say a word... " before she ran up to her room. "I don\'t think that\'s quite what Beatrice thought you meant by the good of mankind," he said to the Queen, before leaving the room. Out in the corridor he smiled to himself, because he had already sent the even more secret formula to a top scientist who was working on all sorts of cures for various illnesses. "Foolish children!" said the queen to herself, as she swept upstairs to her dressing room. "Now let\'s just try out a little of this on ourself." She stood before the mirror and rubbed some of the sweet potato cream into her face. Almost instantly, the deep troughs around her eyes disappeared. She looked twenty years young. "I\'m beeeee-autiful, " she exclaimed. .', "But when she woke up in the morning, she opened her mouth and all she could say was 'WAAAAA' because Uncle Jonas and supplied an extra strong formula, and she had turned back into a baby. Bertie called the Palace Nanny and told her to keep the development a secret. The Wicked Queen grew back into her former self within a week, though, as Bertie noted, her face was perhaps just a bit older and a bit more evil looking than before. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn28.txt b/text/sn28.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..50c4b4101dde433fd310adb95226ee6f120d689e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn28.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Storynory listeners know that the Wicked Queen turned Bertie into a frog. But the secret is not yet out in the Big Wide World. There's a rumour that the Queen has recorded her confessions on a cassette tape. The tape has gone missing. The race is on to find it. Bertie MUST get hold of it first. ", 'A slightly silly Bertie adventure read by Natasha... ... and written by Bertie. Bertie and the Queen’s Confession. Hello, this is Natasha And I’m here with the latest news from the pond where Prince Bertie the frog lives. As you may know, Bertie is a very patient frog. He has been waiting simply ages for the Lovely Princess Beatrice to twig who he really is. Yes Beatrice, Your Royal Highness, that cool and trendy frog who lives on the Palace Pond is your long lost prince ! I tried to tell her once, but she thought that I was a loony who had climbed over the palace wall. She called the guards and had me thrown out! If only she listened to Storynory ! Well, you listen to Storynory, so you know the secret about Bertie. But some people are a bit slow, I mean, you would think that the BBC or the newspapers would have got hold of the story by now ! Tim the Tadpole thinks that Bertie’s life would make a great Hollywood Movie.... and when that happens, I want a part in it. Perhaps I’ll be Sadie the Swan - what do you think? Only last week, a news reporter came in secret to speak to Beatrice. They took a walk past the palace pond, where nobody would hear them. Nobody, except for a royal frog, a grumpy carp, a haughty swan, 20 geese, 40 ducklings, and two thousand tadpoles ! Oh, and I heard them too, because I was reading a book under a tree. They didn’t even see me, because they were talking so intently. Beatrice was saying, “I really really shouldn’t tell you anything. I could get into SO much trouble with the press officer at the palace.” And the journalist replied, “But your Royal Highness, our newspaper will help you find Prince Bertie. My reporter’s nose tells me I’m really onto something.” “What exactly have you found out about Bertie?” asked Beatrice, hesitantly. She looked white and worried. “Do you know... do you know if he’s alive?” Her big blue eyes fluttered, and even the reporter was touched. The pond was unusually quiet. Not a single duckling peeped. All the creatures were listening intently - not least Bertie himself. “I’m afraid I don’t know if Prince Bertie is alive, your loveliness, I mean your highness, but I’ve heard rumours.... I mean to say... have you heard anything?” “No,” she said. “Not a dicky bird. Please tell me, what is it that you’ve heard? I must know the truth.” “It’s just a rumour,” said the reporter, “But people say that the Wicked, I mean, Her Majesty the Queen, has lost something important. Well placed people inside the palace tell me that she’s in a frightful fluster. Is that so?” “Oh yes,” said Beatrice, “My stepmother has been acting very strangely this past two weeks. She sacked her maid. She even accused me of sneaking into her room and stealing her... her something - but I didn’t even know what she was talking about.” “Was it a cassette by any chance?” “Yes that was it. What’s a cassette? I’ve really no idea.” “A cassette is something we used back in the olden days. It’s a tape. You can record sounds on it, like music, or voices. Before people had iPhones, and Androids, and iPods, we used cassette players - Walkmans we called them ... ” “Oh,” said Beatrice, “The Queen is a bit stuck in her ways.. I suppose she might use an old thing like that. But why is it so important? I don’t think she listens to music.” “Well the rumor goes that she recorded her confessions on it. That’s why she’s so worried.” At this point, I heard a little squeaky voice from the pond say, “Bertie, What’s a confession?” And several fish told him to ‘SHHHHHHH!’. But Bertie whispered back, “It’s very interesting Tim. A confession would be when she says all the bad things she’s done...” Even little Tim understood that the Wicked Queen’s Confession would make a gripping tale. But Beatrice - well she likes to think the best of everyone, even of her stepmother. She looked all blue-eyed and innocent and asked: ““But what has my Stepmother got to confess?” The reporter sighed. “Well,” he said, “the truth about what happened to Bertie...” At that point, they walked out of earshot, but Bertie was hopping up and down with excitement. “The Cassette, the cassette, we’ve got to get hold of the Cassette ! Then everyone will know the truth. Natasha can podcast it to the world ! The Wicked Queen will be condemned out of her own mouth!” And all the pond-life were again a flutter, and flapping and quacking as excitedly as if the palace baker had just thrown a basket of stale buns into the water. Bertie called a meeting, and everyone agreed to help him The sparrows and thrushes and all the birds on Twitter were straight on the case. They kept their beady eyes on the look out for a little box with tape inside it. The garden magpie swore that he hadn’t stolen it. And the Palace mice promised to check out every nook-hole. But a week went past, and there was no news of the tape. “Oh well,” sighed Bertie, “I expected it got recycled. It’s probably been made into a plastic drinks bottle by now.” But on Saturday night, there was a dramatic development. When it was getting dark, the Wicked Queen herself came down to the pond, which was highly unusual, and rather scary. Bertie hid under a stone in case she planned to do something even worse to him. But Sadie the Swan could see that she was worried, by the way she was ringing her hands and pacing up and down. Then a man’s heavy footsteps crunched down the path to the pond. Bertie peaked out of the water and said : “I know him, that’s Fred the Footman.” “Well,” said the Queen, when Fred arrived, “This had better be good, or I’ll turn you into a toad!” “Oh, it is good,” chuckled Fred, “It’s the story of your life. Every night, for the past two weeks, I’ve listened to a chapter at bedtime, and what a tale ! Fascinating, your majesty. One of the best crime stories ever !” “You filthy son of a flea !” screeched the Queen. “Give me back my cassette!” “Tish tish, I think I deserve a handsome reward for finding a thing like that, don’t you?’ “Reward! You stole it !” “The newspapers will pay a high price ....” “All right, all right, one bar of gold..” “Ten bars of gold, sent to my Swiss Bank...:” “GRRRRR!” The Queen was still gnashing her teeth when Bertie started to hop as fast as he could across the palace garden. You see, he had known Fred all his life. When he was a boy, Fred showed him his secret hideaway. Bertie was sure that was where he would store the cassette..... Fred always wanted to be a famous singer-songwriter. He had a little shed in the woods, where he used to strum his guitar, sing his songs, and record himself. He had loads of vintage recording equipment because he swore that it sounded better than the modern stuff. He had a big quarter inch tape player called a Revox, and he had... ... a compact-cassette player ! Sadie the Swan saw Bertie and she took off from the pond with her black wings going whoosh whoosh whoosh! She flew through the moonlit night to the woods where she waited for Bertie. “Got... to.. get... to Fred’s hut,” panted Bertie. Sadie had never seen him look so determined. Bertie knew that this was his best chance yet to reveal the truth to the world - the truth about how the Wicked Queen Turned him into a frog... .he could hear the church bells ringing... he could hear the crowds shout “Long Live Bertie and Beatrice!” he could feel her warm kiss.... he could taste - yes Chocolate Cake.... their wedding cake would be 100% pure organic fair trade chocolate (Beatrice would insist on the organic fair trade bit). Bertie hopped on through the tangled undergrowth of the woods, trying to avoid the stinging nettles. Sadie waddled along side him. They reached Fred’s hut. “Locked!” sighed Sadie, as she looked up at the chain and the padlock on the door. “Of course,” said Bertie, “But there’s a loose plank around the back. Or there used to be. Fred’s cat used to slink in through it.” Thankfully, some things never change. The cat flap was still open, and there was plenty of room for a frog to slip inside. Sadie stayed outside and looked out for trouble. All was still. She saw nothing. Then suddenly she heard a voice: “Hello, This is Queen Hilda, and I’m dropping by with the thrilling story of my life.” Sadie hissed and flapped her wings... she was ready for a fight to the death.... but there was no sound of a struggle from within the hut... the voice rambled on... “My tale will reveal all: the true story all my wonderfully wicked deeds. Here’s a few little tasters: When I was a baby I made a burp so big it blew down a house. When I was five years old, I made Santa fall asleep and miss Christmas Day. At school, I made it rain every sports day for ten years in a row. Later on, I put a spell on that that old fool, my husband, so that he would marry me. And you’ve heard the rumours - yes it’s true, I confess it freely ! I turned that nincompoop Prince Bertie into a frog. You would have done the same too if he wanted to marry your stepdaughter ! But I rush ahead of myself. We’ll save the best for last. By now, Sadie realised that Bertie had found the cassette tape of the queen’s confessions and was playing it.... but they didn’t have all night - Sadie stuck her beak through the loose plank and hissed: “Come on Bertie. We can’t wait for Fred to turn up...Bring the cassette and we’ll hide it well...” Bertie jumped onto a button of the player, and ejected the cassette. He came out of the hut out with it in his mouth. They headed back for the pond as fast as they could hop and waddle. But when they emerged from the woods, they saw a pair of emerald green eyes glowing across the lawn: “Is that Fred’s cat?” asked Sadie. “No,” said Bertie. “I would know those eyes anywhere. They belong to the Wicked Queen.” It was too late. The Queen is a witch, and she has perfect night vision. She spotted them right away, and she screeched: “Bertie ! Halt Right There!” “Quick, give me the tape!” hissed Sadie, and she pecked it from Bertie’s mouth with her beak. “Hey what are you doing!” said Bertie as Sadie started to run and flap her swooshing wings. A few seconds later her feat were off the ground and she was starting to climb upwards towards the moon with the tape still firmly in her beak. But the Wicked Queen was not about to see her life memoirs get away like that. She turned herself into an eagle and started to fly after her. All Bertie could do was watch helplessly. He looked up at the moon and saw the dark silhouettes of a swan and an eagle in a furious battle. Sadie zig-zagged to escape the eagle. The eagle snapped furiously at her tale fathers. Soon she had grabbed hold of the swan with her talons. Sadie turned round her powerful neck and stabbed with her beak at the eagle... there were terrible screeches - from the eagle, or the swan, or both.. .Bertie could not tell. But oh, Sadie let go of the cassette, and down it fell.....it was broken and the silvery tape glistened in the moonlight as it tumbled and tangled.... down down down until with a plop, the box fell into the pond, and the tape floated in a knot on the water. The Eagle dived down after it, but but when she reached the surface of the pond, a furious carp left out and slapped her around the face with his tale... not even an eagle...not even the Wicked Queen in the form of an Eagle - would tangle with Colin the Carp when he was in a fury. In any case, the tape was wet, tangled, and ruined. She flapped off back to her palace. And so nobody, except for Fred and the the Wicked Queen, knows exactly what the rest of the tape revealed. Nobody was quite sure why the Queen recorded her Confession - perhaps she had done a deal to sell her memoirs for millions - But some of the tangled tape has made its way into the duck nests on the pond - and the tadpoles play tug of war and loop the loop with the rest of it. The cassette box has sunk to the bottom, where it lies under a stone, empty and forgotten. And that was the story of Bertie and the Queen’s Confession. Ooohhh What a truly Wicked Queen she is ! Poor Bertie. I’m not so sure I’m sorry for Beatrice though, after she had me thrown out of the palace. Anyway, it’s good to have Bertie round for the time being, because he has so many stories, and you can always drop by to hear them, at Storynory.com. For now, from me, Natasha Bye bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn29.txt b/text/sn29.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..3e364b47942f2529f6fca08ebbd1c9d725db7de3 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn29.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +But poor Bertie isn’t really feeling himself. His “lost” mood leads him to ponder about his own True Mother – who was the Queen before the wicked one. He learns that she is remembered for her magic pancake recipe which she used to put into action every Shrove Tuesday. We hope you will find this story funny, and perhaps even a little touching. Bertie’s Magic Pancakes - Hello, this is Natasha and I am here with the latest story from the palace where Prince Bertie lives. Well, I do hope you all caught the Royal news around Christmas – because it wasn’t just big, it was massive. Just in case you were away on Mars, or you decided to meditate for the whole of the festive season, I’d better tell you : Bertie Turned Back into a Prince! Metamorphosis. Which is all about turning into something completely different. Can you imagine what it feels like to be a happy caterpillar one day and a fluttery butterfly the next? Or a silly tadpole who wakes up as a frog? Or a lava who grows up to be a fly? Metamorphosis sounds like it might be fun, but Bertie can tell you from first hand experience that it isn’t at all. He says that being turned into a frog was the most traumatic thing that ever happened to him. And the second most scary thing, was metamorphosing back into a prince. Yes, I thought you might be surprised to hear that. It wasn’t just that his voice was still croaky and he felt like crouching down and then hopping up again. Something pretty strange was going on inside him. Once he was human again he had – and this is another big term: An Identity Crisis. Which is even worse than a crisis like when you forget to do your homework. It meant that he couldn’t sort of, well, find himself. He wandered through the corridors of the palace thinking: “Who am I? I used to be Young Prince Bertie, everyone loved me, except the wicked queen of course, then I was a frog, and now I’m – well I just don’t feel like I’m me anymore.” The Lovely Princess Beatrice was upset because he couldn’t explain how he felt to her. She wondered if they had grown apart all those years while he was amphibious – which means, by the way, being almost as happy staying under water as you are when you are up on land and breathing air. The palace didn’t feel quite like his proper home anymore. One thing that he really didn’t like was the picture of the Wicked Queen that still hung in the breakfast room. He asked the King to take it down. The king reproved Bertie quite sternly: “She might have become a frog, but she’s still my wife. I would have thought that you, of all people Bertie, would appreciate that.” Bertie saw that his father had been badly affected by the dramatic events over Christmas. It was all a bit strange seeing his wife drink her own magic poison by mistake and turn into frog. And as for Beatrice, she kept gazing at Bertie with her lovely eyes, trying to see the prince she once knew and loved so dearly. While he was in this lost state of mind, Bertie found that he thinking a great deal about his own true mother. She had been the King’s first wife, and had died when he was quite young. Bertie had spent a lot of time with the Royal Nanny and didn’t see as much of his mummy as most people do. But he remembered that she was very kind and that when she went shopping, she always rode in a gold carriage pulled by six white horses. She used to wave a gloved hand out of the window, and sometimes some nice pedestrians would wave back at her, which always made her happy. As he was thinking about her so much, he went up into the attic of the palace and found his mother’s portrait. He lifted off the white sheet that was covering it, and there she was : a few years younger than when he had known her, and very beautiful. She had the same nose and eyes as Bertie. He suddenly felt full of tender love for her. “Mother,” he said to himself, “You were good and dutiful. You weren’t the sort of queen who dabbled in dangerous magic. You were old fashioned and principled.” Bertie opened it eagerly, expecting to find a birthday present from years ago – perhaps a plastic robot that transformed into a car. But instead he found an old VHS tape – a video from the days before films that you can download – from even before the era of DVDs. It was probably a movie. Maybe it was the one about the pirates that he recalled liking. He put it back in the box. He took his findings downstairs. He dusted off the picture, and hung it in his room so that his mother’s face was the first thing he saw in the morning. She helped him to remember who he really was. He thought to himself : “If mother was alive, how would she want me to use my power now that I am a grown up Prince? ” And then, he thought, “I know, she would want me to pass a law against Magic. That’s what’s been so rotten in this kingdom. The Wicked Queen set the worst possible example by making evil magic spells.” Suddenly he was full of purpose. He sprung up and strode over to see the King in his office. He found him sitting at his desk cruising the internet. “Father,” he said: “A lot of unsavoury things have happened around this Kingdom. People have been turned into frogs, swords have been dipped in magic potion, a wicked witch has been stirring up no end of trouble in her cauldron. Enough is a enough. We must pass a law against magic.” The king’s mood was still apathetic – which means he couldn’t be bothered about anything much – and he said, “Yes, yes, do whatever you think is for the best Bertie.” “Great, thanks Papa.” In fact, Bertie thought that banning magic was simply the best idea he had ever had. He rang the bell for the Prime Minister, who came running round to the King’s office right away. Bertie told him: “I command you, by the power invested in me by the King, who doesn’t really care what I do these days, to make a law banning magic.” The Prime Minister hated the Wicked Queen and all her witchery and he considered that Bertie’s idea was spot on. He ordered Parliament to meet up the following day and vote for the law. And to make sure that nobody was sneakily doing any spells on the side, he bought 100 black coloured vans that were equipped with special radar for detecting magic. Now you may be wondering if Bertie had forgotten his old friends down on the pond. Of course how could he forget a carp as grumpy as Colin, or a swan as regal as Sadie, or a tadpole as silly as Tim? But somehow he didn’t want to see them for the time-being. He needed to feel happy in his human self first. Nor did the pond-life forget Bertie. In fact, Colin the Carp was swimming around, curling his lips, goggling his eyes, and telling anyone who would listen: “I never thought I would say these words, but can we bring back Bertie please?” You see, now that that Prince Boris and the Wicked Queen had accidentally turned themselves into frogs, they had no choice but to live on the pond. It was either that or the bathroom – and who would want to live in a bath when the weather is nice outside? Boris was sulking, but the Wicked Queen was doing her best to straighten things out around the pond. The first thing she did was to cast a spell to clean up all the green slime, and that really annoyed the pond-life who liked eating it. Then she put Sadie’s beak out of joint by telling her to curtsy when she swam near her. And she told the tadpoles they must spend less time chasing their tails, and more time doing their homework. Meanwhile, she herself had to learn to catch flies with her tongue, and when Colin laughed at failed attempts, she threatened to turn him into a person, which was the last thing he wanted. Everyone was afraid of her, because they weren’t quite sure how much of her magic power she could still use as a frog. In short, Bertie and his stories, and even his bad jokes, were well missed. “Of course, ” added Colin, “Now he’s swanning around as Prince, eating chocolate cake, staying in luxury palaces, and gazing into the eyes of his lovely princess Beatrice, why should he give a thought to us? We’re beneath him, that’s the problem. In a word, we’re pond-life.” In fact, Bertie had forgotten that his favourite food was chocolate cake. Now he actually enjoyed eating spinach because it reminded him of slime. He liked raisins too, because they looked like flies, only they tasted sweeter. “Oh Bertie,” said Princess Beatrice as they ate lunch together, “how you’ve changed!” “For the better I hope,” said Bertie picking spinach from between his teeth, while Beatrice cast her eyes down at the table. “It used to be a tradition,” explained the cook. “Your mother used to come into the kitchen and cook pancakes for everyone in the palace. We in the kitchen thought it would be lovely if you could take it up again, sir.” Bertie glanced at Beatrice, hoping that she would offer to help, but she just smiled, because she wanted to see Bertie trying to toss a pancake in the frying pan. “Did she?” asked Bertie, who only remembered her as being sweet but quite serious. “Oh yes sir, she was a hoot. We all say you take after her sir.” Bertie was genuinely surprised by this information. Beatrice, who was not quite so surprised, asked a more pertinent question. “That’s fascinating,” she said. “And how did she make the pancakes fly around the palace?” “I believe she used magic, your highness,” said the cook. Beatrice raised an eyebrow, because she knew that Bertie hated magic. In her mind she counted to the three and right on cue, Bertie exploded. “Don’t talk such nonsense. You’re making it all up. Don’t I know my own mother’s character? She hated magic, and she never did anything silly in her whole life. She was a sensible queen. And I think this whole pancake malarky is something you made up to mock me. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re in the pay of the Wicked Queen.” And he strutted out of the kitchen. The poor cook was trembling, but Beatrice said soothingly, “Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite. He’s just a bit uptight at the moment. I expect he will apologise later and bring you flowers. If he doesn’t, I’ll give him what for.” The princess gave Bertie half and hour to calm down before going to find him in his room. She discovered him strumming his guitar, which he always found soothing. Beatrice stroked his hair and told him that he had been a bit silly and had really shocked the cook. “I know,” said Bertie, “I’d better pick some flowers for her. But do you really think that what she said about my mother was true?” “I don’t think she would lie,” said Beatrice, “And I expect your mum was always sensible around you to set a good example.” She got up to look at the portrait of the Queen. “She certainly looks like you.” Then she noticed the box with the message for his eighth birthday on it. “What’s this?” she asked. “Just some old video,” said Bertie. “I can’t play it.” “Well I can,” replied Beatrice, “I’ve got a VCR player to re-watch my favourite TV programmes from years ago. Let’s go to my room and see what’s on it.” And so they did. Beatrice slotted the tape into the clunky old video player and pressed play. They wanted to see if Bertie had watched the same programmes as she had when he was eight, but it wasn’t all all what they expected – because the television screen filled up with the image of Bertie’s mother. “Surprise surprise!” said the queen in a sparkly fun-loving voice. “And a very happy Birthday to my darling Bertie. Now you are eight I wanted to show you something a bit special. I thought you might like to learn a few magic spells that are fun and easy to do.” “I’m completely sure I have never seen this video,” said Bertie quite puzzled. And then he remembered. His mother had died before his eighth birthday. That was why he had never received the present that she had made specially for him. He wiped a tear away from his eye, and Beatrice said: “There there.” And Bertie said: “Well we had better go and see then.” The inspector had a hand-held magic detector that looked a bit like a radar gun that they use for speed traps on the roads. He pointed it at the pond, and as they walked down the garden path, it started to bleep frantically. “It appears to be something in the water,” he said when they were standing right on the edge of the pond. “Well I suggest that you arrest that frog,” said Bertie. He had spotted a rather evil looking amphibian sitting on a lily leaf. “It’s hard to say if that’s the culprit,” said the inspector. “We should probably take all the pond-life in for questioning.” “Just my little joke, sir,” said the officer. “We don’t actually arrest animals.” “Oh right,” said Bertie, “of course not.” “I expect the detector is playing up. It’s all very new – this technology. But if you see anything suspicious, do let us know.” “I promise I will Officer,” said Bertie, who thought that the policeman probably did not believe in magic, but was only doing his job. And so Bertie went back to the palace, relieved not to have been caught breaking his own law. Beatrice was waiting for him on the steps and she gave him an extra special hug because for the first time since he had become a prince again, she had seen him acting like his old self, and he had made everyone happy. “I would so love to have met your mother,” said said. “Because she was obviously very much like you.” And Bertie felt at last that he had found himself. And that was the story of Bertie and the Magic Pancakes. There will of course be more Bertie stories on Storynory.com. Now he’s a prince again, there are all sorts of possibilities, and of course we need to see what developments there will be on the pond where the Wicked Queen lives. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn3.txt b/text/sn3.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..aca3d5bbf306b34a20d981737a2f381cd9352650 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn3.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +But Katie discovers that True Love must come from the heart, not from a magic spell. And if you like Valentine stories try: Read by Natasha. Duration 17 Minutes. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Katie went to a nice school where most of the teachers were kind, but some of them were quite strict, and all of them could be moody and grumpy at times, just like anyone else can be. Unfortunately, Katie’s form teacher was more grumpy and more moody than most, and more often. She was the only teacher in the whole school who the children hadn’t given a nick name to. For instance, Mr Philpots was known as Potty, which seemed to suit him quite well. Mrs Woodruff was called dandruff, and Miss Tidy was called Untidy because she was. Katie’s teacher was called Miss Vile. That was her real name. So she didn’t have a nickname, because quite frankly, she didn’t need one. “Katie!” she said one morning. “This homework looks like it was done in about five minutes. You know that you are meant to spend at least half an hour on it. You will stay in at playtime and do it again.” “Katie!”she said another time. “Those tights are not regulation school uniform. I will call your mother, she must take you home, and you must change them.” “And Katie!”she said yet another time. “Stop muttering to yourself. You know that magic spells are against the school rules.” When anybody misbehaved Miss Vile wrote their names up on a board called “The Wall of Shame.”Everyone’s name was on it, except for Samantha’s and Matthew’s, because they were both goody-two-shoes who never did anything wrong. But Katie’s name was written on The Wall of Shame more than anybody else’s. In fact, it was written right at the top of the board in large red letters with ten exclamation marks after it. Katie didn’t feel ashamed. But she did feel cross because it wasn’t fair. It was the end of January. Katie’s form was learning about the Chinese New Year, and how each year is named after an animal. Miss Vile asked Katie what was her Chinese symbol, and she said that she was born in the Year of the Cat, and then Miss Vile told her that that was impossible, because there wasn’t a Year of the Cat, and Katie said: “It’s possible for me because I’m a witch, and all witches are born in the Year of the Cat.” And the whole class laughed, but Isis said: “That’s right Miss Vile. Katie’s different because she is a witch.” “What utter clap-trap!” exclaimed Miss Vile. “I’ve told you before not to talk nonsense about magic and witches. You will go and see the head teacher right now! Both of YOU! And take this note with you to explain all about your naughtiness!” And while Katie and Isis were waiting to see the head teacher, they both felt very sad and wondered what they could do about Miss Vile. “Couldn’t you turn her into a toad or something?” asked Isis. But Katie shook her head. If Miss Vile suddenly turned up to school one day as a toad, everyone would know who was to blame, and I would be in a huge heap of trouble. I might even get expelled for turning a teacher into a toad. And then the Head Teacher called Katie and Isis into her study. She read the note, and shook her head. But she wasn’t too cross, because she knew all about Katie. “I know that you are a bit different,”she said to Katie, “and that you can do all sorts of magic spells, but it’s best not to mention it to anybody, ok? Some things are best kept a secret. Now go back to your lessons both of you.” Katie and Isis didn’t see much point in hurrying back to the class, and so they both sat in the cloak room and talked over the problem of Miss Vile. “Well if you can’t turn her into something horrid, maybe you can turn her into something nice,” said Isis. And Katie thought about this. But she couldn’t imagine Miss Vile being anything nice, and she thought that the magic wouldn’t work. “I’ve got it!” said Isis. “It will be Valentine’s Day soon. Why don’t you make her fall in love? Grown-ups are always in a happy mood when they are in love, and she’ll be nice and kind to us.” Katie thought that was a brilliant idea, because witches know all sorts of magic spells for making people fall in love. But there was only one question. Who with? “Why with Potty of course,”said Isis, “He hasn’t got a wife. Why don’t you make him send her flowers and chocolate, and then she’ll be dancing on air.” Katie and Isis both had a fit of giggles, and when they got back to class everyone wondered why they were both looking so happy after a visit to the Head Teacher’s study. At home that evening, Katie opened up her mother’s book of spells and turned the pages to “L” for Love. There were loads and loads of spells, but some of them were a bit impractical. For instance, if she followed one spell she would need to get hold of some big toe nail clippings from Mr Philpots and a lock of hair from Miss Vile. That didn’t sound very easy. For another spell, she needed some mandrake’s root from the magic grocery shop, and mandrake’s root was very expensive. And then she found a spell that just required pictures of the two people who were to fall in love, and that was easy because she had a photograph of the whole school from the end of summer term. It was a shame that she had to cut it up with a pair of scissors, but it was in a good cause. On February the 14th, which as everyone knows is Valentine’s day, Miss Vile came into class looking quite different. Isis said afterward that she looked like she was lightly tripping on air. When they saw her, Katie and Isis both felt sure that she had found a box of chocolates, a bunch of red roses and a card next to her locker in the staff room. “Miss Vile. I’m really sorry, but I didn’t have time to do my home work last night.” The whole class went silent and you could have heard a drawing pin drop. But Miss Vile said: “Never mind Katie. It wasn’t very important anyway.” And everyone gasped. And then Katie said: “Actually, I was just joking. I did do it really!” And Miss Vile smiled and said. “Ah yes, that’s a funny joke. You got me there.” And everyone was totally amazed. I mean like gobsmacked. And Katie smiled to herself. She knew that her spell had worked. But what Katie didn’t know was that Miss Vile had not just received one box of chocolates, and one bunch of flowers that morning. No. She had received two of each! And two Valentine’s Day cards. No wonder she was in such a good mood. That evening, Isis and her mum were out shopping in town, and Isis saw Potty and Miss Vile standing outside a restaurant window and looking at the menu. And Isis said to her mum: “Look! How romantic! Our teachers are going out for a candle-lit dinner on St. Valentine’s day!” And her mum thought that Isis was getting very grown up to make a remark like that. “My oh my. Just look at the price of steak and chips at this place. Let’s find somewhere cheaper.” But because Miss Vile was in love, she didn’t think that her dear Potty was stingy. No, she thought how clever he was to be careful with money, and what a good husband he would make. For the rest of term, Miss Vile was as sweet as could be, but when the children came back for the summer term, they were in for a big disappointment. Her first words were: “The first person who so much as whispers will be picking up litter after school for the rest of term.” And Katie and Isis both knew that she Miss Vile must have fallen out of love. Katie was disappointed because it seemed that her spell had not worked entirely as it was supposed to. And so she asked her mother whether the love spell using pictures was any good. She was careful to explain that it wasn’t for her, but for somebody else. And her mother said: “Love spells work, but only for a while. It’s only True Love that lasts for ever, not magic love. True Love must come from the heart.” And when Katie heard that, she understood that it wasn’t her fault that the spell hadn’t lasted. And when she told Isis about this they both felt a bit down. But at least they only had one more term with Miss Vile – and after the summer holidays they would have a new form teacher. And Miss Vile was her old grumpy moody self for the next five weeks. But then after the half term holiday, everyone had a pleasant surprise. She was back to being lovely and carefree. “Katie, did you put another spell on her?” asked Isis. But Katie hadn’t. No what had happened was that Mr Cotton had worked up the courage to ask Miss Vile to go to the opera with him. Mr Cotton had two nicknames. One was “Socks” as in “cotton socks” and the other was “Mr Rotten.” But the second name was unfair, because Mr Cotton was the sweetest and kindest teacher in the whole school. And now Mr Cotton and Miss Vile had found their True Love. Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn30.txt b/text/sn30.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..8d5e5aac150a496b233cdd0e7e848ed95242e66d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn30.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +What would it be like to be a frog? Have you ever wanted to be one just for a day? You haven’t? Well Princess Beatrice loves animals so much that she once wished for just that… and she soon regretted it. Bertie and the Frog Princess Hello, this is Natasha, and I’m here with the last story from both the palace and the pond. As you have no doubt heard, Bertie is a prince again and reunited with princess Beatrice. The wicked queen and Prince Boris are living on the pond as frogs. Let’s catch up with the last news from those enchanted waters. After the wicked queen was turned into a frog, and went to live in the pond, she set up her court in a little cave among the rocks, just under the fountain. She made it her palace. All it took was a couple of simple spells to create the right atmosphere for a frog queen. The first spell pushed out the family of frogs who were living there at the time. They were moved by magic to the smelly side of the pond, where all the slime and duck weed collects. The next spell added some turrets and fluted pillars and a drawbridge. Inside there was a little marble bathroom with gold taps, and a kitchen where Prince Boris the Frog prepared their dinner made out of squashed flies and cockroaches. On a sunny day, she would often sit out on the terrace, and keep an eye on her new subjects, all the pondlife who lived in surrounding water. Sometimes she would call everyone together and proclaim laws like, “Everyone must make their own beds and tidy up after breakfast. The penalty for failing to do so is life imprisonment inside a snail shell.” You would be hard pushed to find a single frog, tadpole, fish or duck who was happy about the new regime on the pond. If somebody had asked Colin the carp his opinion, he would have been glad to give it. In fact, nobody did ask him, but he gave it anyway. “They’re all the same; these princes, queens, and politicians. They’re just in it for what they can get out of it. We’d be better off without them. Give ‘em all a big kick up the behind, that’s what I say.” At first some friendly fish nodded and guffawed in agreement, but soon nobody was listening to Colin very much. To tell you the truth, most of the pond’s creatures were too afraid to even think an opinion, let alone speak one out loud. Everyone knew that the wicked queen had some fearful magic. There was one bird who refused to believe that anyone, even the wicked queen, could be all evil. Sadie the Swan was certain that that there must be a teeny weeny bit of good in the queen because, after all, she was royal. Sadie was sure of that because was was an ardent Royalist – in other words she believed that royals know best, and should always be in charge of everything. One day, she was enjoying a quiet natter with Tim the Tadpole’s mum. “You know what, Henrietta,” she said, “I’m going to put in a personal petition to our new queen.” “Do you really think that is a good idea?” Replied Tim’s mum, who was not at all sure what a personal petition meant, but thought that it sounded rather reckless. “Surely she won’t mind,” said Sadie. “I think it is rather flattering when people request you to help them. All I am asking her to do, is to turn me into a human princess. I have always known that deep down inside, I was meant to be royal. I am sure it would only take the teeniest weeniest bit of magic to make my dream come true.” “I would swim carefully if I were you,” warned Tim’s mum, “She doesn’t look to me like the sort who does favours.” But Sadie was undaunted. She swam over to the fountain and the queen’s palace, curtsied a little in the water, and said, “Your majesty. I have come to you with a humble petition. May it be your pleasure, your greatness, to turn me into a human princess?” The queen looked across from the balcony straight at the swan’s red beak and said simply, “Why?” “Because, Your Majesty, I have always felt that I was born to be royal.” “My dear, dream on,” replied the queen with great contempt. Prince Boris was just inside the palace, but he had heard this exchange and he hopped out to give the queen his opinion. “I know her,” he said. “She’s just a silly stuck up swan. I’ve seen her many a time, swanning around the pond like she’s a princess, but in fact anyone can tell that she’s as common as muck.” Sadie was indignant. She pointed her beak at Boris and hissed quite viciously. The queen raised her voice and said, “Now now, none of that my dear. Prince Boris is quite correct in this matter. You see that worm over there who is sticking his bald ugly head out of the earth. No doubt he thinks he’s the Emperor Napoleon. In truth, you are no more royal than he is.” While this right royal scandal was disturbing the calm waters of the the pond, up in the rose garden of the palace, Bertie and Beatrice were taking a romantic walk, arm in arm. The prince and princess could hardly believe that they were in each other’s company. Bertie had been away for so long as a frog, that they could never take their togetherness for granted. Every moment together had a magic of its own. She looked at her prince. He was in many ways just like his old self, but she could feel that inside he was different. I mean anyone who had been a frog for eight years would be bound to change a bit, wouldn’t they? “Bertie,” she said. “Can you describe what it feels like to be a frog?” “Well,” said Bertie, “Croak. Whoops… excuse me, those croaks still slip out sometimes.” Beatrice giggled. She wasn’t sure if he did that as a joke or not. “All my life I’ve loved animals,” she said, “And you really know what it feels like to be one. You can see why I’m so fascinated.” Bertie walked on a few steps while he gathered his thoughts. “It was a big comedown of course,” he said. “I grew up a prince with nannies and servants and toys and the most delicious chocolate cake for tea. Then all of a sudden I was a funny green creature who ate flies. I had to live shoulder to shoulder with all that pondlife. Little tadpoles were swimming around bothering me all the time. There was this fish, a carp called Colin, who was so rude. I mean he called me names like, “pompous,” “fat,” and “stupid.” Nobody had ever spoken to me like that before, apart from my little brother, and Prince Boris, and the wicked queen – well nobody who wasn’t royal would have dared to be so discourteous. There was a swan who had all these ridiculous airs and graces. I didn’t know what to make of her. But then, bit by bit, I began to realise that they might be common or garden species, but they had hearts. Even an amphibian has feelings, you know.” “Oh I do know,” said Beatrice, stroking the back of his head. They were sitting down now on a grassy knoll among the apple trees. “I think it changed me for the better,” concluded Bertie, “I learned humility.” “That’s a good word,” said Beatrice approvingly. “Yes, it means realising that you aren’t actually any better than anyone else, just because you were lucky enough to be born in a palace with a silver spoon for your fruity yoghurt.” “Oh, Bertie,” said Beatrice, “I do think it did you good. How I wish I could be a frog just for a day, so I could truly share that experience with you.” Bertie suddenly became very serious. He sat up straight and said sternly, “Beatrice, you must be very careful what you wish for, because the wicked queen might hear you – and if you wish for something bad, she has the power to make it happen.” Beatrice kissed him on the cheek and said, “Don’t fuss darling, I’ll be careful.” They would have spent all day walking hand in hand talking sweet nothings, but Bertie had something important to do. The World Cup was on and he wanted to get back to the TV room in time for the kickoff of the big match. Beatrice watched him run across the lawn back to the palace and she carried on wandering. Soon she found herself down by the the pond. She thought of all the times she had been here, sharing her thoughts out loud with the ducks and fishes, and not realising that her Bertie was just a few feet away, croaking on a lily leaf. She felt guilty that she had not sensed his presence. Perhaps that was why she exclaimed, “Oh how I wish I could be a frog just for one day, so I could truly know what he went through.” The wicked queen was crouching on the terrace of her palace under the fountain. She heard her stepdaughter utter those fateful words. Quick as a flash, she caught Beatrice’s wish on the end of her tongue as if it were a passing insect. With Beatrice’s wish inside her frog’s tummy she thought, “What a dunderhead! She always was soft in the brain. Oh well, if that’s her wish, who am I to deny it?” Before the power of the silly wish could fade, she used her magic to make it come true. Beatrice thought, “What’s this? I’ve come all over all funny.” Then she said, “Oh dear me. Croak!” She tried to run back to the palace but she found that she was hopping. Then she heard a familiar voice call out, “Not that way, Beatrice. Over here to the pond where you belong now. So lovely of you to wish that you could join us.” Beatrice jumped into the water. She had always been good at swimming, but now she found she could do an elegant scissor step that sent her shooting forward. “This does feel good,” she thought. “It will be fun just for one day.” When she reached the fountain she hopped onto a rock and looked up at the balcony. “Hello stepmother,” she said. “I trust you are well.” “Oh, I’ve never been better,” she lied. She sent Prince Boris to help Beatrice find her way up to the palace. He hopped over the stones and said in his smarmy voice, “Good old girl Beatrice. I knew you wouldn’t be able to stand that idiot Bertie for long. Now we can marry and live happily ever after.” “Oh no, you don’t understand,” said Beatrice. “I’m just here for one day, to see what it’s really like to be semi aquatic.” Boris thought to himself, “Just one day, hey? I’ll ask the wicked queen to make it forever and a day,” but he said, “Well since you have such a short time among us, I’d better show you around. What would you like to see?” “Oh I’d love to meet all the characters on the pond,” said Beatrice. “Bertie has told me so much about his friends; the carp, the swan, and the tadpole.” “In that case I’ll introduce you to Colin the Carp. He’s a charming old gentleman who always has an interesting view on almost any topic.” Boris dived into the water and Beatrice followed. They swam over to the gloomiest part of the pond where Colin liked to hang around, watching for unwary flies, hovering above the water. If he saw a particularly juicy one, he would leap out and snatch it in his jaws. “Ahoy there, Colin. There’s a special visitor who wants to meet you,” called out Boris. Colin poked his head up and said, “Tell whoever it is to make an appointment. I’m busy.” “But she’s just with us for a short time,” lied Boris. “Her name is Princess Beatrice.” “Do you mean the so called Lovely Princess Beatrice, that Bertie was always droning on about?” Said Colin. “I don’t suppose it’s her fault that he bored us all to death with his non stop pining for her.” These words were music to Beatrice’s ears. She swam over to Colin and planted a froggy kiss on his old head. “It’s so lovely to meet you Colin,” she said, “Bertie’s told me all about you.” Colin actually blushed and said, “Well Princess, the pleasure is all mine.” She had been on the pond no more than quarter of an hour, and she already had won one devoted fan. The cockney sparrows tweeted out the word that the lovely Princess Beatrice was visiting the pond in the form of a gracious frog. Soon everyone wanted to meet her. Sadie the swan told her that this was the most exciting day of her life, and Tim the Tadpole asked what tasted better, pistachio ice cream or green slime? Everyone who spoke to her felt enchanted by her her charm and grace. Everyone, that is, except for Prince Boris and the wicked queen. “Don’t worry, Boris,” said the queen, “Her popularity will run a bit thin when she’s done six months of hard pond life, and everyone can see what an airhead she is.” That evening, when the sun was setting, Beatrice joined the queen on the terrace of the palace and said, “Thank you, stepmother, from the bottom of my heart, for granting my wish to be a frog for a day. It has always been my dream to be able to talk to the animals, and you made it come true. Now will you change me back into a princess please? Because I simply can’t wait to tell Bertie all about it.” But the wicked queen smiled to herself and said, “Beatrice my dear. What’s the rush? Why do you want to go back to that nincompoop Bertie? Prince Boris is a far more suitable suitor now that you are a frog.” “But stepmother, I only wished to be a frog for a one day.” “Did you my dear? I must have misheard. I thought you said forever and a day. Never mind. Don’t cry. You’ll find that life can be quite comfortable here on the pond. We’ll have dinner soon. Prince Boris is preparing squashed flies in a salad of green slime, and he’s roasted a cockroach. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten” “Oh no!” Cried out Beatrice. “You can’t do this. Bertie will be frantic with worry.” It was true, he was worried. His team was losing 2-1 in the World Cup and there were only ten minutes to go before the final whistle. When it was over, and he knew that his team were packing their bags and going home, he went to look for Beatrice because she always cheered him up. But she wasn’t in her room, and she wasn’t anywhere inside the palace. He had a funny feeling that something was wrong. Badly wrong. He went outside into the garden, and ran through the rose garden and the orchard. All the time he was calling out, “Beatrice, oh Beatrice. Lovely princess, where are you?” But all he heard back was the sound of a nightingale singing, and the occasional cricket creaking. With a feeling of dread in his heart he went down to the pond. He stood by the water and called out, “Now listen here, wicked queen. Beatrice had gone missing and I’ve got a strong idea that you’ve got something to do with this. If you have, give her back this instant or you will be jolly sorry.” He got his reply back right away. It was a raucous chorus of croaks coming from the direction of the fountain. The wicked queen and Prince Boris were laughing at him. Bertie waved his fist at them. “Don’t think you can get away with this, you bounders!” But what could he do? He had no magic powers. He ran back to the palace, determined to fetch help, but what sort of help? By the time he arrived in his room, he knew he had to fight magic with magic, and there was only one person who could help him. Bertie had a distant relative who was a witch. Her name was Aunt Katerina and she belonged to the Russian side of his family. These days she lived in Edinburgh, in Scotland, because she liked the bitter and biting wind that reminded her of St. Petersburg. It was late. In fact it was midnight – but surely that was the best time to call a witch? Fortunately he was connected to her on Skype. He pressed her icon and it rang, and rang… “Oh do please answer, Aunty Katerina,” he muttered to himself. Eventually she did. Her face, which was extremely beautiful even though she was getting on in years, filled the screen. “My nephew,” she said, in her still Russian accent, “It has been so long. If I had known you were a frog all that time I would have told Beatrice what to do to rescue you.” “Yes, she did seem a bit clueless,” said Bertie, “But now she’s been turned into a frog, and I have to admit that I’m as clueless as she was. To tell you the truth, I’m in a bit of a funk. Tell me Aunty, you are my only hope, what must I do to get her back?” “Ha ha, isn’t it obvious?” Laughed his witchy aunty. “It is?” Asked Bertie, forlornly. “Perfectly. Have you lost your marbles? Don’t you understand? You must kiss her,” said his aunt. “Oh. Of course,” said Bertie. He was about to sign off and run down to the pond when another question popped into his head. “By the way,” he said, “What chance is there that the wicked queen might turn me back into a frog again? I shouldn’t like that to happen. Now I’m a prince again, I am starting to relearn all the advantages of being human, and I am rather enjoying it.” “Don’t worry too much,” replied his aunt, “after eight years as a frog, I should think you have plenty of immunity against that type of spell. It’s rare to catch it twice.” Bertie ran down to the pond. He stood by the water and called out softly, “Beatrice, darling Beatrice. Come here, I can help you. ” But Beatrice was hiding behind a stone on the gloomy side of the pond, and she was softly crying. She felt ashamed to show herself because she felt she had been such a fool to let herself be tricked by the wicked queen and that smarmy Prince Boris who wanted to marry her. Bertie called again, “Beatrice, I know you are there darling, please let me see you.” Colin the Carp heard Bertie’s voice. He nudged Beatrice and said, “Princess, are you deaf or something? Can’t you hear that Bertie’s calling you?” “Leave me alone,” cried Beatrice. “I don’t want to see him. I can’t. I’ve been such a ninny to get myself into this fix. He warned me not to wish for anything bad, and I went ahead and did it. Oh, what a fool I’ve been!” Colin nudged her again and said, “Now listen here Beatrice. Bertie spent eight years on this pond and everyday he wished that you would come down to the water and call out his name. Now he’s come to you. So you’d better hop over to him right away or I’ll be cross. You don’t want to see me cross because I’m ugly when I’m angry.” For a moment, Bertie hesitated. A thought passed through his head that the wicked queen might have tricked him and come in Beatrice’s place. The last person he wanted to plant a kiss on was her. What a wrong he would do to the world if he turned her back into a person. Beatrice croaked again. This time Bertie knew it was her. He felt a connection in his heart. He knelt down and she hopped into the palm of his hand. He moved his face towards her green head and placed his lips gently on them. A few moments later he was reunited with his princess. And that was the story of Bertie and the Frog Princess. We hope the you enjoyed the story and the lovely new picture by Chiara Civati. She’s also doing some new illustrations for our story, Bertie in Siberia, which you can find on Storynory.com. For now, from me, Natasha \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn31.txt b/text/sn31.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9fa7d70ba420c72eae90bd09d68ab9bc8411549e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn31.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Could you live without your technology? What would you do without your digital games? Princess Beatrice thinks that Bertie spends far too much time lying on the couch and playing games on his tablet. Sounds familiar? She takes him on holiday to the Land that Time Forgot where all modern technology is banned. How will Bertie manage? Story by Bertie Read by Natasha. Bertie in the Land that Time Forgot - Throughout the long years that Bertie was a frog, he had missed out on so many things: like the new Angry Insects Game and the 3D Vampire movies. In fact, back in the time when the Wicked Queen made him green and amphibious, iPads had not even been invented yet. Wow! It’s hard to imagine that world, isn’t it? As soon as he became a human prince, he made up for lost time. He quickly got to level 300 in Droid Rush, and his island on DigCraft was the most spectacular you ever saw. Almost everyone was impressed by Bertie’s rapid progress at gaming. But not Beatrice. She thought that Bertie spent far too much time lying on the sofa with his tablet, and not nearly enough time in the real world with her. There were days when she thought that quite frankly, he might as well still be a frog because when she tried to speak to him, he just stared at her blankly and said, “Croak,” before going back to his game. When it came to picking a summer holiday, Bertie was happy to leave that to Beatrice. “This is where I want to go,” she said as she handed him a brochure. It was painted on thick paper, almost like card, and the colours were all slightly faded. Its title, in Gothic letters, announced: Bertie turned the pages. There were pictures of horse-drawn carts, penny-farthing bicycles, fat policemen, steam trains, and people wearing flouncy hats and plus-four trousers. “Is this some sort of time travel?” Asked Bertie, who was willing to believe that anything was possible. “Not exactly,” replied Beatrice, “but it’s a bit like going back in time. It’s a whole kingdom that has decided to go back to old fashioned ways. They’ve banned modern motor cars, mobile phones, game consoles, and television, and processed food… and all the things that make life hectic and distracting and stressful. People go there to detox, you know, get all that sort of stuff out of their system – because quite frankly, some people are addicted to their gadgets, games and gizmos.” “And what would we do there?” asked Bertie, puzzled. “Well instead of playing Angry Insects on your tablet, you could talk to me and go for romantic walks,” said Beatrice. Bertie knew that his fate was sealed, and he had to make the best of things. He decided to surprise Beatrice by becoming a proper old fashioned prince just for the holiday. He bought some shirts with cufflinks and collars that you fasten on with studs. He found a blazer with gold buttons, and he grew a moustache which he waxed so that it was all twirly. All motor vehicles made before 1970 were banned from the kingdom. But Bertie found a vintage motorbike in the garage that had belonged to his uncle. The mechanic got it working, and polished it with wax so it was all shiny. Beatrice sat behind Bertie. They took their luggage in a sidecar. He gave the bike a kick start and the engine roared. They rode to the Land that Time Forgot with plenty of spluttering and clattering – and Beatrice loved every minute of clinging to Bertie’s waist and feeling at one with the world as it rushed by. When they reached the border post, the soldiers on guard went through their luggage searching for any illegal modern gadgets. Luckily they did not discover that Bertie had a mobile phone and charger sewn into the lining of his leather jacket. They drove over rugged mountains to the capital city. Once they were there, they bumped over cobbled streets past iron railings, gateways guarded by stone lions, houses built out of large stones – under arches, and through squares where fountains played. Sometimes the narrow way was blocked by a horse and cart. Almost everyone they saw wore a hat of some sort – as it was a holiday place, straw boaters were popular. The cars were black and squarish, but ever so beautiful. They felt quite at home in the hotel, because it was like a palace. Its marble and crystal and panelled walls made it even more opulent than they were used to. The beds were covered in pillows, so they could have great cushion fights. The bath was so big that you could swim in it. Bertie could hide behind the giant curtains and jump out and surprise Beatrice when she came back from the bathroom. In the day they visited the cathedral and the art gallery, and watched the changing of the guard outside the King’s palace. In the evening they went to the ballet. A beauty and health spa was tucked away inside the basement of the hotel. Beatrice booked herself in for a steam bath, followed by a massage, a facial, and a manicure and pedicure. Her beauty pampering would take all morning. Bertie stayed up in their suite of rooms. He told Beatrice that he was going to read War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, but in fact he did not manage more than a few pages before he started to think about the mobile phone he had smuggled across the border. He took out his nail scissors and carefully cut open the lining of his motor bike jacket. He did not expect it to function as a phone while they were in the Land that Time Forgot, but the games were all working fine. Soon he was happily zapping space invaders. But oh dear, Beatrice returned sooner than expected. She had not enjoyed the treatment. The steam room was so cold you could catch a chill, and the masseur should have been an all-in-wrestler. She was in a bad mood when she stormed into the room and said: “Bertie! What are you doing?” Bertie looked up guiltily. “Just phoning my Aunt Gertrude to see how she is,” he lied. “No you’re not. You’re playing games,” said Beatrice angrily. “I’m confiscating that,” and she snatched the phone off him and put it in her silk purse. “How did the king know we were here?” asked Bertie. “We are booked into the hotel using false names.” “Well I told him we were coming,” said Beatrice. “He’s my uncle.” “You kept that quiet,” said Bertie. “I thought you might not approve,” said Beatrice blushing. “You mean he’s the brother of the Wicked Queen?” “Well you know, all royals are one big family, and he’s really very nice,” said Beatrice. “Hmm, I would not call somebody who stops you using a mobile phone nice,” said Bertie. Then it was Beatrice’s turn to sulk. They both had to cheer up in time for lunch at the palace. Beatrice’s uncle Ferdinand wore a white uniform emblazoned with medals and had a neat grey beard so that he looked a little bit like the last Tsar of Russia. The meal was served on the terrace overlooking the river and they watched steamboats and pleasure cruisers sailing past. Beatrice praised the food. “It’s such a joy to eat tomatoes which really taste like tomatoes, and new potatoes that are bursting with flavour. Everything from the supermarket at home is so bland and same-y,” she gushed. “This breed of potato is named in my honour,” boasted their host. “They are called King Ferdinands, and it will be my honour to decree that the tomatoes be named after my darling niece… From henceforth they shall be called Princess Beatrices.” Beatrice was delighted with the compliment from her uncle. Bertie asked Ferdinand why he had decided to turn his kingdom into the Land that Time Forgot. “I thought it was good marketing,” he replied. “These days small kingdoms have to differentiate themselves in the market otherwise they just get over-shadowed by bigger and flashier holiday destinations.” “You mean it was a business decision?” said Beatrice, disappointedly. “I thought it was more because you were into traditional values and conserving the past.” “Oh no, just scratch the surface and you’ll find a very modern kingdom,” said Ferdinand. “It all looks old fashioned, but underneath this is the most technologically advanced theme park in the world.” “It is?” said Bertie, surprised. “Oh yes, rather,” said Ferdinand. “Have you seen the changing of the guard? All the soldiers are computer generated in 3D. It’s the cheapest army to run in the whole world! We don’t have to pay for a single tin of boot polish.” “Wow,” said Bertie. Even Beatrice was impressed. It turned out that all the works of art in the gallery were also electronic fakes, and that the steam trains and even some of the horse drawn carriages were all operated by a sophisticated computer system. Many of the buildings were actually built with virtual reality blocks and then projected onto screens, but they looked so real you could never tell unless you tried to walk into them. As for the real tasting tomatoes and potatoes, they were all developed in the laboratory. And the roast beef was made out of genetically modified soya beans. Bertie enjoyed the dessert, because it was a light, fluffy and bright concoction that tasted of strawberries and was made from a packet of powder and whipped up with condensed milk. As they thanked their host, he asked an awkward question: “By the way, how’s my sister?” He meant of course The Wicked Queen. Bertie blushed slightly and said, “Oh we don’t talk to her much now. She’s a frog, you know, and lives in the pond.” “I heard,” said Ferdinand darkly. “That wasn’t very nice of you Bertie, was it, to go turning your future mother in law into a piece of pondlife.” “I did no such thing,” said Bertie. “I’m not a magician. First she turned me into a frog, and then when I became human again, she turned herself into one by accident. Serves her right too for being so wicked.” “Well it has come to my attention that you have broken the laws of our kingdom by smuggling a mobile phone across the frontier,” said Ferdinand. And when Bertie heard those words, he felt a sense of foreboding – like he had walked into a trap. He glanced at Beatrice. She bit her lip and looked anxious. The king ordered Bertie to empty his pockets, and when that did not turn up the illegal phone, he told the guards to search him. “We shall have to search your room a second time,” he said. Bertie realised that their room was being searched while they were at lunch. He thought what a good thing it was that Beatrice had confiscated his phone. But oh no! Just then there was a loud De De De DEEEEEEE! Bertie’s phone was ringing in Beatrice handbag. “Excuse me,” said Beatrice, as cool as a cucumber. She opened her bag and answered it. It was a sales agent who was giving a courtesy call to see if Bertie wanted a better deal on his palace’s insurance policy. “Er he’s not here right now,” said Beatrice and hung up. “Guards, arrest the princess,” ordered the king. And two soldiers came up and placed strong hands around her arms. “No, don’t arrest her. Arrest me! It’s my phone,” protested Bertie. But King Ferdinand laughed and said, “That was my plan, Bertie, but now I see it is better to detain the princess. If you want her back, you shall have to restore my sister to her former glory.” “But I’ve no idea how to do that,” said Bertie. “She’s stuck as a frog for a few years at least.” “You’ll find a way,” said Ferdinand. “My soldiers will escort you to the border. Go back home and unfrog her, or you will never marry your darling lovey dove’yprincess.” “Bertie don’t do it!” called out Beatrice. “She’s too wicked. The world is far better off with her on the pond.” “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” said Bertie, crestfallen. A day and half later, Bertie returned home alone, and feeling very angry. He had to rescue Beatrice, but short of declaring war on the Land that Time Forgot, how could he force Ferdinand to release her? He was so down, he did not even want to play computer games. His cyber-friend Prince Sven, was messaging him, challenging him to a round of Space Dragons. He had never actually met Prince Sven, but they played games online together. He tried to ignore Sven but his phone kept on buzzing with messages. Eventually Bertie opened up his chat app and wrote: “Can’t play today. Fiancée got arrested while we were on holiday. Trying to sort it out. Might have to declare war.” “Cool,” messaged Sven back. “Have you ever tried Cyber War?” “No time for games right now,” replied Bertie. “This is no game,” wrote Sven. “I mean Cyber War for real.” The first indication that all was not right in the Land that Time Forgot came when diners at the hotel started sending their food back to the kitchen. They complained that the King Ferdinand potatoes smelled like rotten cabbages, and the chocolate pudding tasted of beetroot. Then visitors to the art gallery no longer found French Impressionist paintings on the walls, but action comic strips about super heroes. The ballet was taken over by hip hop dancers. The soldiers outside the palace, instead of changing the guard, linked arms and did the French Can Can. A horse and cart puffed out stinky purple exhaust fumes. Rococo Buildings turned into glass and concrete sky scrapers. One of them took off like a rocket and whizzed around the sky like some sort of berserk firework. The traffic lights went crazy and traffic jams of vintage cars clogged up the cobbled streets. Police sirens were wailing everywhere. The once tranquil capital city was loud, smelly and congested. King Ferdinand was on his mobile phone trying to get through to technical support. All the lines were engaged and he was listening to bland elevator music, getting more and more furious by the minute. Eventually he got through to his Chief Technical Office who gasped: “Sorry Sir, we are under attack!” “What sort of attack?” Asked the king, desperately. “Cyber attack sir. As soon as we close one gap in our firewall, another one opens. They just keep coming and coming at us. We are doing everything we can but this is a massive offensive against us. It’s all out war, Sir.” Ferdinand was on the balcony of his room. He was so shocked that it took him a minute or so to notice that an army of giant frogs were hopping across the forecourt and invading the palace. The croaking was deafening. It was terrifying. The windows of the palace were rattling. Ferdinand’s hands were trembling. Ambassadors and Foreign ministers were constantly calling. Overseas governments were flying in planes to evacuate tourists. Worse still – holiday agents were cancelling bookings and demanding their money back. Then suddenly, just as the frogs were bursting through the front door of the palace and guards were running for their lives, the attack stopped. All the virtual attackers disappeared. Glass and concrete turned back to stone. Hip hop dancers were ballerinas once again. And joy of joys, the puddings tasted of chocolate. De-De-De-Deeee Fedinand’s mobile phone rang. “Hi there, it’s Bertie,” said a familiar and rather annoying voice. “Do you give up, or shall we resume the cyber attack?” “What do you want?” asked the king. “Just my fiancée back, please,” said Bertie. “Because there is one thing in this world that is real and can never be recreated in virtual reality – and that is love.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn32.txt b/text/sn32.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2d4a883a2c205bdda9e6f72476ae4fb9f7614525 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn32.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +We first recorded Tim the Tadpole's Birthday way back in 2006, but somehow the mp3 file was overwritten and lost. All that is left of the original is this experiment in animation.", 'The video just uses a few lines from the story. Now, for the first time in some years, we present this sparkly story in its entirety. Would you like us to do more Pond Life Stories? Perhaps as a separate series from Bertie? Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth.', "Tim the Tadpole's Birthday -", "And this story is a bit of a time warp. We first recorded it ever so long ago - way back in 2006. It's now almost 2015 - Happy New Year by the way. That means we made this story … um - well quite a few years ago - when Bertie was still a frog and I was a wee tiny girl. My how time flies!", "Well somehow along the way, we lost the audio when Bertie overwrote the file by mistake. That's why Bertie has asked me to read you the story once again.", 'This morning, when I paid a visit to the pond where Prince Bertie the frog lives, Colin the carp was grumping about the place, muttering something about his birthday. Tim the tadpole became very excited because he would love to go to a party in the pond. "Colin," said Tim. "How old are you?" "Too old," said Colin who is a rather grumpy fish. "And very wise. You get that way, when you are as old as I am. Well some do." Just then, Sadie the beautiful black Swan glided by. Tim swam up and asked her: "Sadie, how old are you?" "Tish Tish, little Tim, didn\'t your mother tell you that it\'s not polite to ask a lady her age?" Tim is a very nicely brought up tadpole, so he apologised to Sadie for asking her age, before swishing his little tale and swimming up to Prince Bertie the frog. "Oh Bertie," he said, "can I ask you a terribly important question?" "Ask away, little Tim", boomed Bertie, "a prince knows the answer to everything." "Bertie, can you tell me how old I am?"', "Now all the pond life knew that Tim is always asking silly questions, so Bertie wasn't at all surprised that Tim didn't even know his own age. In fact, secretly, he was rather pleased that Tim's question wasn't too difficult, because in truth, he doesn't always know the answer to every question - not right away, without asking somebody to go and look it up for him.", '"Well little Tim, don\'t you know that you are four and a half?" "Rubbish!" said Colin the carp, who can be rather rude sometimes, especially to Bertie. "If a tadpole was four and a half years old, he wouldn\'t be a tadpole anymore. He\'d be a ugly green frog, just like you." "No, no." said Bertie. "Who said anything about four and a half years? Little Tim is four and a half weeks old. I remember because I met him the day after he was born. He looked just like a little piece of green slime, and I almost ate him, until I noticed at the last moment that he was a tadpole." Now Tim started swimming around in circles, which is what tadpoles do when they are very excited. "Yippee!" he said, "I\'m four and a half weeks old. Not just four by itself! Soon it will be my birthday and we can have a party." Then he said: "Oh!" And he stopped swimming round in circles for a moment. "Bertie, just exactly when is my birthday?" "Why little Tim, it\'s every Monday," said Bertie. "Yippee!!!!" sang little Tim, "next Monday\'s going to be my birthday. Happy Birthday to me! We\'re going to have a part-y."', "And all the creatures who lived in the pond were very happy, apart from Colin, who doesn't like parties, because he thinks that they make little tadpoles get over-excited and disturb his peace and quiet.", "Bertie and Sadie the Swan spent the whole weekend planning Tim's birthday party. They decided to hold swimming races, games of hide-and-seek, Blindman's Bluff and offer prizes of green slime, dead insects and stale bread. Bertie wanted to have an egg and spoon race, but Sadie pointed out that eggs were too precious to risk in a silly game. All the pond life were terribly excited about Tim's party. But nobody was more excited than little Tim. When Monday came he was swimming round and round in circles so fast that he became quite dizzy. Bertie sat on a lily pad and called all the pond life to gather around. The ducklings were peeping excitedly, but the geese were the noisiest of all, honking away so that the pond sounded almost like the centre of the city during the rush hour.", '"Quiet. Be quiet everyone," boomed Bertie. "Now let\'s all sing Happy Birthday Little Tim. One two three, Happy Birthday To You." And all the pond life began to sing "Happy Birthday To You" except for Tim who sang: "Happy Birthday To Me." But just as the whole chorus was swelling up to - "Happy Birthday Little Tim." And Tim was jumping out of the water with excitement, his mother, who is a green frog, like Bertie, only prettier, hopped onto a lily pad near Bertie. Now Tim\'s mother doesn\'t have a very high opinion of Bertie because he isn\'t a true frog - not really - but only a prince who looks like one. She thinks that he is always putting silly ideas into little Tim\'s head, and causing him to get over-excited and ask too many questions. So she ignored Bertie and called out: "Timmy! Timmy! Time to go to Schoo-ool!"', "At first Little Tim didn't hear his mother calling, because the singing was so noisy, and he was so excited, but soon she spotted him, and as he jumped over the water she stuck her tongue out and caught him on it. Then she carefully put her little son on her webbed foot, and started to hop away, from one lily pad to the next. There was a hush over the pond. Everyone stopped singing, and heard little Tim's sobs.", '"Mummy, Mummy, please no. I don\'t want to go to school. Not today. It\'s my birthday. Let\'s go another day. Please no …" "Don\'t be so silly!" said Tim\'s mum. "How can it be your birthday yet. You\'re hardly a month old." "Please Mummy. Please, please, please. I want to go back to my party." "Enough of this nonsense! Hush right now!"', "Little Tim's pitiful pleas were so moving that even Colin the carp felt like crying, until he decided to eat some of the juicy dead flies that were meant to be prizes instead. Sadie the swan sighed:", '"Oh Bertie, that\'s so sad. Little Tim has been looking forward to his party so very much. I didn\'t even know that he went to school." "He hasn\'t learned much," said Colin. "He\'s the silliest creature I\'ve ever met, apart from Bertie that is."', "Bertie ignored this comment, because he knew that Sadie the Swan didn't approve of him fighting with Colin. But secretly, he decided that when he became a prince again, he wouldn't invite Colin to his birthday party. And then Colin would be sorry that he was so rude to Bertie - because Bertie's parties always had lashings of jelly, and popcorn, and the most amazing going away bags anyone ever saw.", '"Come to think of it," said Bertie. "I did hear Tim\'s mother saying the other day that he would be starting school soon. I think this must be his first day.” "It\'s not just Tim who\'s disappointed," said Sadie. "Look at all the little ducklings. They are peeping away and wagging their fluffy tails. They are so looking forward to all the stale bread that we found for them in the rubbish tip behind the Palace, but how can we have a party without the birthday boy?" "If you were a real prince," said Colin, "and a leader of creatures great and small, like you think you are, you wouldn\'t stand for any nonsense from Tim\'s mum. You\'d go and rescue him." For once Bertie thought that sounded like a good idea coming from Colin. He hopped off in the direction that Tim and his mum had gone. He hopped to the end of the lilies, and after that he began to swim up a little stream, pushing against the current with his webbed feet. Finally, round a corner, in a still pool of water protected by a wall of pebbles, he found the school for tadpoles. And there were hundreds, and hundreds, if not thousands and quite possibly millions of them - or at least that\'s what it seemed like to Bertie. He had never seen so many tadpoles in his whole life. But which one was little Tim? Above them all, on a rock, a wise old frog was asking the tadpoles if any of them knew what the first letter of the alphabet was. A clever little tadpole called out "A." "That can\'t be Tim," thought Bertie. "He\'s too silly to know that."', "Next the teacher asked the class if anyone knew what comes out of a duck's egg.", 'Another little tadpole answered: "A duckling." "That can\'t be Tim", thought Bertie, "he\'s far too silly to know that."', "Then the teacher asked what jelly beans were made of. And Bertie was about to put his web-fingered hand up, because even he knows the answer to that one, but then he thought he'd better not, because he wasn't really meant to be there. A clever tadpole in the front row answered it instead.", 'And after a while, a little tadpole called out: "Sir Sir! I\'ve got a question." "Yes, little tadpole," said the teacher. "What is it?" "What kind of cheese is the moon made out of?" And right away, Bertie knew that was his little friend Tim. Only Tim would ask such a silly question. The teacher explained that it is made out of a special cheese called Camembert that is very smelly, which is why nobody lives on the moon. And while he was explaining this, Bertie called out: "Psst … Tim. Come with me. I\'ll take you back to the party."', "Tim was very excited to hear his friend's voice. But he was also very interested in what the teacher had to say. He had learned so many fascinating things since coming to school, and he had only been there ten minutes.", '"Bertie," he whispered back. "I mustn\'t leave school. I\'ll see you this afternoon when class finishes."', "And so Bertie sat and waited for his little friend to finish school. And while he waited, he learned all sorts of interesting things that the teacher told the little tadpoles. Like … it never rains on Tuesdays … you mustn't stand on the lines on the pavement … and jelly babies aren't really babies at all, but just brightly coloured sweets.", "When the school finished, Tim sat on Bertie's back and Bertie hopped back to the pond. It didn't take long to call everyone together again, and so they held Tim's birthday party after all. And all the creatures played games and ate lots and lots of green slime, and dead flies, and stale soggy bread, until they all felt quite sick - but very happy.", "And so it was that after that, Tim went to school in the mornings, and learned lots of interesting things. And he didn't mind, because on Mondays, it was always his birthday, and he was another week older. Colin the carp says it isn't really fair that Tim has a birthday every week, when most people only have one every year. But Bertie says it is better that way … and when he is King one day, everybody will have birthdays every week, and all the cake they can eat.", 'From me, Natasha, and all the pond life … bye! bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn33.txt b/text/sn33.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..07736b68d0d51556661b6748ca41ae60397eb06f --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn33.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +These days, Prince Bertie is a human Prince who lives in the Palace. The Wicked Queen is now a frog who lives on the pond, but that does not stop her making trouble. She persuades a fairy to give some very contrasting dreams to Beatrice and Bertie, leading to heartbreak and rift in their sweetheart relationship. Have you ever wondered where dreams come from? I know I have. Bertie says that our dreams are given to us by a fairy called Queen Mab. And he says that if you don’t believe him, you should check out the play Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare where it’s all explained in one of the speeches. Queen mab is no bigger than your thumbnail, and she flies in a hazelnut shell that was made into a coach for her by squirrels. It’s pulled through the air by gnats. She can land on your nose while you are asleep, and put all sorts of silly ideas into your brain, unless she tickles you so much that you sneeze, which is quite dangerous for her as she’s so small. Shakespeare tells us that she makes lovers dream of kisses and lawyers dream of fat fees. So that’s good, everyone can be happy when they are asleep. A while ago, Queen Mab was flying over a pond. There were loads of silly tadpoles, and she made them all dream that they were playing leap frog. There was a posh swan who dreamt that she was a princess. And there was a grumpy old fish, who dreamt that he was a judge and had sent all the other podlife to prison, and lived happily on his own with nobody to bother him. And then there was a frog, who had once been a wicked queen. She was only pretending to be asleep, and when Queen Mab flew by she stuck out her sticky tongue and caught her on the end of it. Snap! She pulled the poor fairy into her mouth, but did not swallow. “Help! Help!” called out Queen Mab. “Now, don’t get me wrong,” said the wicked queen frog - well she didn’t actually say it because her mouth was full, what she said was : “Ma, na, ma, na mum.” “Bother!” she thought, “and then she realised that as Queen Mab could understand dreams, she could probably read thoughts too, so she rolled out her tongue and looked at the hapless Queen Mab who was still stuck on the end of it. Actually she saw her double because she was looking at her cross-eyed. She thought out loud, “I’m very tempted to swallow you down because I’ll get a warm feeling in my tummy and I might ingest some of your magical powers.” “Oh please let me go. I’ll pay you back with bags of sweet dreams for ever more,” replied the frightened fairy. “I don’t want to overdose on sweetness, thank you very much,” said the frog queen, “but I do want you to give some special dreams to two humans who live in the Royal Palace. Their names are Prince Bertie and Princess Beatrice, you know them right?” “Oh yes,” said Queen Mab, “Bertie likes to dream that people laugh at his funny jokes.” “Dream on Bertie!” exclaimed the Queen. “His jokes are famously unfunny. And what does Beatrice see in her sleep?” “Oh it’s a pleasure to give her dreams, she wants to do kind things, like saving old donkeys from cruel farmers, and giving Royal Pardons to prisoners who promise to be good.” “URG!!! Same old silly, soppy, softie waste of space!” commented the Wicked Queen. “Now listen well. If you want to go free you must promise to give Bertie and Beatrice the exact dreams that I tell you. So what’s it to be? Deal or dinner?” “Deal Deal!” called out Queen Mab. I’m only 621 years old, far too young for a fairy to be your dinner.” “Right-oh,” said the Wicked Queen Frog, as she unstuck her captive and set her on the grass. Poor Queen Mab was shivering with fright and was all wet with froggy saliva. “Now listen well, you pathetic fairy, if you want to live for a few more hundred years, you will follow my instructions to the letter. This is what you must put into Bertie’s head. Let him dream that he has a new Royal Yacht, the biggest, most luxurious, and most expensive boat in the world. He decides to spend his life on this floating hotel, where all his meals including his eggy soldiers and his fish and chips are prepared by a five star michelin chef. He has a personal butler, who squirts toothpaste on his brush for him, and all the many servants and sailors bow and scrape and call him “Your Royal Highness.” He spends all day playing on his tablet and sunning himself around the pool, and in the evening a choir sings him to sleep with ‘All Hail Prince Bertie’. Got that?” “Yes, got it,” said Queen Mab sadly, who thought it was a very spoilt sort of dream to give a prince and might make him rather horrible. “Now this is the dream you must give Beatrice. In her dream she realises that she hates being a princess and living a life of luxury, and all she really wants is to be ordinary. She gives away all her lovely clothes, moves out of the palace, changes her name to Maurine, and finds contentment working as a waitress in a tea shop. Got that too?” “If you are really sure that’s what you want,” said Queen Mab. “Don’t you dare doubt it!” screeched the Wicked Queen frog, and Queen Mab felt so scared that she did not doubt it for a second longer. In fact, she flew straight to the palace where she gave the sleeping Bertie and Beatrice the exact same dreams that the Wicked Frog had described. Now, as you know, Beatrice and Bertie are sweethearts and are engaged to be married. They have promised to hold no secrets from each other, including their inner-most feelings and dreams. In the morning, over the breakfast table, Beatrice said: “Bertie, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we both had the same dreams?” “Yes, it would,” said Bertie, “In fact, last night I had a most amazing dream about living the life of luxury on board a brand new, super-duper Royal Yacht. Now I’m willing to bet an entire box of Greedy Bars that you had the exact same dream, my darling.” “Well, actually,” said Beatrice blushing, “My dream was more profound.” “Great,” said Bertie, “I’m all ears... What does ‘profound’ mean by the way?” “It means it was deep and meaningful, ” said Beatrice, “In fact, in this dream I discovered my true heart’s desire.” “That’s where I come in, right?” said Bertie. “No, Bertie, it wasn’t that sort of true heart’s desire.” “Oh, bother.” “In this dream, I realised that I simply hate being a princess, living a life of luxury and privilege, and all I really want is to be ordinary.” “Ordinary?’ said Bertie. “Boring!!!!!!!” “There is honesty in hard work and daily toil and struggle,” insisted Beatrice. “Oh, I see,” said Bertie, “Poor Beatrice, you had a nightmare.” “Bertie, has it ever occurred to you that it’s simply not fair to have all these lovely clothes, a beautiful room in a palace, servants ready to run and jump at my every whim, invitations to balls and amazing events, and delicious food at every meal, when other people have to work and struggle for a living? I want to be ordinary so that I can live among ordinary people and share their hopes and fears.” Bertie scratched his head,”That was some dream,” he said, “I don’t suppose I would ever have one like that myself.” “Well that’s the trouble,” said Beatrice, “when two people have separate dreams, they can’t be together for the rest of their lives. I’m breaking off our engagement and moving out of the palace as soon as I can rent a room in the town.” “Beatrice, darling, you can’t really mean that,” pleaded Bertie, but she did meant it and she ran back to her room in the West Tower and locked the door. Bertie was certain that her strange dream would wear off by lunchtime. He got on with his busy schedule. That day he was opening a new wing of the town hospital and visiting a school to talk to the children and give them encouragement. Normally Beatrice would have come with him, but he made excuses for her, saying that she had a cold. In the evening, when Bertie got back from his appointments, Beatrice was gone. The palace nurse said she had packed one suitcase and left in a taxi. He found a note under his door saying, Dearest Bertie Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the fairy tale romance, but now I know that my true dream is to live in the Real World.” Yours Beatrice “Oh dear,” said Bertie, “this is more serious than I thought.” He sent a text message saying, “Beatrice my darling dear, everyone missed your loveliness today, especially me.” But Beatrice did not read Bertie’s message because she had bought a new sim card for her phone and changed her number as well as her name. She told people that she was called Maureen. And that is where we leave the first part of Bertie and Beatrice’s Dreams. Do you think that Beatrice is right to say it’s unfair for a prince or a princess to have so many lovely things? Is she wise to give it all up and to become ordinary? Tell us what you think in the comments, and come back to Storynory.com soon to find out how she gets on in next part of our story. Music by Premiumbeat and illustration by Shutterstock. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn34.txt b/text/sn34.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..cee9105e7af64ace0a3cce12a5006ed9ce143a8c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn34.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Beatrice has called off the wedding, left the palace, and gone to live in the town and look for a job. How will the ex-princess get on in the "real world"? Beatrice’s new home was a room in the loft of a tall house. She gazed out of the window at the terrace of houses across the street. Each house was a carbon copy of all the others, except for the colour of the door. There were red, green and blue doors. “To some people this might look like a drab, ordinary street,” she thought, “but to me it is a dream come true.” A family lived in the house. The mother was called Angelina, and she said that Maureen - because that was what Beatrice had pretended her name was - could live in the loft room if she got the kids up in the morning and took them to school. Beatrice, or should I say Maureen, was more than happy with this offer. The kids, Charlie and Ellie, were perfectly nice, though as with all kids, it was a bit of an ordeal getting them to put on their shoes and coats. After she had dropped them off at school, Beatrice went to look for a job. She walked down the High Street until she came to a coffee shop with a notice in the window that read; “New coffee maistro wanted.” She summoned up all her courage and went inside to ask if she could speak to the manager about a job. “Have you ever worked in a coffee shop before?” asked Jenny who ran the shop. “No,” said Beatrice, “ but I’m very artistic and I know how to paint smiley faces and leaf shapes in the froth on top of the coffee.” “Well that’s a good start,” said Jenny, “We’ll give you a try for a day.” Beatrice was put in charge of making the coffee. She painted beautiful faces on all the coffees she made, but she spent so long perfecting each one, that the customers complained: “Leonardo painted the Mona Lisa faster than this,” said one. Jenny decided that Beatrice was not right for the job because she was too slow. The next day, Beatrice signed up with an office agency. They sent her to work as a receptionist in a big shiny building. Her job was to check visitors in, give them security badges, and send them up in the lift to the right floor for their meetings. At first she was very good at this, because she was naturally helpful and all the visitors liked her. But then a smartly dressed man and woman rushed in all flustered and panicky and saying they were late for their meeting. Their names were not on Beatrice’s list, but she gave them badges without delay so as not to make them any later. It turned out that they were thieves who stole four mobile phones and two laptops from a conference room upstairs. Beatrice was fired for letting them into the building. Her next job was as a parking warden. She looked super-smart in her uniform, but as you might guess, she was too soft hearted to give people fines for parking in the wrong place. Every driver had a hard luck sob story, and she let them off. Even when the driver wasn’t there to plead their cause, she felt sorry for them, and imagined that they must have only parked on a double yellow line because they absolutely had to. She was fired for not giving out enough fines. That evening, Beatrice sat in her attic room and cried a little. “I’m really not good at anything,” she thought. She wondered if Bertie was missing her, and for the first time since she left the palace, she put her old sim card in her phone. As soon as the phone switched on, it went, “ping, ping, ping ping!” Because Bertie had been sending her loads and loads of messages like: Beatrice I dream about you all the time, when I’m asleep and awake. and Life isn’t fair, but the world’s a kinder place when you are a princess and I promise to try harder to understand you better and help you fulfill your dreams. There were more messages like this. Beatrice thought: “Ah Bertie, he’s such a sweetie pie. “ She pressed Reply on one of the messages, and was about to ask him to send a limo to pick her up and take her back home to the palace, when a lightning bolt of defiance ran through her: ‘I can’t go back. Not until I’ve succeeded at something on my own two feet without help or favour from anyone.” For the next two days, she looked for jobs, but all them needed good exam results or lots of experience, and Beatrice had neither. Then at last an advertisement caught her eye. It said. She read on. “Are you gutsy enough to face our crowd and tell them jokes? Make our audience laugh, and we’ll pay you 500 pounds. But if you don’t succeed, you get nothing.” “Can’t say fairer than that,” thought Beatrice. Now you may know that Prince Bertie fancies himself as a comedian. Opinion is very divided as to whether he’s actually funny or not, in fact, it would seem that quite a lot of people think not. Beatrice said to herself: “I bet I would be better at making people laugh than Bertie,” and she filled in the entry form on the website calling herself, Maureen the ex princess. Thursday night came. Beatrice had been practicing her comedy act in front of the mirror, and she thought she was pretty funny. As she took the bus to the Ha Ha Club she was confident that she would win the 500 pounds. But when she walked into the club, and saw the stage, she suddenly felt frightened. How embarrassing it would be to tell jokes that nobody thought was funny! It’s all very well if you are Bertie, who has got a skin as thick as a castle moat, but she was a sensitive type. aNow she felt more terrified than the time she met a ghost in the North Wing of the palace. She wanted to run to her mummy, but then she remembered that her stepmother was the Queen frog, and there was no point in running to her because she would just laugh wickedly and call her a good for nothing goody two shoes. So she took a deep breath and reported to the manager. “Good thing you are early,” he said, “Because we’ve got you on first tonight.” “There’s no turning back,” she thought, “I can only do my best.” And that’s what she did. An hour later she stood behind the microphone and blinked. In dark corners of the room people were chatting and not paying any notice of her. Others in the front were gazing up at her intently, and that was even more frightening. “Er hello,” she said, “I used to be a Princess, but now I’m just Maureen.” One person chuckled: she felt so grateful to this unknown supporter that she wanted to kiss him. She glanced up and … oh no, oh my, it couldn’t be, but oh it could be, in fact it was: it was Prince Bertie. This was terrible. How dare he turn up like this and ruin her performance? He had put her in an impossible position. If she wasn’t funny, she had failed, and if she made people laugh, Bertie would hate her for being funnier than him. Well she would show him, she would be hilarious and she did not care how jealous he was of her talent. She launched into her first joke: There was this girl in my class who said to her daddy, “I feel embarrassed. The other kids come to school on the bus and they see me being dropped off by the chauffeur in the Rolls Royce. He replied, “That’s no problem dear, I’ll buy you a bus.’ The audience thought this was pretty funny and Bertie was laughing more than anyone. Beatrice began to enjoy herself. She told everyone about funny things that had happened in her jobs: ‘I was about to give a parking ticket to a car when the driver turned up, clutched his chest and rolled on the ground pretending to have a heart attack. Well even the meanest parking warden can’t give a fine to a sick man. I tore up the ticket and was about to call an ambulance when he jumped up and got into the driving seat: ‘Hey I thought you were dying,’ I said. ‘I just got better,’ he replied , ‘I’m fine, you’re fine, and best of all, there’s no parking fine!’ And when I worked in a coffee shop, there was a smartly dressed woman who came rushing in and called out:’“Quick, quick I need coffee right this second: I’m late for work.” I rushed an emergency coffee to her, she calmly took it, and sat down. At almost lunch time she was still sunk in the sofa staring into the froth of her coffee. I said, “Didn’t you say you were late for work? ’ She glanced at the time and said, ‘Yes, I was late then and I’m even later now.’ ‘Doesn’t your employer mind?’ I asked. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m never late more than once a day.’ ‘Good for you. What do they say when you turn up?’ I asked. She smiled and told me, ‘Well they usually say something like, “Hello Boss.”’ Which explained everything. So now I know a bit more about life in the real world, and to be honest, it does not see, any less unfair than being a princess.” Beatrice’s act went down really well, and at the end of the evening, even though there six acts after her, the judges remembered that hers was the best and awarded her the £500 prize for the funniest act. Bertie came up to her and said, ‘Beatrice, or should I say Maureen, you were brilliant.’ ‘You don’t mind that I won a prize for being funny when you’ve tried loads times and never won anything?’ she asked. ‘And you don’t mind that then judges said I have a great future as a star comedian and they told you to go home and give up because it is foolhardy and dangerous to be so unfunny?’ ‘No,’ said Bertie, ‘I don’t mind. For years it has been my dream to win a prize for being a comedian. I’ve not succeeded yet but I keep on dreaming. And now I see the proof that you and I have shared this same dream. So does that mean that we can be together again?’ ‘Yes, Bertie’ said Beatrice, ‘It does.’ And she got into the Royal Car beside the prince who loved her more than his own dream. And that was Bertie and Beatrice’s Dreams, written by Bertie, and read by me, Natasha, for Storynory.com. And if you enjoyed this story, you might like to know that we have loads and loads of stories about Prince Bertie on the site at www.Storynory.com. Did you know for instance that Bertie spent several years living on the pond as a frog? In those days the Wicked Queen lived in the palace and Beatrice had no idea where her fiance had gone. Then the whole situation was reversed, so know the Wicked Queen is a frog and Bertie lives in the palace. One day he might even marry Beatrice - you never know. If you listen on the podcast, please leave a nice comment for us on iTunes. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn35.txt b/text/sn35.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a0a4e8d4b18756ca42b26a9e8e8240e2b3f2b23a --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn35.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Mum and Dad are going away for a romantic weekend, and “Wicked” Uncle Jeff is left in charge of the children. The children have homework to do, but Uncle Jeff thinks that is far too boring. He has other ideas, and a misadventure follows. Story by Bertie Read by Natasha. Duration 16.46. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth “Well I suppose I could ask Jeff,” said Dad. “Oh no, anybody but Jeff,” said Mum. But as it turned out, there was nobody else but Jeff to be found at such short notice. Jeff was Dad’sbrother. The children hadn’t seen him since they were very small, and Mum called him their “wicked Uncle” because he always forgot their birthdays. Sometimes he sent cards and a ten pound note – but always at completely the wrong time of year. “I bet he is awfully wicked,” said Jemima, “because Mum really really doesn’t like him at all. I think he went to prison.” “Or perhaps he was a pirate.” said Jeremy hopefully. But when Jemima asked Dad if Uncle Jeff had been to prison, Dad said that no he hadn’t, at least, not as far as he knew. But he didn’t say it like he was surprised she had asked. I mean, if somebody asked you if somebody you knew had been to prison, you might at least try to sound a bit surprised. But Dad didn’t. Uncle Jeff arrived late on Friday night, and in the morning, when Jeremy looked out of the window he saw a red sports car parked in the drive next to Dad’s big blue estate car. A taxi came very early to pick up Mum and Dad and take them to the airport. Later, Jemima and Jeremy got up and made their own breakfast, but Jeremy didn’t eat his at the kitchen table like he was supposed to. Instead, still in his pyjamas, he took his toast and jam into the living room and switched on the television. “You know that Mum doesn’t let us watch TV on Saturday mornings,” said Jemima. “because they only show rubbish.” “Well Mum isn’t here. She’s enjoying a weekend of freedom fromus,” said Jeremy. “I bet Uncle Jeff will tick you off,” said Jemima. At about about ten o’clock, Uncle Jeff came into the living room just as an army of tanks was being destroyed by robots from the Planet Zeeton. “Bang! Pehow! Poook!” said Uncle Jeff, like a lot of guns and explosives going off. Jeremy looked up at him in amazement. Dad never said anything like that. “Scuse me kids,” said Uncle Jeff. “I need a cup of strong black coffee before I can face the world – Now where’s the kitchen? Oh, I’m your Uncle Jeff by the way,” and he disappeared down the corridor. A little later, he returned and asked, “Well what are we going to do today?” “Homework,” said Jemima. And Uncle Jeff said, “Bor-ing. What’s the world coming to? Don’t kids these days get up to any mischief?” “Let’s go and buy some computer games” suggested Jeremy. “Could do,” said Uncle Jeff thoughtfully. “But I had something a bit more outdoors in mind. Come on. Get dressed and I’ll take you on a surprise treat.” A little later, they all got into Dad’s estate car. Jeremy was supposed to be strapped into a child seat for safety, but he asked cheekily, “can I drive?” and Uncle Jeff said, “well alright, but only on the driveway.” Jemima protested that her little brother didn’t know how to drive a car, but Uncle Jeff said that it was never too early to learn, and he let Jeremy sit on his lap and hold the steering wheel. But just as Jeff was starting the engine, Jeremy moved the gear stick, and the car leapt forward with a great crunching noise. There was a burning smell and smoke started to come out of the bonnet. “Whoops, there goes the clutch,” said Uncle Jeff. “I don’t think Dennis is going to be too pleased. Perhaps we won’t mention this little incident to your dad. We’ll just let him think that your mother broke the car. Well, what shall we do now?” “Can we go in your sports car?” asked Jeremy. “Well, so long as I drive,” said Uncle Jeff. And they all got out and went over to Uncle Jeff’s car. It was rather cramped in the back seat, even for the children, and there certainly wasn’t room for Jeremy’s safety seat. He reversed out of the drive at quite a pace, and soon was roaring down their street so that all of their neighbours must have heard them. Then Uncle Jeff turned on some loud music and opened the sun roof. His style of driving was not at all like Dad’s. He zipped in and out of traffic and shot through lights just as they were turning from orange to red. Jemima thought he was an irresponsible driver, but she didn’t say anything because that wouldn’t be polite. Jeremy said, “can we go faster Uncle Jeff?” And Uncle Jeff put his foot on the pedal and they went even faster. He took them out of town, and down a dual carriageway into the countryside. Eventually he turned up to what looked like a farm track. A sign read: “Clay Pigeon Shooting.” When they stopped and got out of the car, Uncle Jeff opened up the little boot and took out a long leather pouch. Jeremy realised that there was a gun inside. “Oh, can I hold it?” he asked. And Uncle Jeff said “Maybe.” Clay Pigeons aren’t real pigeons, but disks that are shot out of a machine and fly through the air. If you are shooting you try to smash the disk. But it’s extremely difficult to hit a moving target, and requires lots of skill. Uncle Jeff made sure that Jeremy and Jemima were kitted out with ear protectors because gun-fire is really loud and can make you deaf. They also had to wear goggles in case a bit of clay flew into their eyes. They stood in a field and when Uncle Jeff called “pull” a clay pigeon flew out of a kind of bunker. Uncle Jeff smoothly followed the target with his gun and squeezed the trigger. There was a loud bang and the smell of gun powder in the air. He missed. But he called out “pull” again and another target flew through the air. This time he hit it and the clay smashed into pieces. “Can I have a go? Can I have a go?” begged Jeremy. And Uncle Jeff showed him how to hold the shotgun broken open at the middle so that it couldn’t go off by accident. And then he showed him how to hold it in firing position so that its kick wouldn’t hurt his shoulder. The shot gun was almost as big as Jeremy, but he thought that holding it was the coolest thing ever. “Pull” he shouted, and a pigeon flew through the air. He followed it and squeezed the trigger. The gun went “boom” and it jumped as if it had a life of its own. Jeremy missed by a mile. But he was very excited, and as soon as Uncle Jeff had loaded a new cartridge into the barrel, he called “pull” again and another pigeon flew through the air and he missed one more time. In fact, however many times he tried, Jeremy couldn’t hit the target. And then Jemima had a go. And do you know what? She was really good at shooting. She smashed the target about four or five times. Even Uncle Jeff was impressed. “Better than doing homework, eh?” he said as they squished back into his car. Jeremy and Jemima thanked their uncle for their treat. “It was really wicked,” said Jeremy. “Well it was fun,” said Jemima. “But I don’t think you should have taken us clay pigeon shooting without asking Mum first.” “How do you know I didn’t ask her?” said Uncle Jeff. “Because she would almost certainly have said “no” said Jemima. “And by the way, please drive more slowly and carefully. There are children in the back, you are the responsible adult.” Uncle Jeff slowed down and promised to drive carefully. And Jemima felt better because she realised that safety was even more important than being polite or worrying about causing offence. When they got back to town, Uncle Jeff took them to a Turkish Kebab restaurant for lunch, and Jeremy tried hot chilli sauce which burnt his mouth. He had to eat loads of ice cream afterwards to cool off. But when they got back to the house, Uncle Jeff searched in vain through his pockets for the front door key. And then he realized that he must have got it mixed up with his own from home. They were locked out. “It’s a pity. I think I’m too heavy to climb onto that roof” said Uncle Jeff. “But I can,” said Jeremy. And since there was no other way into the house, Uncle Jeff agreed to lift Jeremy up onto the roof of the porch. He started to scramble up towards the window. But when he got to it, he found that the window was stuck and he couldn’t get it open any more. But there was a higher window that was fully open, and Jeremy thought that he might be able to climb up to that one by getting up onto the garden wall. “Oh no” called out Uncle Jeff when he saw what Jeremy was trying to do. “That’s too dangerous”. But Jeremy didn’t listen. He was on the top of the garden wall and now he was trying to stretch across to the high window. But the stretch was too far and he didn’t make it. He fell down to the roof of the porch. The extension to the house hadn’t been made very well by the builders and Jeremy went straight through the roof of the sun room. He landed on top of Mum’s tomato plant. “Oh,” said Jeremy. “Oh dear,” said Jeff. “I don’t think Mum’s going to be pleased,” said Jemima. A nosy neighbour saw what had happened and called the police. He told them: “There’s a boy who’s just got in through the roof, and a man holding what can only be a gun. Then there’s a lass too. She looks really mean.” “What makes you say it’s a gun sir?” asked the policeman. “Well I was in the army for fifteen years and I think I know what a gun looks like,” said the neighbour. It wasn’t often that people with guns tried to break into houses in that area. In fact, Jeremy and Jemima lived on one of the sleepiest and most peaceful streets you could imagine. But the police officer who took the call decided to send an armed response unit just to be on the safe side. It took Jeremy a few minutes to get over the shock of falling through the roof. He wasn’t badly hurt, but he had cut and bruised himself and he had earth in his hair and looked quite a sight. The police car screeched up the drive just as he was letting Uncle Jeff and Jemima in through the front door. “Armed Police Officers, Freeze!”shouted the policeman. And Uncle Jeff said: “Don’t shoot. I’ve got a licence for this gun.” Uncle Jeff, Jemima and Jeremy spent the rest of the day at the police station. Jemima and Jeremy were allowed to sit in the waiting room with a policeman and a policewoman sitting on either side of them. They weren’t allowed to talk to each other. Uncle Jeff was taken down to the cells before being interviewed. He gave them his brother’s mobile phone number, but since Mum and Dad were in Paris on a romantic weekend, they had both turned their mobile phones off for the day. It was 10 O’Clock at night before they managed to persuade the police that they weren’t a gang of criminals and could go home. On Sunday, they all got up rather late. “Well what shall we do?” asked Uncle Jeff. “Homework” said Jemima. And Jeremy agreed that they both needed to do their homework. After that, Jemima asked Jeff if they could make a carrot cake, and they got one of Mum’s recipe books out and they all did the mixing and baking. The result wasn’t too bad. Then they went out and bought some flowers from the stall for Mum and Dad. Then they read books and went to bed at seven o’clock. “Well,” said Uncle Jeff to himself as he watched the football match on TV. “I think a Wicked Uncle has an important role to play in the upbringing of every child. They won’t forget this weekend in a hurry. I’ve set the kids a great example of how NOT to behave.” And he had. But funnily enough, Mum and Dad never asked him to look after the kids for the weekend again. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn36.txt b/text/sn36.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f81655724f254c1e9bcd4928f813bb1012b10174 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn36.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The first time we met Jeremy and Jemima’s wicked Uncle Jeff, we discovered that he was not so much “wicked” as “irresponsible.” Mum and Dad decided that it would be better if he did not look after the children again. But when Dad forgot to book a holiday, the family went to stay with Uncle Jeff in his house by the sea. A little oversight by Jeff led to the children getting into heaps of trouble – and their uncle getting into even more. Story by Bertie Read by Natasha. Duration 21.46. It was summer. Everyone was going away on holiday. Everyone, that is, except for Jeremy, Jemima and their parents. You see, Dad hadn’t booked a trip this year because he couldn’t decide where to go. Europe was so expensive. America was so far away. India was so hot. Oh dear. He couldn’t think of the perfect place that would be just right. School had already broken up for the long vacation. The kids were growing bored. Mum was becoming irritable. And Dad was still studying the travel pages of the newspapers. “Well there’s always England,” Mum said one Sunday morning in July. “England….” repeated Dad … as though he had never heard of the place, although he had lived there all his life. And then he added: “Doesn’t it always rain in England?” At this Mum lost her patience: “Well look out of the window. Does it seem like it’s raining to you?” she snapped. Because you see, it had been hot and sunny every day for a month. And Jeremy pleaded: “Dad we must go on holiday. We can’t stay in this dump all summer long.” And Jemima began to sing: “I do love to be beside the seaside. I do love to be beside the sea.” Dad shook his head and muttered that it was probably too late to go on holiday to the English seaside, because everywhere would be booked up by now. But Jeremy had an idea. “I know. Uncle Jeff’s got a holiday house by the sea. Let’s go and stay with Uncle Jeff. Can we please?” “Oh NO!”said Mum. “Not with Uncle Jeff.” And the thought of staying with his brother was enough to make Dad go upstairs to his study and scour the internet for holiday cottages by the sea. Unfortunately he was right. It was too late. Everything was booked up. On the first of August, the tyres of Dad’s big blue estate car crunched up the driveway of Uncle Jeff’s country house by the sea. “Wow” said Jeremy. “This isn’t a house. It’s a castle!” “Don’t be silly, Jeremy,” said Jemima. “In the old days big houses had turrets to look nice, not because they were real castles.” And although Uncle Jeff’s house wasn’t quite a castle, it was certainly large. His sports car was parked in front of the house. He kept a boat on a trailer in the garage and he had a few sheep to nibble the grass on the lawn. If you went round the back of the house, you could see the sea. And a rather noisy family of sea gulls was living in the turret that had so impressed Jeremy. As the family clambered out of the car, Jeremy asked : “Dad why is Uncle Jeff so much richer than you? And Dad looked cross and muttered something about ill-gotten gains. And by then, the “Wicked Uncle” himself was standing on the steps leading up to the front door and calling out: “Hello Gang!” The kids both waved and called back “Hello Uncle Jeff!”but Dad couldn’t have looked more annoyed if a sea gull had just pooped on his head. Uncle Jeff’s housekeeper showed the family to their rooms and then they all came down to the dining room for tea and scones. Mum asked: “Well kids, what do you want do this holiday?” and Jeremy and Jemima chorused “Go to the beach!” But Dad looked a bit fed up because he thought the beach was boring. “I’ll tell you what,” said Uncle Jeff. “I’ll take the kids to the beach so that Mum and Dad can have some time together. They can take a lovely walk along the cliffs to the next village where there’s a great old pub.” And although Dad thought that the walk along the cliffs to the old pub did sound rather nice, he said: “It’s alright Jeff. We’ll look after the kids.” Jeremy and Jemima loved everything to do with the beach. Digging sandcastles, eating ice cream, playing volleyball, diving into the waves, and snoozing in the sun. Mum and Dad both wore big floppy hats, put on sun cream, and read big fat paper back books. In the evenings they went into town and walked along the waterfront where they bought fish and chips. The town was an old port built on the mouth of a wide river leading out to sea. There was always something interesting to look at, as the water was always busy with yachts and fishing boats, and the car ferry sailing to and fro. On Thursday evening there was something rather different to look at. A sleek white yacht the size of a ship had pulled into port. It was so big that it made the other yachts look like toys. Everyone was impressed, and none less than Jeremy. “I bet its owner is even richer than Uncle Jeff,” he said. “Yes, I wonder who owns it,” said Mum. And later that evening, when they asked Uncle Jeff about the yacht, he promised to speak to his friend who knew all the gossip about the port. The routine of beach during the day and stroll during the evening continued, but when Dad had read to the end of his book, he began to think how nice it would be to take that walk along the cliffs to the pub. And when he mentioned the idea to Mum, even she said: “Yes it would be nice to have a break from the kids.” Dad pondered: “I don’t suppose they could come to any harm on the beach with Uncle Jeff.” And Mum agreed: “No I don’t suppose they could.” The next day they gave Uncle Jeff his instructions for looking after the kids. They must wear hats and sun lotion. They mustn’t swim too far out to sea. They mustn’t have more than one ice cream each. They mustn’t shriek and make too much noise. And Jeff said: “Right-oh. Got ya.” Which didn’t make Mum feel at all reassured. But Uncle Jeff did make sure that the kids wore hats and sun lotion. And he only them bought two ice creams each. And for a while, he did watch them while they were swimming. He even bought them a little inflatable boat, so that they could have some fun floating on it and jumping on and off into the waves. But the thing that made the day more interesting than other days on the beach was that the Russian yacht had moved. It was sitting anchored out at sea not that far away from the beach. When a helicopter took off from the deck, Jeff took out his binoculars and let Jeremy look through them. “Wow that’s amazing” said Jeremy. Uncle Jeff said that the owner of the ship was called Sergei Manovich and that he was one of the richest men in Russia – in fact he was richer than some countries. “Wow he must be really wicked,” said Jeremy. And Uncle Jeff agreed that he probably was. Uncle Jeff watched the kids play all morning, but in the afternoon he decided that it would probably be alright if he allowed himself a short nap. “After all, they are good kids really,” he said to himself. “And they can’t come to much harm on the beach.” Jeremy and Jemima were playing ‘Pirates’with the little boat. At first they didn’t go more than a few yards from the beach, but gradually the waves and their game took them a little further out. They were still among the swimmers and the wind surfers, but Jemima said: “Jeremy, I think we ought to go back in,” and they both leant over the boat and started to paddle with their hands. But instead of returning to the beach, the current pulled them further out. First Jemima and then Jeremy started to wave and call out “Uncle Jeff! Uncle Jeff!” but he was fast asleep and didn’t see or hear them. Soon they were really quite a long way out. “Oh no. I think we are in trouble,” said Jemima. And even Jeremy felt frightened. They were so far out now that they were closer to the Russian ship than the shore. Jemima could see a sailor on the deck as he leant against the side and watched the beach. She waved frantically to him and called “Help Help” and after a while the sailor waved back. “He thinks you’rejust saying hello” said Jeremy. But fortunately the sailor was smarter than that, because very soon after, the yacht started to lower a life raft down the side. “Thank goodness we’re saved” said Jemima. But when Jeremy and Jemima stood up in their little boat, it tipped over and both of them fell into the sea. A sailor dived off the life raft and swam over to help them. It was a bit of a struggle, but both children were hauled spluttering and shaking up onto the raft. One of the sailors said in a foreign accent: “Well kids. Would you like a ride back to the beach, or would you like to see on board our ship first?” Jemima said: “Back to the beach please.” But Jeremy said: “Oh can we see the ship? Please please can we see the ship?” Back on the beach, Uncle Jeff sat up slowly and scanned the shore for a sight of the children. He couldn’t see them anywhere, but he said to himself: “I expect they’ve gone to buy another ice cream.” Then he rummaged in his bag and took out his binoculars to have another look at the Russian yacht. He noticed a life boat being winched up the side. He focused in closer and saw two small children in the boat. “Funny. They look a bit like Jeremy and Jemima,” he said to himself. And then he noticed their little dingy capsized near by. “They are Jeremy and Jemima” he said. “Oh no. I’m going to be in a heap of trouble for this.” And he ran down to the sea and started to swim out towards the yacht as fast as he could. He was a powerful swimmer, and he soon reached the yacht. He started to climb up the anchor chain. This was no easy thing to do, but Jeff was no ordinary uncle. On board the ship, two young ladies wearing sun glasses, hats, and bikinis took charge of Jeremy and Jemima. They showed them the swimming pool, the gymnasium, the beauty salon, the cinema, and the helicopter pad. “It’s like a floating palace,” said Jeremy. And one of the women said, “Yes, it is exactly like a palace.” “Excuse me. Are you Russian?” asked Jemima. The lady whose name was Chiara laughed and said “No. I am from Italy and my friend Julia is from Brazil, but the owner is Russian and the crew are from Ukraine.” And at about that same time, at the other end of the ship, two Ukrainian sailors were amazed to find Uncle Jeff clambering on board from the top of the anchor chain. “Hi. I’m looking for my niece and nephew,” said Uncle Jeff, as he jumped onto the deck. But the sailors did not understand him. Instead, they tried to grab hold of him. “Oi. That’s not a nice welcome,” said Uncle Jeff and threw a punch at one of the sailors. This was a rather silly thing to do. The second sailor hit him over the head with something heavy and Uncle Jeff fell unconscious on the deck. The sailors dragged him down into the hold and locked him inside a sea container. Jeremy and Jemima were sitting by the swimming pool and sipping milk shakes. “I think we should go back to the beach now if you don’t mind,” said Jemima. “Our Uncle Jeff will be worried about us.” And Chiara said, “Yes I will go and ask the sailors who rescued you,” and she went off to look for them. Up in the bridge of the ship, the two sailors who had found Uncle Jeff reported to the captain. “So we have a British spy,”said the captain. “We shall put him out to sea and get rid of him before the boss gets back.” Soon after that, Jeremy and Jemima noticed that the ship was starting to move. Jemima ran up to a sailor and said “You can’t go out to sea. You’ve got to take us back to the beach first.” But the sailor didn’t understand what she was saying, and besides, he was busy. Jeremy ran off to look for Chiara and Julia, but he couldn’t find them anywhere. Eventually he bumped into Jemima who was also looking for help. “Oh no,” she said. “I think we’ve been kidnapped. “Perhaps they are going to take us to Russia,” Jeremy said sadly. But the ship did not go very far out to sea before it stopped and weighed anchor again. A group of sailors gathered on the deck and two of them held a long piece of wood. They started to tie it to the railing so that it stuck out over the edge of the boat. It was a bridge to nowhere. When Jeremy saw this, he grew very frightened. “Do you know what?” he said. “They are pirates. And I think they are going to make us walk the plank.” “Don’t be so silly,” said Jemima. “Why would they want do do that?” But Jeremy whispered, “Hide!” and both of them slipped inside the door to the beauty salon. Ten minutes later Jeremy cautiously looked out of the porthole to see what was going on. He saw that two sailors were gripping a man by his arms. His hands were tied behind his back. They were dragging him towards the plank. “Jemima. Come and see this,” said Jeremy. “They’ve got a prisoner and they are going to make him walk the plank.” “Oh stop being stupid,” said Jemima, but she was curious enough to come and take a look through the porthole. “Oh my goodness me!” she said. “That’s Uncle Jeff!” And both the children rushed out onto the deck. “Stop! Stop!” cried Jemima. And Jeremy ran up to Uncle Jeff and threw his arms out to hug his legs. “Kids, am I glad to see you!”said Uncle Jeff. “You won’t believe this. These guys were about to make me walk the plank.” The sailors seemed confused and one of them went to talk to the captain. A little later the helicopter landed on the ship and, Sergei Manovich, the Russian owner, climbed out, bowing his head under the rotor blades. Chiara and Julia were up on the helipad to meet him with kisses and hugs. They pointed to Jeff and the children, and he gave them a friendly wave. A little later, the children were splashing in the pool. Uncle Jeff was chatting to Sergei while Julia and Chiara sunned themselves. Towards evening, a life boat took the visitors back to the shore. As they drove back to the house, Uncle Jeff said: “I don’t think we need to tell Mum and Dad about this little adventure, do you?” And Jemima said: “No. And we won’t tell them that you bought us two ice creams either.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn37.txt b/text/sn37.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..01b4a8ddfaa74efca197192a44166ff2e0175124 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn37.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This is a story about luck, or chance or fate. Some people believe that everything that happens is set in the stars at the dawn of time and some people believe everything happens chaotically and at random, and other people believe that we are totally in charge of our own fate. And most of us, well we’re not quite sure what to believe. Perhaps this story will help you make up your mind. Re-introducing Wicked Uncle Jeff (who is not so wicked at all) and the family of Mum, Dad, Jeremy and Jemima. Story by Bertie Read by Natasha. Duration 20.40. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth “Oh dear. Sometimes it seems like the only things that ever happen in the world are wars, disasters, and celebrity divorces. And the weather forecast isn’t much better…..” But one article caught her eye. She couldn’t miss it really, because there was a photograph of Dad’s brother, Jeff, whom the family liked to called The Wicked Uncle because he was totally irresponsible. He never had a proper job, or settled down with a family, and yet he owned several houses and even more cars, boats and motorcycles. In the picture, he was smartly dressed for the horse races known as Royal Ascot, and at his side was his latest girl-friend, tall, blonde and beautiful, and wearing a ludicrous pink hat. The article said that he was sharing a box at the races with a Russian tycoon whom he had met by chance on a yacht. Mum sighed. “Some people have all the luck. Jeff seems to live a charmed life… why can’t we share just a little bit of his good fortune? I know. I’ll see what my horoscope says… it’s always fun to know in advance what sort of a day you’re going to have.” Mum’s star sign was Libra, which was supposed to mean she was very fair and even-minded. In fact, Mum thought that her star sign gave a very accurate picture of her character. The stars seemed to describe all her family. Dad was a Taurus, which meant that he was stubborn, and that was certainly true, And Jeremy was Leo the lion, which meant that he was cut out to be a great leader, and Jemima was Aquarius, the water sign, which explained why she was so good at swimming. The truth was that really she believed in horoscopes. So as soon as she had finished reading today’s, she immediately wished that she hadn’t. It said: “The best thing you could do today, is to stay in bed. All the stars and planets are opposed to you. Mars is waging war on you, Sagittarius the archer’s firing her arrows at you, Venus has deserted you, and Taurus the bull is charging you with its horns. Quite frankly, even staying in bed isn’t a fully safe option. Better hide UNDER the bed and stay there until after the weekend.” Mum stood up crossly and tossed the newspaper in the pedal bin. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t hide under the bed. There isn’t room!… “ she exclaimed “Oh my stars! What a day this is shaping up to be. But I’ll just have to struggle on and cook those nibbles even if all the forces of the Universe are working against me.” And all day Mum was very careful not to cut herself with a kitchen knife, not to drop a weight on her foot, and not to leave the kitchen whilst anything was cooking in case a fire started. But even so, everything seemed ten times more difficult than usual. She ran out of caster sugar, she burnt her quiche, and she put too much mustard powder in the french dressing. And then, to top it all, she tripped over Rudy – he was the cat – and dropped her egg whites all over the floor. Rudy started to lick up the goo. “A black cat,” thought Mum. “Get out of here you,” she screamed. “You’re nothing but Bad Luck!” While Mum was bravely overcoming every obstacle that cruel fate threw in her way, Dad was also having one of those days. He was stuck in the mother of all traffic jams. There had been an accident on the flyover, and the police were investigating. They were painstakingly picking up every fragment of glass, labelling it, and putting each one into its own separate plastic bag. And to make matters worse, Dad was desperate to go to the loo. As he sat at his wheel fuming and sweating, he called the office to give them an update. A policeman tapped on his window. “Excuse me sir, don’t you know there’s a law against using your mobile phone whilst driving? And by the way while we are about it, your front wheel is on the yellow grid. You can’t stop here. You’re blocking the traffic. That will be two fines in one.” And Dad had to get out of the car, show his driving licence, and answer all sorts of questions while four policemen examined his tyres and searched his boot for lethal weapons. It was half-past one before Dad arrived at work. “That makes sense,” he thought as he turned on his computer. “It’s Friday the 13th. I should have called in sick.” But Friday the 13th, which is supposed to be an unlucky day, had been just fine for Jeremy and Jemima at school. Jemima had a swimming lesson – which she loved – and Jeremy was just glad because it was the end of the week, and on Saturday he would be playing football. When they got home though, they found that Mum was frantically searching for her car keys. “I’m having a bit of a day,” she said, sounding like she was having a nervous breakdown. Jemima knew it would be best to stay out of Mum’s way. Even Rudy was hiding in the coat cupboard. But Jeremy asked: “Have you looked in the kitchen drawer?” “Of course I have. Do you think I’m stupid or what?” snapped back Mum. But Jeremy opened the drawer, which was where they usually kept the keys, and lo and behold, that was where they were. Mum mumbled thanks and grabbed some trays to take out and load into the car. “Don’t just stand there, help me” she yelled at the kids. “And mind you don’t drop anything. That would be all I need right now!” Ten minutes later, Mum was gone, and Jeremy went up to his room to program his website while Jemima went to tell Rudy that it was safe to come out of the cupboard now. Then Jemima went upstairs to put the finishing touches to her school project all about Queen Cleopatra of Egypt. When Mum got home she kicked off her shoes, put her feet on the sofa and said: “What a day. Thank goodness it’s over!” But it wasn’t. Ten minutes later the phone rang, and an angry voice asked where the food was for the party. “But I just delivered it,” protested Mum. “Not to here you didn’t,” exclaimed the voice. And after quite a bit of arguing, Mum realised that she must have delivered the food to the wrong office. Some greedy office workers had accepted her snacks and were now celebrating the end of the week with a free feast! While the real party was going on without any food. Mum had wasted her time and money, and at the end of it all, she had lost a customer. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Dad arrived home looking totally fed up. He had left the office early because he was feeling ill, but on the way back, smoke started rising from the bonnet of his car. The breakdown van towed it away to the garage, and he came home by bus. “I don’t think I can keep on at this job,” he said. “Ever since the office moved, I spend all my time getting there and back.” And to top it all, Rudy the cat was sick; Not just sick but had diarrhoea - and not in any old place, like out in the garden or on the kitchen floor but in Jemima’s bedroom, and not just in Jemima’s bedroom, but all over her project on Queen Cleopatra. There was a terrible scream from the top of the house “Oh my goodness, what’s happened?”exclaimed Mum. And then it was followed by a long heart-felt wail….. “My Project !!!!!!!!” Poor Jemima. She had worked so hard on her project. And now she was going to have to spend the whole weekend doing it all again. And she would have to miss her ballet class on Saturday and her swimming lesson on Sunday. But at least Jeremy was OK. Nothing had happened to him. He was happily working on his computer until way too late. When Mum came to wish Jemima goodnight, she was sitting on her bed hugging a big bear that she had loved when she was little and looking very sad. “Mum,” she asked. “Do you think our family’s cursed? I mean, we always seem to have bad luck.” “Don’t be silly,” said Mum. “We just had a bad day. There’s no such thing as a curse or bad luck. Things just happen sometimes, that’s all.” But Mum didn’t sound at all convincing. You see, she did believe in bad luck. And in the morning, when Dad slipped on some sick the cat had made in the night, and landed in a heap on the kitchen floor, she couldn’t hide her true feelings any more. “Listen kids,” she said as she helped a badly shaken Dad up to his feet, “I know this sounds a bit spooky, but we had all better be extra careful this weekend. My horoscope says that lots of bad things are going to happen, and judging by the last 24 hours, it’s coming all too true.” And that really scared Jemima. “Mum, do you think like, anything really really bad could happen? Like, could we die?” And Jeremy thought that was absolutely hilarious. He was still laughing about it as Dad drove him to the soccer fields. He was the goal keeper and he knew that saving the ball required loads of skill and just a few drops of good luck. Fortunately his luck seemed to be in. The other side had some great shots at goal, but Jeremy leapt, stretched and dived and kept the ball from crossing the line. The score was nil – nil until, ten minutes before the final whistle, his team’s defender tripped up the other side’s striker. The referee blew his whistle and pointed to the penalty spot. The centre forward was about to take the penalty. He placed the ball on the spot and considered the goal. Jeremy reckoned that he was eying up the top left corner of the posts. His opponent ran up and struck the ball cleanly with his boot. Jeremy sprang through the air like a ballet dancer and just reached the ball with his little finger. As he landed on the muddy ground he knew that he was the hero of the match, but oh, his little finger was hurting. The ball had bent it back. An hour later the phone rang at home. Jemima picked it up, before calling out: “Mum…. it’s the hospital, Jeremy’s in Accident and Emergency.” Mum prepared herself for the worst. She picked up the phone as bravely as she could and she had to ask the nurse to repeat what had happened three times before she understood that her son had probably broken his little finger, that his football trainer had to leave, and that somebody should come wait with Jeremy until he had an xray. “Yes, I’ll come right away,” said Mum. She went to the drawer to look for her keys, but they weren’t there. “Don’t you remember?” said Jemima. “Dad’s car is broken-down, so he took yours to his golf match…. .but do you know what? Uncle Jeff lives not far from the hospital, maybe he could go and wait with Jeremy.” “Oh I expect he’s away on one of his exotic holidays,” said Mum. “You know Uncle Jeff, he spends his weekends scuba diving or trekking in the Himalayas.” But in fact Uncle Jeff was having a quiet weekend at home for once, and when Mum called, he said he would be only too pleased to help out, and besides, it would be an opportunity to catch up with his nephew and have a good chat while they waited. And by the time Uncle Jeff got to the hospital, Jeremy had already had his xray, and a splint was holding together two fingers on his left hand. “Good job your trigger finger’s still in tact,” said Uncle Jeff. “Come on, let’s go clay pigeon shooting. I reckon we’ve safely got two hours while your Mum thinks you’re still waiting at the hospital.” “Wow!” said Jeremy. “You bet!” But back at home, Jemima and Mum had yet more anxiety. Rudy was still sick and didn’t want to come out of the coat cupboard. They both wished that they had taken him to the vet that morning – but now it was Saturday afternoon, and they would have to wait until Monday. “This has to be the most unlucky weekend any family ever had” said Jemima. But Jeremy came back looking pleased with himself. After all, he was the hero of the match, and though he didn’t let on to Mum about it, he had a great time clay pigeon shooting. When uncle Jeff heard about Rudy he said: “Don’t worry. I know a woman who can do wonders for any cat. She has healing hands.” And although Mum didn’t have much faith in Uncle Jeff’s cat-healing friend, she was willing to give anything a try. So Jeff took poor Rudy off in his basket and Jemima went with him. They returned later with a very well and satisfied looking cat. “That’s a miracle. What did she do?” asked Mum. And Jemima explained: “She said that he was suffering from stress and all he needed to do was to chill out. So she gave him a massage for an hour, and he was purring away in cat-heaven – and look – now he’s completely better.” “Well, well,”said Mum. “Jeff seems to have an easy answer to every problem.” Mum asked Uncle Jeff to stay for supper and he said that he would be delighted to eat some proper home cooking. She made her special cottage pie with steamed vegetables that she had grown in the garden and while they were eating, Jemima asked: “Uncle Jeff. Why are you so much luckier than we are? I mean, like, you’re Dad’s brother. But everything always seems to turn our right for you, and Dad, well, he just doesn’t seem to have any luck at all.” Dad gave his daughter an annoyed stare, but he couldn’t protest as his mouth was full of cottage pie. Jeff saw this and smiled affectionately at his brother. “Well first of all, I don’t think I’m luckier than your Dad. Not one bit. He has a beautiful family, and I just have strings of girl-friends. In many ways, I’m quite envious of his steady life. And secondly, luck is just all about how you see things. Everything that’s happened to you this weekend could be seen as bad luck, but if you look at it differently, it could also be seen as good luck.” “Good luck?” exclaimed Mum. “What’s been good about anything that’s happened yesterday or today?” “Well lots of things,” said Jeff. “For instance, you delivered your party snacks to the wrong address. You lost a customer, but I’m willing to bet that the other office were very impressed by your delicious cooking. And probably they are feeling just a bit guilty about eating your food for free. So I see that as an opportunity. They are your next customer, and perhaps they will be a bigger and better customer.” “And Dad’s having trouble getting to work since his office moved. So why doesn’t he suggest to them that he works from home? Anyone can work from home these days, and it’s a much better lifestyle.” “What? Have him at home all day? I’m not so sure about that idea,” said Mum. But Jeff went on. And as for Jemima. Yes, her project was ruined, but that gave her a chance to do it again, and do it even better. And even Rudy being sick was good luck for him, because he scored an enjoyable cat massage. As for Jeremy, yes he broke his finger, but he saved the match, and breaking his finger to do it made him even more of a hero in the eyes of his mates. And finally all this has been a wonderful opportunity for a family get-together – which is something we don’t do often enough.” “So actually Jemima,”said Uncle Jeff, “I don’t especially have any good luck. In fact, I’m always getting into all sorts of trouble and scrapes. You lead a much more steady life, and in some ways, I’m quite envious of you. But I believe that the whole trick is not to see our little problems as bad luck, but to see them as opportunities.” And although Mum didn’t entirely see things the way Uncle Jeff did, she now understood the secret of how he seemed to be always followed around by good luck. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn38.txt b/text/sn38.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9bb205162c918f1329afc5135a5e99d0cfbbb74e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn38.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +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. 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 who 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. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. 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 trolley around 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 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 got 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 pyjamas 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. They 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 blonde lady who was holding up a sign that said: “HOLIDAYS IN SPACE.” A car picked them up outside the 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 your 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 a 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 squished 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 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 learnt to operate the space toilet, which was a cross between a seat and a vacuum cleaner and had lots of different coloured 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 comfortable. 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 travelling at different speeds in different directions. He wished he had not eaten pancakes and honey for breakfast. “STOP!”he shouted. He span round a few dozen more times, but now more and more 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 a 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 you do in space. At the end of their training, Timor presented each member of the family with a certificate that said: 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 grey 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 dreamt 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 the 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 spaceship, 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 woolly vests and long johns, because it’s cold in space. And underneath those, they wore special diapers or nappies for space travellers 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 ladder to the door of the space craft, and the family followed. Jemima was last up, and she turned and waved to the television cameras and gave them a happy smile. Inside, 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 travelling at five miles a second straight up. They all felt their stomachs go heave-ho. “I’m not going to be sick. I’mnot 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 grey 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 dreamt of for her holiday. “I think,”said Mum, “that a baby must feel like this inside 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 this experience 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 Claus 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 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 they 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 “a quick snoop at the 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 to 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 mousse, 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 cancelling one after the other. The company was in danger of going bankrupt. And if that happened, the Crusoe Family might be stuck in space FOREVER!” ”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 you’re 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 descent to the desert of Kazakhstan took just thirty minutes, but the inside of the shuttle was as hot as a 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 wasn’ttrue 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. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn39.txt b/text/sn39.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..02d84b54c4f22334d2e43762f8144d6e89056f5d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn39.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Stand by for lots of fun when Jeff is out-Jeffed. How to Out-Jeff Uncle Jeff - Hello, This is Natasha, and I’m here with a story about somebody we haven’t heard from in a while. Whenever he turns up, he’s really popular on Storynory. He is known as the Wicked Uncle. He isn’t really that wicked - but his relations see him as being the irresponsible member of the family. The kids of course love him. His name is Uncle Jeff.', "There was a new family film out called The Doogles. When I say 'new' I don't exactly mean that the idea was new because The Doogles had been on TV back in the Dark Ages when Dad was a kid. It was his favourite programme and when it was on TV he fought with his younger brother Jeff who wanted to watch The Flowerpot Men on the other channel.", "Jeremy and Jemima had no desire to go and see the revived, revamped and resurrected Doogles at the cinema even if it was in 3D and the review in the Daily Telegraph had given it 4 stars for 'rip-roarious family entertainment'.", 'Dad was still sulking when Uncle Jeff rang and said: "How about Jessica and I take the kids to see The Doogles?" And the children jumped up and down saying: "Yeah! Lets go to the movies with Uncle Jeff and his new girlfriend!"', "Even Mum thought it was a good idea because she had warmed to Jessica when they had met. She seemed different from all the other women who had held the title of 'Jeff's latest girlfriend'. She had lasted more than six weeks which was quite possibly a record. She had brains and a career - in fact she was a junior doctor at the hospital and would soon graduate to being a surgeon. And unlike all the others, she wore sensible shoes, which in Mum's book made her marriage material. The only thing wrong with her was that her name began with J and there were already far too many J's in the family.", '"Yes," thought Mum. "Let Jeff and Jessica take Jeremy and Jemima out and see what it feels like being a family. Perhaps they will get in the habit and soon we shall be hearing wedding bells." It was always exciting when Uncle Jeff came round. The kids were keen to see which of his flashy motors he would arrive in. Would it be the vintage Porsche or the new one? Or perhaps the pink Lamborghini or maybe the white Rolls Royce?', "But it wasn't any of those. It was something they had not seen before.", '"Oh cool!" exclaimed Jeremy. "What\'s that?" asked Mum as they stood at the window and watched Jeff\'s wheelscrunch up the drive. "That is a muscle car," said Jeremy with satisfaction. It was bright red with a white streak down the side and a huge bonnet. "There aren\'t many of them in this country." This remark seemed confirmed by the fact that Jeff was sitting behind the steering wheel on the left hand side which meant the car had been imported from one of those places where people drive on the wrong side of the road. \'\'I\'m not surprised they don\'t sell well here," said Dad who drove the world\'s most boring car - one so totally sensible that Jeremy and Jemima preferred to take the bus to school rather than risk being seen in it. Jessica swung her legs out of the muscle car and set her little dog on the ground. "Go on Smoochies," she said, "better now than later." He ran off into a flower bed to do his business. Dad scowled.', "It wasn't long before Jeremy and Jemima were seated in the back and Jeff was pulling out of the drive in first gear. There was a loud crunch and a sudden bump.", '"Did we go over a pothole?" asked Jeff. But he knew that was impossible because his brother\'s drive was as immaculate as a cricket pitch. He got out to take a look and - wow - he had never seen anything like it. The front left wheel had simply fallen off. A big cylinder was lying next to it on the ground. "I think the axle has snapped," he said scratching his head. Everyone got out and Dad came over trying not to look satisfied and not succeeding. "Looks like your car pulled a muscle Jeff," he said smugly. "We\'ll be late for the cinema," said Jemima sadly. "You could go in my car," offered Dad. "Thanks, I think that\'s the only option," agreed Jeff. "But if you don\'t mind," added Dad, "I\'d prefer it if Jessica drives, because statistically speaking, women have fewer accidents than men." "Sure thing," said Jeff without batting an eyelid, and Dad tossed the keys to his brother’s girlfriend. Jessica drove into town and pulled up just outside the cinema. "Are you allowed to park here?" asked Jeremy looking at the thick yellow line painted along side the curb. "Sure, it\'s Saturday afternoon," said Jessica. Before they went up the steps of the cinema, she tucked Smoochies inside her coat. If anyone had noticed, they might have thought she was cradling a baby inside there. Jeff headed for the ticket seller, but his girlfriend turned to the kids and said: "Quick, follow me." And she darted into the the tunnel that led to the giant cinema screens. She beckoned for the kids to follow her. Nobody was on duty checking the tickets. Jessica grabbed a giant bag of chocolate covered nuts and raisins off a trolley. The kids followed her and Jeff had little option but to come after. She marched steadily towards the door to the screen. When Jeff caught up with her he said: "Er, Jess, what are you doing? I haven\'t paid yet." "It\'s much more fun to sneak in," she said. "Didn\'t you do it when you were a kid?" For the first time ever, the children saw Jeff look slightly less than completely cool. In fact, he distinctly blushed. He said in a hushed voice: "This is going too far. I really can\'t afford to do anything dishonest. My reputation in business is at stake." "What.. for slipping into the movies? It\'s not like you to be such an old stick-in-the-mud," replied his girlfriend. Which film shall we see? How about this one?" The poster depicted three men with muscles, chains, knives, guns, and sabers under the title: "Friday Night Massacre." "Er no," said Jeff. "We\'ve brought my niece and nephew to see The Doogles." They watched the Doogles for free and ate the stolen chocolate nuts, but even in the dark, Jemima could sense that Jeff was distinctly uncomfortable. He nobly suffered Smoochie licking his face throughout the film, but he more or less ignored Jessica. Jemima knew what he would say when the film was finished: "Whatever you do, please don\'t tell your Mum and Dad." "What? Do we look like we\'re that stupid?" said Jeremy. "And don\'t follow this example," said Jeff. "Jessica is a very naughty girl." As they left the warm close air of the cinema and stepped out into the cold, they all noticed something that meant trouble. Dad\'s boring car was wearing a big yellow boot. Notices had been plastered to the side window and the windscreen saying: "Do not attempt to move this car. It has been immobilized by parking services." Jessica said: "There’s this film I saw on YouTube. A woman in America had one of those nasty things, and she just drove off. The wheel clamp snapped and she was entirely free. Everyone in the cark park cheered their heads off." "Don\'t even think about it," said Jeff. He took out his mobile phone. Parking Services would take at least an hour to return and unlock the car and he would have to pay a fine of £350. "That\'s quite an expensive trip to the cinema," he mumbled.', "Fortunately, Jeff's club was not far away. It was one of a row of posh stone buildings with flag poles sticking out of them. All of them were gentlemen's clubs; though these days they admitted ladies too. He walked the kids and Jessica over there and signed them in. Jeremy had to borrow a tie from the club because there was a smart dress code. Jessica had to hide Smoochie inside her handbag because dogs were totally against the rules. They sat down in the library and Jeff asked the waiter to charge any snacks and drinks they might order to his account. He went back to wait by the car for the parking mafia.", "The only sounds inside the library of the club were the ticking of a grandfather clock and the snoring of an old man. The sleeper had a copy of The Times over his face. The kids drank cola and fizzy orange which they weren't allowed at home. Jessica let Smoochie drink sweet tea out of a saucer, and then drummed her long painted nails on the leather arm of the chair. She was thinking. Eventually she said:", '"You know, although I\'ve reached the grand age of 27, I don\'t feel that I will ever be too old to play Hide and Seek inside a stuffy old club." "Alright," said Jeremy, "give us twenty."', "He hid behind the heavy curtains by the window while his sister dived behind an armchair in the corner. Jessica took about two minutes to find both of them. Now it was Jeremy's turn to seek. After he opened his eyes he searched in every corner of the library including underneath the chair of the slumbering old boy. He realised that Jessica and Jemima must have left the room.", 'He went to look for them in the cloakroom and then in the restaurant. "Can I help you?" asked the head waiter. "Have you seen a woman and a girl hiding in here?" asked Jeremy. The waiter looked thoughtful and said: "We don\'t get a lot of ladies hiding in here. What do they look like?" "The woman is kind of pretty - or my Uncle Jeff thinks so because she\'s his latest girlfriend - and the girl - well she\'s my sister and she can\'t help looking like the way she does." "If I see any ladies fitting that description I will let them know you are looking for them." "They will probably be behind or underneath something," said Jeremy, "because we are playing hide and seek until our car is unclamped." "I will bear that in mind," said the waiter. Jeremy went back to the library where he found Jeff waiting in a chair. "The car\'s free but where have the girls got to?" said his uncle. "I dunno", said Jeremy. "They\'re hiding." "Typical,"\' said Jeff, a little annoyed. He got up and they restarted the search. This time, when they met the head waiter, he said: "Did you see the ladies? They are on their way back to the library." "Where were they?" asked Jeremy. "I found them in a broom cupboard, Sir," said the waiter. "I believe they were hiding inside it and locked themselves in." "Oh dear," said Jeff. "Most unfortunate." Jeremy thought he looked pretty tense and annoyed - almost like Dad would have done. On the way out Jessica and the kids were sniggering: "What\'s so funny now?" asked Jeff. "Well you see," said Jessica, "when we were stuck in that cupboard, Smoochie peed on the floor and the waiter probably thinks it was one of us." "What!" exclaimed Jeff. "You\'ll get me thrown out of the club." "Well it doesn\'t suit you anyway," said Jessica. "It\'s boring and stuffy and they don\'t like dogs." Smoochie growled at the doorman on the way out and Jeff said: "Excuse me, spot of tummy rot."', "At least they could now head back home. Jeff's phone already showed three missed calls from Mum, presumably worrying about their whereabouts. They got back into Dad's car and Jessica drove off. When they reached the bypass she put her foot down and they hit 90 mph.", '"Phew steady on," said Jeff. She sped around the big roundabout with only one finger on the steering wheel and CRRRUNCH! They slammed into the back of a white van. It was a very good thing they were all wearing seat belts apart from Smoochie who was thrown out of an open window and landed in a hedge. He was shaken but no bones broken. Jessica jumped out of the car and shouted at the van driver: "What do you think you were doing parking in the middle of a roundabout?" "Er.. waiting at a red light," explained the bemused driver. They inspected the damage. The van had a big dent in the back but could still be driven. Dad\'s car was much worse off. Bits of it were all over the road and the front looked like a concertina. Jeff sighed: "I had better call the insurance company," he said.', "It was a long wait for the breakdown assistance to arrive but it was almost worth it to see what was left of Dad's boring old car lifted onto the back of a lorry.", '"Any chance of a lift?" asked Jeff. "Sure mate," said the lorry driver. At quarter past eleven an anxious Mum and Dad heard the sound of a big engine turning over in front of the house. A beacon light was flashing. They looked out of the window and saw two children, two adults and a small dog clamber down from the cab of the lorry. "Are those my kids?" asked Mum. "Hitching a lift home from the cinema in a lorry?" "They are indeed," sighed Dad. "And there is my brother and his girlfriend. And that is, or was, my car on the back of the truck." For the first time it struck Mum that her children had been in mortal danger: “My babies! They could have died!” she exclaimed. Dad was more concerned about his car. There was nothing boring about it now. After an afternoon in the hands of Jessica and Jeff it looked like a casualty in a drag race. In fact, it looked like the scrap metal merchant would be the only person who would want it now. And for once Uncle Jeff could feel that it was rather unfair that his name was linked to yet another disaster, because he had done nothing wrong, while his own girlfriend had out-jeffed him. “Perhaps she will soon be just another name in his address book,” thought Mum, putting aside her dream of a posh wedding and some nephews and nieces. And Jeff was thinking: “I can hardly sack a girl for not being boring enough,”... but then, perhaps he was getting old. He didn’t like that feeling at all. Is Uncle Jeff finally settling down? We shall have to wait and see. And if you enjoy our free stories on Storynory.com, please consider leaving us a small donation, as every penny helps in the world of Free! We have a nice PayPal button on the front page of Storynory.com, and we really are grateful to everyone who helps us. You can also like us on facebook, follow us on Twitter and Google Plus, and subscribe to our podcast in iTunes. Anything you can do to share Storynory with your friends and followers is a great help to us. Thank you for all your support! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn4.txt b/text/sn4.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..37762f92bc5ffbb9f7336bf088989d4dea3e186c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn4.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +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 thief is before things go too far. But just once, she took it to school to show 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. “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 was allowed back inside to continue with 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 the day. “The Fire Drill!” she said out loud 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 herself: “I’ll just have to be a detective and discover who took it!” The next 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: “All right. 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 for 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 Disneyland. 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 Disneyland, 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 Disneyland 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 white board, the glove started to walk across the table on two fingers. When he turned round it flopped down again. The whole class started laughing, and Mr Cotton 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 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: 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 head teacher 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 not know whether or not to believe her pleas. 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 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 which 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 test, Mrs Hepworth collected all the papers and made everyone read quietly while she did the marking. When the lesson was over, Isis asked: “Please Mrs Hepworth. Did anyone pass 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 head teacher 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 learnt 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. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn40.txt b/text/sn40.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c3caf445a1914a305d6e5307d061c3ec72d13551 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn40.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Owing to a bit of disorganisation, Bertie slept through Halloween this year, despite all ghostly moans and growns, and the fireworks going off everywhere. And so this year’s spooky story comes about a month late. I told him not to worry, because people always appreciate a chilly scare, whatever the time of year. The date of her birth caused an annual diary clash for the family. Dad liked to take mum out to a restaurant for her birthday, but the kids were excited about Halloween and wanted to dress up and go trick or treating. This year, Uncle Jeff and his girlfriend Jessica came to the rescue and offered to take the kids away for Halloween weekend. Jeff said the best place to celebrate the spookiest time of year was in the countryside, because far away from the city lights, you can see the moon and the stars, and you feel much closer to the ancient spirit of the universe. Jessica said that Jeff was talking nonsense, but she always enjoyed long walks in the fresh air with her little dog, Smoochies. It was a long drive. Both the kids were playing with their tablets, but Jeremy had forgotten to charge his overnight, and it did not last beyond Junction 6 on the motorway. “Let me help you with that game,” he said to Jemima, and he grabbed her tablet. A tug of war started on the back seat. “Hey you two, behave!” said Jessica turning round from the passenger seat. And then, hoping to distract the siblings from fighting, she added: “Let’s see who can tell the spookiest story. You first Jeremy.. see if you can make me really frightened through the power of words.” “Well let me see,” said Jeremy. “We have a teacher at school who is a vampire and everyone is frightened of him because he comes up behind your chair in geography and sucks your blood.” “Ooh, that’s scary,” exclaimed Jessica. “He’s not really a vampire,” said Jemima. “He just has pointy teeth.” “Exactly, like vampires do.” said Jeremy. “Let’s see if you can come up with a scary story.. or not. Ooh I’m so frightened already, and you haven’t even said a word.” “Well my friend’s house is haunted,” said Jemima. “She lives near the town castle that used to be a prison. There’s a secret tunnel that goes all the way from one of the cells into the cellar of her house, and the ghosts of the prisoners come along it and make spooky noises in her bedroom.” “The sounds are just the wind in the oak tree,” said Jeremy. “Well I think that story is scary,” said Jessica. “Mine’s more of a riddle. Why couldn’t Dracula get to sleep?” “Because he was busy biting people?” suggested Jeremy. “Well maybe that too, but the answer is because of his coffin. Like coughing - coffin, get it?” But the children were not amused. It was Uncle Jeff’s turn. He spoke as he sped steadily down the fast lane at 90 miles per hour. “I heard this true story when I was in Australia earlier in the year. A couple were going across the outback when the satnav told them to turn off the road down a rough track. They thought it was a bit strange, but they obeyed the instructions. They drove on and on, and just as it was getting dark they reached an old deserted house. The satnav said: “You have reached your destination,” and then it gave a wicked sort of laugh before adding: “Enjoy your stay in the haunted homestead.’ “When they tried to turn the car around, it wouldn’t move. They were way too frightened to go into the house and so they spent the night in the car. All sorts of ghosts and ghouls floated up to peer at them through the windows, and they heard dreadful moans and screams coming from the house. In the morning, the car started just as normal, and they sped back the way they had come and found their way to the farm where their friends lived. Their friends told them about the ghost that haunts satnavs and regularly leads people to the homestead where 100 years ago a dreadful murder took place. The company that makes the satnav is completely baffled by this and the only explanation is that it is supernatural.” “Oh that’s creepy,” said Jeremy. “Yes, Jeff wins the prize for the spookiest story,” agreed Jessica. “Can satnavs really be haunted?” asked Jemima. “Naaa,” said Jeff. “There’s no such thing as the supernatural. People are afraid of getting lost in the dark, and their imaginations play all sorts of tricks.” And so they continued their journey to Somerset. A long jam on the motorway past Bristol held them up, and it was already dark by the time they were anywhere near their destination. Jeff turned on his satnav because he didn’t know this part of the world. He programmed in the name of a village. It was called Huish Cottonbois. Soon they were travelling down country lanes with high hedges on either side. “In 50 meters, at the junction, go straight head,” said the sat navf. “Thanks Emily,” replied Jeff. “Who’s Emily?” asked Jeremy. “He calls the satnav Emily after his first girlfriend,” said Jessica. “I trust I won’t end up inside a piece of electrical equipment one day.” After they crossed the junction, they started to climb a hill. Before too long, first mist, and then fog, cloaked the road ahead. Jeff slowed down the car. It was hard to see much further than the end of the bonnet. “I’m scared,” said Jemima. “Don’t worry, Jeff’s a very good driver,” said Jessica. “I know,” said Jemima, “but this place is spooky. Let’s go home.” Jeff laughed: “Home now? We’re about 15 minutes away from our stay.” But that proved to be one of Jeff’s less accurate predictions. Emily told him to turn right, and as always he did exactly what Emily told him to do. Then she told him to turn left, and he turned left. This was a much narrower lane than before, and the tall trees on either side made it into a sort of tunnel. It was like they were travelling through darkness and time. Eventually they passed a few houses and came to the end of the road. Emily said: “Bear right.” “But that’s not a road, it’s just a track,” said Jessica. And it was. “Well Emily’s not giving me much choice,” said Jeff. “And besides, I don’t think I could find the way back. Better do as the old girl says. She’s never let me down yet.” And he pressed his foot on the accelerator. The gravel crunched and the car bumped. They went further into the woods and it grew darker and darker. Smoochies, who was sitting on Jessica’s lap, started to howl. “Arroooooooooh!” From the back seat the kids were pleading: “Please Uncle Jeff, let’s go back. That’s not Emily’s voice in the satnav. It’s a ghost, and it’s leading us into a haunted wood.” And Jessica said: “I don’t think this can be right Jeff. Even Smoochies seems to think this is the wrong way, and you know, dogs have an amazing sense of direction..” “Although Smoochies is indeed a clever animal,” said Jeff, “when it comes to directions, I’ll take Emily’s word for it.” “That’s blown it. I’ll have to call for roadside assistance,” said Jeff. “Roadside! We’re not even on a road! We’re in the middle of a forest!” exclaimed his normally calm girlfriend. “A haunted forest!” clarified Jeremy. “I don’t suppose the breakdown driver will dare to come down here. It’s way too spooky.” Jeff looked at his phone. There was no signal. “Ok, I’ll go back to those houses and ring for help from there.” “You’re not leaving us are you?” asked Jemima. “Well you can come with me if you prefer,” said Jeff. But only Smoochies was keen to go with him. Jessica tried to keep up the kids’ spirits with terrible jokes. She had written several of them down in her notebook before they left, because she wanted to be well prepared for a weekend with children. Unfortunately, all the anecdotes were to do with Halloween, and therefore inappropriately spooky. “Ha Ha,” said Jeremy, in a flat, deadpan sort of way. But Jemima’s voice was far more animated: “Oh Oh I heard a ghost!” she exclaimed. “It was just an owl,” Jessica reassured her. It took Jeff and Smoochies twenty minutes to trudge back to the houses they had passed on the way. At the first gate, they were greeted by such ferocious growling and barking that they thought it wiser to back off. At the next house, the guard dog, though in full voice, was confined safely indoors. Eventually the door was opened just a crack by a farmer, who looked suspiciously out through the chained gap. “Sorry to bother you,” said Jeff. “Our car’s stuck in a ditch down the track.” “I expect you were following the satnav,” replied the farmer. “It sends all sorts down there. Trucks and cars. Too often we have to tow them out.” “If I could use your phone, I could call for assistance?” asked Jeff. “They won’t go down the track,” said the farmer. “I’d better get the tractor.” Back in the car, the children were hugging each other - not a common sight. It was partly to keep warm, but mostly because they were afraid. “What’s that sound?” asked Jemima with a shudder. It was a low rumble. “I think,” said Jeremy, “that it’s a beast of some sort. The beast crunched and growled over the gravel. “Whatever it is, it’s getting closer,” said Jessica, who was ashamed to admit to herself that she was feeling scared. She was a doctor. Doctors are meant to be scientific and rational. They aren’t supposed to believe in the supernatural. But this was the night before Halloween and they were deep in a dark forest. All they could hear was the sound of a giant beast. How could even a doctor not feel afraid? At least Jessica managed to keep her eyes open. She stared into the darkness. Soon she saw that the beast had two shining eyes just like - well - headlamps. “Hey kids, it’s not a monster, it’s another car.” In fact it was the tractor. Jeff jumped down and said: “Ghost Busters at your service.” A good tug on the towing rope was all it took to extricate Jeff’s expensive city car out of the Somerset ditch. The farmer advised Jeff not to trust satnavs around these parts, and drew a map in Jessica’s notebook. Soon they were on their way to Huish Cottonbois. Before they reached the village they spotted a sign to a farm where the owner had converted two of his barns into holiday lets. Jeff had booked one of them over the internet. They turned down another gravel track, but this time they were a little more confident that they were heading the right way. It led them down a steep hill through pitch black darkness. “I wouldn’t like to walk down here,” said Jessica. “Why ever not?” asked Jeff. You’re in the countryside. It’s a hundred times safer than the city.” “But it’s spooooky!” said the kids. Eventually they reached the lights of the farmhouse. Farm dogs barked and Smoochies replied with shrill woofs. Their host, Jillie, came out of the main building and showed the new arrivals into their barn. The photographs on the internet had shown a cosy place, but this was basic. The beds were bunks, the mattresses were lumpy and dippy, and whoever had plastered the walls had left big gaps. The temperature was on the cool side. “There’s not even a lock on the door,” complained Jessica. “That’s because nothing ever happens around here. It never has, and it never will,” Jeff reassured her. “Besides,” said Jeremy, “ghosts can walk through walls so there’s no point in locking the door.” They slept well after their long journey, and the following day on Halloween, they visited a lake, a castle, and the sea. The countryside was stunning, perhaps because it hadn’t changed for hundreds, maybe thousands of years, and you could feel that Jeff was right. “Here nothing ever happens, nothing ever changes, life just follows its natural rhythm and the cycle of the seasons.” In the evening, the kids carved pumpkins, exchanged trick or treats with the family in the next door barn, and dressed up in masks and costumes. Jessica painted their faces ghostly white with little dashes of rouge for blood. Smoochies wore bat wings and a hat with red pointy ears. Overall, they looked like a convincing family of ghouls. Their aim for the night was to visit the local bonfire and fireworks display on the village green. In times past, fireworks were held on November the 5th, to celebrate the failure of the Gunpowder Plot to blow up King James the 1st at the State opening of the The Houses of Parliament in 1605. For centuries children made effigies of Guy Fawkes, wheeled him around houses asking: “A penny for the guy,” and then burnt the stuffed clothes on the bonfire. This was how Jeff and his brother had celebrated in the dark nights of their childhoods. But nowadays in our United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Island, we have imported American ways, and our winter fun is held on Halloween. That night there was no fog. It was relatively warm and lit by a full moon. Jessica headed for the car but Jeff said: “The village is just down the lane. Let’s walk.” “What? Through the spooky dark?” asked Jeremy. “Exactly,” said Jeff. “The best reason for Halloween is to confront our irrational fears, and you’ll see, they’ll just melt away into the night.” “But my feet hurt,” complained Jeremy. “Come on. No excuses. Any ghouls will be scared away by that costume of yours,” said Jeff firmly. He shone his torch up the track, and that was the way they went. Jessica held Jemima’s hand. Jeremy trudged five paces behind the others, so that he could be in front if they had to turn and run from a spectre. They reached the lane where the main concern was to stay safe from cars. Jeff saw headlights ahead and made them stand on the grassy verge. The car went safely past and they marched on towards the village. Five minutes later they saw another flicker of lights. “To the side,” commanded Jeff. But Jessica replied: “That isn’t a car. It’s a firework. A couple of bangs and some red and green stardust confirmed that she was right. “Wizz, fizz, capow!” went the next rocket. Everyone knew that there was no point in protesting. Uncle Jeff sprung over a gate and the others clambered after him. The field was muddy and squelchy. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Jessica. They were heading into pitch blackness, only occasionally illuminated by the festive explosions overhead. “Oooh, what’s that?” asked Jeremy pointing towards a giant shape that was distinctly moving.” “Just a cow,” replied Jeff. “Can’t cows trample you to death?” asked Jessica. “Naa,” said Jeff. “Do cows normally snort like that? asked Jemima. The cow sounded like it had terrible sinus problems. Smoochies started barking like crazy. “Boom boom.” The ground shook. “Those weren’t fireworks,” said Jessica. “That cow of yours is stomping on the ground like… like…” “A bull…!” cried Jeff. “Run!” And they ran for their lives. Whether it was actually a cow or a bull, they didn’t find out, because fortunately they all made it back to the gate in one piece. “Did you see its eyes?” asked Jeremy. “They were glowing red. It wasn’t just a bull. It was a demon bull.” “Those were fireworks,” said Jeff. But the the kids and Jessica were convinced that its eyes really did glow in the dark. They watched the end of the fireworks from the safety of the road, before making their way back to barn where they warmed up with bowls of pumpkin soup. “Well kids,” said Jeff, “don’t you agree that it’s a good thing to confront your irrational fears?” “Irrational?” spluttered Jessica. “What’s irrational about being afraid of a deadly bull in a dark field?” “It wasn’t a bull, it was a cow,” insisted Jeff. “It was you who told us to run for our lives,” replied Jessica. “When you’ve got kids, you have to err on the side of caution,” Jeff explained. “Caution? You wouldn’t know what caution was if it headbutted you up a tree,” replied his girlfriend. There was a minute or two of sullen silence before Jeff thought of a way to change the subject: “Well who wants sparklers?” he asked. “MEEEE!” cried both the kids. And they went outside to write their names in the night with sprinkling lights on sticks. After a long drive, slowed by fog on the motorway, they arrived home late on Sunday evening. “Did you have a super spooky Halloween in the countryside?” asked Mum. “It was spooky,” replied Jemima. “A bit too spooky,” added Jeremy. When Jessica and Jeff were alone in the car, Jessica said: “Next year, let’s celebrate Halloween in the city, and confront our fears with silly costumes, loads of chockies and sweets. No more lonely lanes, dark woods, haunted satnavs, or demon bulls.” “I suppose you’re right,” said Jeff. He started the car, resigned to the fact that his family and his girlfriend were city souls through and through. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn41.txt b/text/sn41.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..8ed1e633c691c26ce9d509a0aad2da78ff91d21e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn41.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Since we have not met before, I had better introduce myself properly. My name is Lapis, like the blue stone. That’s because my eyes are beautifully blue. And I am a cat. Not just any cat but a magical cat. Well to tell you the truth, I am still training to be a magical cat, but I plan to be brrrrilliant at magic one day. I live a long time before you will be born, more than two and a half thousand years before you will even be thought of. My country is Egypt but I am told that you will call it Ancient Egypt. I am here to tell you stories. The subject of my tales is eternally fascinating. They are all about ME! What’s that? Someone is asking how it is that if I am truly ancient Egyptian, that you can hear my voice? Should I not be a mummified cat by now? Shouldn’t my stories have been written in pretty picture words called hieroglyphics, inscribed on scrolls of papyrus, torn by time into thousands of teeny shreds, and blown around by the African winds along with the sands of the desert? Well it is a good question. Yes I live a long time before you, and Amon the priest-scribe does write down my stories, and being a skilled magician, naturally he uses magical talking letters. That’s how I can speak to you directly down the millennia. What’s that you are saying now? Is “millennia” a word? Oh, so you are asking me, an ancient Egyptian Cat, to explain English to you now, are you? Well little one, the perfectly good word, ‘millennia’ means ‘thousands of years.’ You kids of the future think that we couldn’t do anything without your “modern” technology. Yes technology is sort of smart but let me tell you - it is nothing compared to magic of the past. And the most magical time and place ever was in Per-Bast on the river Nile. Some people will tell you that Memphis is the capital of magic. And yes it is for humans. But the cat capital of Egypt Is Per-Bast. And it is far more magical than Memphis. As even you Kids of the future probably know, we cats are the most magical creatures of all. Magic comes to us naturally. You humans might try for years to make yourself invisible. A few especially talented individuals will succeed - eventually. But we cats, if we have a good teacher, can learn to do such things in under a year. I’m still learning my magical lessons, but Amon the priest believes in me. Here at Per-Bast I have thousands of sisters and brothers. We cats call each other sister or brother even if strictly we aren’t from the same parents. The steps of the temple are literally crawling with cute kitties, scraggy strays, and sly bandit cats. But Amon says that The Cat Goddess, Lady Bastet, picked me out. She said to Amon, “There are as many cats with green eyes as there are grains of sand in the desert, but this gorgeous little kitty has blue eyes, and she is a chosen cat. She stands apart from all the others with her great beauty. You must train her up to honour me by performing wondrous magic.” That means I am a special cat. I’m sacred. If anyone harms me, they’re in for it. Divine retribution will follow swiftly. One day I shall by mummified and my spirit shall travel to the kingdom of the past cats. But I don’t want that to happen too soon, thanks. I’m having a nice time in this world. So if anyone is thinking of becoming my enemy, listen up: I’ve got friends in high places. Amon the priest, and Lady Bastet the cat goddess, are my friends, sponsors and protectors. Harm me and you shall have to answer to them. Let me give you an example of what I mean. There’s a priest at the temple called Simon the Greek - he got that name because he was born in Greece and came to Egypt when he was a boy. Simon the Greek does not even like cats - so what is he doing here at Per-Bast, the temple of cats you may ask? He’s in the wrong job. But presumably it pays him well so he stays. But he hates cats, unless they are mummified, so he sells them to the pilgrims as souvenirs. One time, when I was asleep, stretched out in the sun on a step outside his office, he gave me an almighty kick. It was a vicious enough swing of his leg to break a few ribs or even to kill a cat. But Bastet the cat goddess was watching over me, and she made his foot miss my side. Instead of booting me, he stubbed his toe on the stone step. How he howled and hopped about with pain! MEEEEEOW! That’s what comes of messing with me, Lapis, the favoured cat of Bastet and her high priest, Amon. But right now, I am not entirely sure that I am in Amon’s good books. He seems a bit cross with me. You see, he wants me to learn my magic faster. But it is not easy and I can only do my best. A few days ago, he picked me up in his big hands and looked directly into my blue eyes. I didn’t like that. It was kind of scary. ‘Listen, Lapis,’ he said, ‘Bastet told me in a dream that you are a chosen cat. But I am starting to wonder if it was a false dream that I saw. I have been teaching you for six solid weeks now, and you have made almost no progress. You can not even magic a mouse to stand still. If it was not for the words of Bastet in that dream, I would put you down as a lazy little feline. But Bastet is a great goddess and she knows better than I do. So here is what I’ve got to say. You learn your lesson well today, and you will receive a nice reward. I will have a solid gold earring made for you. It means getting your ears pierced, which might hurt a little, but after that you will have a pretty piece of jewellery to wear all your life, and to take later to the world of the cats on the other side of the dark river. You would like that wouldn’t you?’ Meeow! I said. Of course I would like a solid gold earing. It will make me even more beautiful and distinguished than I am already. My lesson was to learn the spell for turning Natron Salt into toothpaste - a handy domestic trick and a profitable one too because the priests sell it as a sideline. Pilgrims are usually in a jolly mood when they come to the cat temple, and they are ready to buy gifts to take home to their family. A pot of our famous Luxury Natron Toothpaste is a popular choice. It’s not just for teeth, you know. It can also be used for shaving foam, or for exfoliating lady’s skin, and at a pinch you can use it to embalm a relative. The priests sell it at a fancy price in the shop by the temple. Amon showed me how to wave the magic sign with my paw, and left me with 10 sacks of Natron - a valuable stock. I set to my work. My task was to have it all packaged up in smart little earthenware pots bearing a pretty symbol of our cat goddess, Bastet. I tried waving my paw and swishing my tail like it said in the magic book. Nothing happened. I tell you, this magic business is not as easy as it looks. It takes loads of practice. So, I went for a walk by the river to see if I could find some fish. When I dipped a paw in the water, an old crocodile snapped at me. SCREEECH! I scuttled back home in a somewhat nervous state before I and had another go at the paw waving magic. And this time it worked - or so I thought, When Amon returned that evening and found rows of pretty pots full of toothpaste he was well pleased with me. He fried a large piece of fish for my supper and promised me the gold earring as soon as the temple’s goldsmith could get one ready. But that was before anyone tried the toothpaste. Last night, he came back from work in not a pretty mood. ‘We sold 12 pots of the toothpaste you made,’ he said. I rubbed myself up against his leg. ‘One of the customers was a princess,’ he went on. ‘PRRRRRRRRR!’ I replied with pride. ‘Don’t purr me!’ said Amon. ‘She’s furious, Her teeth have turned black and her breath smells of rotten fish!’ ‘That’s toooo bad,’ I said, ‘But don’t blame me. The Natron salt must have gone off! You know, you can’t leave fish in the sun for long, because it will start to sink. It’s the same with salt, I’m afraid.’ ‘That’s the stupidest excuse I ever heard’ he shouted, ‘ Salt doesn’t go off. It’s you that’s a lazy, careless cat, who doesn’t learn her lessons!’ He was waving a finger at me, quite agitated, and I feared that he might do me some harm. ‘Now, now, don’t forget, I’m a favourite cat of the goddess,’ I reminded him. But Amon hurled a pot of toothpaste In my direction. Of course it missed me, because the goddess protects me, but I thought it would be wise to make myself scarce while he calmed down and saw sense. I sprang through the window and found a shady spot on the other side of the temple where I could hide out for a while. I will slink back in the morning. I hope the goddess will tell him in a dream to be patient with me. I might be a slow learner but I am destined for great things. You shall all see! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn42.txt b/text/sn42.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..8162b6f9daef5bbfe10e85484338f402eccda604 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn42.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +If there is one thing you can say about me with absolute certainty, it is this - I am am a a singular cat. What do I mean by singular, you ask? I am unique you know. If you looked at the thousands of the scraggy fleabags lounging around on the steps of the temple to the great cat goddess, Bastet, you would find it hard to tell one from another. But I am different. I have blue eyes. I am super smart. I am a magical cat. So when the priest, Amon, said to me, ‘Lapis, how would you like to have a sweet little sister-friend?’ I said ‘NO WAY!’ Amon shook his head and told me, ‘Well, that’s too bad, but you will get used to her sooner or later, and if Lady Bastet is willing, you might even grow to be friends.’ Friends! I did not like the sound of that. I’m a cat, not a manky, fawning dog, ready to be anybody’s best mate. We cats don’t do friends. All day I felt sick and anxious. I even puked up into the river Nile. And that evening, my worst fears came true. Amon brought home another cat. He spilled the sandy coloured creature out of a wicker basket and she sprang onto the floor. She stood staring at me, her back arched, a hostile gleam in her green eyes, THE CHEEK ! In my house! ‘This is unnatural,” I protested, to Amon. “You can’t keep two cats living under one roof! Any fool knows that! All we will do is fight.” But Amon shook his head and said, “The goddess commands it.” So the other cat, Cleo, stayed. Next, we eyed each other up and walked round in circles, as we cats do when we don’t like each other, which is often. She hissed. I hissed back twice as loud. And Amon, would you believe it, threw a shoe at me. He had never treated me like that before! “OY! None of that hissing!” he shouted, “You’ll be a nice cat to your new sister-friend.” “She hissed first,” I meowed back. “I don’t care who started it, don’t do it!” he scolded grumpily. Well , now I was deeply offended. Wouldn’t you be? I sloped moodily out of the house. But don’t think I was retreating, not I, Lapis, the Magical Cat. No, it was the time of day to lie on the roof and catch the evening sun as the Lord Ra gently tugged it down behind the horizon. I stretched out and felt my arms and legs go flop. Prrrr. What is there to worry about when the gentle rays of the late sun are heating your body? Everything is easy. Total relaxation. Blank brain. And then suddenly - what’s this? - it’s like somebody has lassoed my tail. I’m being pulled backwards along the roof and MEEEEEEEEOW - I’m falling - I land, as we cats learn to do, with a spring in my legs, but still, it is quite a shock. I looked up and saw that sandy coloured little imposter cat creeping along the roof to my sunny spot AND she was chuckling to herself. Then I knew what had happened. She had used magic on me! The minx! How dare she? Well, two can play at that game. I’ll soon show her. I’ll put such a spell on her … I know what I’ll do, I’ll, I’ll…. Well I can’t think of any spells right now but I will take a peak in Amon’s Magical Book and find something suitably mean. Later that evening, after half a fish for dinner - yes you heard that right, half, that’s what comes of sharing - I went into Amon’s room and sprang up onto his desk. I turned the pages of his special book with my paw, peering at the magical letters. It is a good thing we cats see well in in poor light. Amon came in and said, ‘Studying late are we? That’s a good cat.’ I did not reply. I was too intent on searching through the pages for something suitably nasty. Unfortunately, most of it was nice stuff - like cures for warts or spells to take make a person look 10 years younger - but nothing to my taste… unless… I adapted something … a spell to make you grow up tall… mmmmm….. The ingredients and quantities were for a human child… but what if I mixed them with cheese, added a touch of rapid root to make the impact more sudden - and left the magic food in the corner for a mouse to find? It seemed like an interesting idea. So that’s what I did. And then I crept outside the house to wait and watch. And WOW! It worked better than I could have hoped for. I thought that was the last of HER, but you’ve got to hand it to that cat, she does not give up easily. She came skulking back early in the morning. I was lying at the foot of Amon’s bed in my rightful place. I opened one eye and said, ‘Don’t you even think of jumping up here, or you’ll regret it.” But she was angry. And mean with it. With a screech that reminded me of the awful musician who plays in the temple, she sprung up onto the bed, teeth and claws flashing. Then there was a fight worth watching. Amon was shouting to us to stop, but neither us was in the mood for making peace. It might even have been a fight to the death if he hadn’t chucked a bucket of water over us both. As it was, we were both bitten, bleeding, and scratched. ‘That’s it!’ he said furiously. ‘I’ve had enough of you two. First thing in the morning you must both report to the goddess.’ Now, although I count Lady Bastet as my friend and supporter, I did not fancy going to her with a bad report. She’s a goddess, and when she’s angry, her wrath is something terrible. She can clap thunder and strike you with lightning from a clear cloudless sky. Plagues of locusts, or mice, or fleas - they are all her style - you name it she can do it. I thought of running away, but there was no point in hiding from Amon, let alone the all-seeing goddess. We tried pleading and reasoning and whining piteously but Amon was deaf to our pleas. He put us in two separate baskets and carried us to the temple. There he knelt before the statue of the Lady Bastet, the great cat goddess, and kissed her stone feet. Her eyes opened. They were awesome - piercing blue. We two cats were both trembling like we had the chills. “Oh Great One,” he called out, “ I followed your orders and put these two cats together but all they do is screech and fight. I can’t stand it any longer. They are driving me to distraction. What shall I do?” “Prrrrrrrrrrrr,” said Lady Bastet, “I am very disappointed in you two young cats. Lapis you are very talented but lazy and do not apply yourself to your lessons. Cleo you do not have the same natural ability at magic as Lapis, but you work hard. I thought a little healthy competition and some cooperation would bring out the best in you both. But it seems that you are not capable of rising above your feline natures. You would both rather fight each other than unite and take on evil in the world.” “Please lady Bastet, we didn’t mean to…” I whined. “Silence!” she screeched. “You both have one last chance. You can be sister friends and help each other OR you can go back to the temple courtyard and hang out with all the other stray, hungry cats, and take your chances with the priests who might well make you into mummies and sell you to the tourists.” “No, no please,” we both pleased, “Be merciful, great goddess.” “Mark my words. One last chance!” She told us, before closing those devine eyes. Amon gave us both a stern look and led us back to the house. When we were both back home, standing in the front room, Cleo looked at me, “Friends?” she asked. “Yes,” I said, trying not to spit, “Sister-friends.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn43.txt b/text/sn43.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..35364d1dfb93b3b0d5cb2272d334005bca9a0c53 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn43.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Dedicated to Maya and Liam Part One is here. Only fish, fools, and crocodiles swim in the river Nile. Well I have seen dogs dip in the blue swirly waters, but they count as fools. We cats, we are land loving creatures. Neither I nor my sister friend, Cleo, have the slightest desire to entrust our lives to a leaky boat. Sober is the god of the Nile, and his head is a crocodile. That tells you all you need to know about the river. If you dip so much as a paw into its waters, Sober or one of his sacred crocs might bite hold of it! I have seen boats glide down the shimmering band of blue, carrying all sorts of cargoes, barley flour, salt, spices, but mainly people, soldiers, slaves, merchants… I’ve seen a boat so overloaded with pilgrims, dancing, waving and partying, that it turned over and tipped them all into the water. I’ve always thought: “No way will you ever catch a smart cat like me on board one of those floating death traps.” So now, you ask me, how is it that I am hanging my head over the edge of one of those wooden boats and belching up into the Sacred Waters? And how come that Cleo, who shares my views on the perils of wetness is here with me? Here’s why If you heard my previous story, you will know that our master,Amon the Priest, was locked up in Jail. He was wrongly accused of stealing a gold statue of our glorious cat goddess, Lady Bastet. Lady Bastet herself told us that the high priest, Simon the Greek was the guilty party who had pilfered the statue and that his plan was to sell it to pirates. Simon is ahead of us. He has taken the statue up river to the city of Naucratis, up in the river delta where fingers of the Nile reach out into the sea and the lush crops grow all around where the waters flood. We have to prove that Amon is innocent, or we are done for.Nobody else will look after us the way he does. Without his protection, we will be a couple of stray kitties hanging amongst thousands skinny, scraggy, fleabitten mogs. We’ll be scrounging through rubbish heaps and hanging around pilgrims me-owing for scraps. We’ll be lucky if we dine on one mouse a week! So that’s why are suffering from travel sickness ! Finally! Lady Bastet be praised! We two kitties have made it safely onto dry land. Here we are at the port of Naucratis. You could hardly know that we are still in Egypt.The humans here are speaking a strange language. It is all Greek to me ! This is a Greek city and trading port inside Egypt. Our Pharaoh lets the Greeks live here because it’s profitable to sell them things. Oh my! What a busy place ! Meehow ! That cart nearly ran over my tail! So many people ! This way and that they go, carrying things on and off the ships, selling things, arguing over things, fighting over things, or just hanging around. We must make a dash for somewhere quiet before somebody treads on us. Let’s head for that doorway Cleo ! All day we sloped around the port. They trade all sorts here - cargoes of flour, large watermelons, fabrics, clothes, swords, helmets, trinkets, but we are yet to see any sacred statues. We spoke to a ship’s cat from the island of Samos. He’s a rough looking fellow - half his ear was bitten off in a fight. He was helpful, but I didn’t like the way he eyed my gold earring. He told us that it is illegal to sell sacred statues. “So,” said Cleo, “we might as well go home. They won’t be selling sacred statues round here.” The sly old ship’s cat scratched his half-ear. “I don’t say it don’t go on,” he told us, “Lots of things go on here that aren’t supposed to.” “You mean stuff that’s against the law?” asked Cleo. “You said it, kitty-face, not me!” he meowed. Now if you know anything about bad stuff, you’ll understand that a lot of it goes on at night.The humans don’t see well in the dark, and they think that their evil deeds won’t be spotted by people. As for us cats, our eyes can spot a mouse in the shadows, so we like the night, but we also get into fights in the dark. The dark is kind of thrilling to us, but also dangerous. Cleo and I crouched and watched the ships. We swished our tails when we saw a ship’s rat scurrying down a gangplank, but we had to hold ourselves back from pouncing. It’s probably for the best. He was a tough rodent who would have fought back tooth and claw. We were waiting to catch a bigger mouse. Our prize was none other than the gold statue of Lady Bastet. All night we waited. We saw suspicious characters come and go. We heard music, laughter, and fights. A knife glinted in the moonlight, and a sailor had to hand over his gold coin to a couple of robbers. A ship’s captain shouted at his crew because they had eaten all food when he returned home from a night on the town. We hid from a pack of wild dogs, and we chatted with the cats who creep around the docks where they unload the fish. We even spoke to the sea gulls. But noone had any intel on Simon the Greek, the thief priest from our temple, nor of the statue of lady Bastet. It was almost morning when we chatting with a greek cat called Zelina. “Cheer up,” she meowed, “Apollo is rising above the city. That means the fishing boats will soon be back,” “Who is Apollo?” Cleo asked. “Why, everyone knows he is the Sun God who heralds the day.” “Oh, you mean Ra,” I said. These Greeks have got their gods all mixed up, but with a little comparing you can work out who they are talking about. And then, just as an afterthought, I said : “What do you Greeks call your cat goddess?” “Well as it happens,” said Zelina, “We Greeks are lacking a cat goddess. Cats are unknown on mount Olympus.” “Really?”said Cleo. “That’s so uncivilised. Shocking!” “You are surely right, “ said Zelina, “ But fortunately change is afoot. Our ship’s captain has his eye on a beautiful statue of the Egyptian Cat Goddess. He plans to take her back to Greece. I can’t wait to see the look on the stupid dogs’ faces when they see our master bow down to a cat goddess before he fries a fat juicy fish for her breakfast, which we shipshape cats shall share in, of course.” “Of course,” we agreed. “But deerest Zelina, do tell us, where is this cat goddess you mention?” She pointed with her paw down a long avenue. We thanked Zelina and scampered straight off, “Hey, aren’t you waiting for the fishing boats?” she called after us. But we were in a hurry. “Where are we going?” Asked Cleo, as we ran. “To Simon the Greek and the statue,” I meowed. “But where is he?” “Down this road somewhere.” On, on we went, down the avenue. It was mostly deserted. A few traders were setting up their stalls by the side of the road, ready to sell baked bananas and fried sheep eyes to the early risers. But where would Simon the Greek be hanging out? By now we were slowing down. We had pounded the road so hard that our paws were smarting. Which of these many buildings was Simon the Greek staying in? We had forgotten to ask. Thankfully, the goddess sent us a clue: something we were sure to notice : the smell of grilled sardines. MMMMM Then we saw that one of the buildings was a small temple, more of a shrine you might say. The feet of its twin gate posts were cats’ paws. This had to be the place. This had to be a shrine dedicated to our Lady Bastet. We crept inside the courtyard, and sure enough, there we found him : Simon the Greek was cooking his breakfast. The aroma was delicious. Normally we would have purred and rubbed ourselves around his legs until he either gave us a few titbits of fish or more likely told us to scram before he had us skinned, grilled, or sold us as kebabs But this was no time to think of our stomachs. This was our one and only chance to save our master Amon and many future dinners given to us on plates. Cleo hid behind the bronze gong. I placed myself behind the statue of Bastet. It was only a small stone statue mind you - not a patch on the gold and jewel encrusted statue stolen from our temple. “Simon,” I hissed, using a little magic to sound like the voice of the goddess. “Simon,” repeated Cleo, like a ghostly echo. That got his attention. He is high priest to the cat goddess and he understands our cat language, as well a Greek and Egyptian. But he could not see us. He glanced over at the altar. It seems he believed that the goddess was addressing him. “How did you think you could escape?” I went on. “Did you think that you could fool me, Lady Bastet. My blue eyes see through the dark. I am a witness to your thieving.” “SSSSSSSSS!” Hissed Cleo supportively, out of sight. How I wished that I could see his expression, to judge if he was falling for our trick ! But I had to remain hidden. I stayed silent for a few moments to let my words sink in. Then, gratifyingly, I heard him start to pray: “Oh Glorious lady of the Cat Whiskers, you of the golden paws, the lapis blue eyes, the pointed nose, the rough tongue, and the elegant legs that move stealthily through the night. Here I am, Simon the Greek, your high priest, your humble servant. Your wish is my command.” This was fantastic. I’ve always wanted a man to speak to me like that. If only I had been born a goddess, and could command this type of respect all the time. “Listen up!” I said, “You’ve been a bad, bad boy. You’ve stolen my statue. I’m not pleased. Take it back immediately to the temple at Bakst. Don’t you dare sell it to greek pirates. Make sure the police know that it is returned to its rightful place, and that they let Amon the Priest out of jail, for he is entirely innocent. And while you are about it, give a special reward to his two cats, because they have remained faithful to him, and to me, all through these trials and tribulations.” Simon the Greek bowed so deeply that I could hear his forehead hitting against the stone paw of the statue. That was gratifying. Still bowing he backed away from the alter, thanking the goddess for great mercy, and vowing to return the stolen effigy. He was soon out of that shrine, and I’m glad to say he forgot to eat his breakfast, a task which we completed for him, soon enough. I think you may rest assured that by next time I speak to you, all will be back to normal, and we shall be living once again with our master, Amon the Priest, newly restored from Jail, and we can look forward to lots of nice rewards. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn44.txt b/text/sn44.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..e763060cf993c67e1a7a9fb3d788c39ad0122ec3 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn44.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Lapis, the ancient Egyptian cat, returns in this spooky two-part adventure We cats have our hates. We hate water ( except to drink), crocodiles, snakes, fleas, rotten fish, feeling hungry, dirt, stupid dogs, and all sorts of ghosts and spectres. So if this story is a bit scary, I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Spooky stuff happens sometimes. It was the time of the month when Lord Khonsu is round and fat. Oh, I am forgetting, you future people don’t call the gods by the names we use. I had better let you know that Lord Khonsu is the moon god. Around midnight, my sister friend, Chloe, and I were sitting on the roof of the house belonging to Nanoona, the priestess. We were enjoying the aroma of grilled fish that was still lingering around the smoke hole in her roof, just above the stove where she cooks. All was quiet - but here’s the thing - the deadliest danger isn’t yappy like a dog, or hissy like a bandit cat - it sneaks up silently. Chloe and I both felt it at the same time. It was the feeling you get along your spine when a snake slithers out of the grass just in front of you. It was like UGGGGGGG! Only it wasn’t in front of us, we both knew that whatever it was lurked behind us. We wanted to run, but our legs were frozen. A moment or two later a large white cat sat down beside us. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Can’t you smell?” murmured Chloe. “We are savouring the smoke from the grilled fish.” “I can’t smell anymore.” “Poor you,” I said, “have you lost your nose in a fight?” “No,” said the white cat. “We dead cats can’t smell.” “Chloe and I both shuddered. “Did you say, d-d-d,” asked Chloe, but she could not finish the dreadful word. The pale cat nodded. “Well,” I said, “Nice meeting you. It’s time for us to be heading off. Our master will be worried that we’re not back.” And then Chloe and I both legged it across the rooftops faster than a pair of shooting stars. Back home, I pawed at Amon’s sleeping head. He’s our master, a priest at the temple of lady bastet, and he understands our language. “Amon, Amon,” we meowed. “What is it?” he asked drowsily, “you look like you just saw a ghost.” “We did!” we both screeched. “Don’t be silly kitties” said Amon now sitting up, “Ghosts aren’t allowed out of the underworld. Lord Osiris is strict. Once a spirit has been admitted to the Field of Reeds, there’s no turning back. You just got spooked by some shadow or something,” He was so certain that spirits are not allowed to flit around the living world, that we began to think that he was right - and the cat we had met wasn’t a ghost, just some kind of freaky weirdo. Even so, we both thought it safer to skip the midnight strolls. It was about a week later, when we were curled up on the foot of Amnon’s bed, when we were awoken by a caterwauling and screeching so deafening and scary that even Amon exclaimed: “Ye Gods ! Has every spirit been released from the underworld?” “You told us that was impossible!” I reminded him. “It’s is!” answered Amon, “But sometimes the impossible happens, before adding, “Well, don’t just sit there, go and find out what’s making that row!” “Are you kidding?” We both replied shaking our heads. “We’re going to hide in the cupboard until the dreadful noise stops.” Which is what we did. The terrifying sounds continued to rip through the night skies until Lord Ra’s red sun peeked over the horizon in the East. By dawn we were certain that the world must have ended amid some end-of-days war between the gods. But when we finally peaked through the slats of the window shutters, we saw that our neighbours houses were still standing, and the River Nile was gently flowing, not flooding nor dried up, and no gods were flying around the sky in their chariots. “By Lady Bastet,” said Amon, “apocalypse has been postponed.” Which was a priest’s fancy way of saying that the world had not ended just yet. It was at Lady Bastet’s temple that we learned what had happened. As I have mentioned before, there are thousands of stray cats who stay on the steps of the temple, competing for the scraps thrown by the priests and the pilgrims. Every so often, some wicked priests catch a whole load of cats and turn them into mummies to sell to the tourists. It’s one of the hazards of hanging around the temple, and is why we are so lucky that Amon took us into his house. This is what we learned. In the middle of night, the temple cats were almost spooked out of their skins by an invasion - an army of ghost cats and shining luminous skeletons came running across the surface of the river Nile and up onto the steps of the temple. That was when the apocalyptic screeching shredded our peaceful sleep. As the temple is on an island, the living cats had nowhere to run. The Nile is wet and full of crocodiles, and nobody in their right minds wants to dip a paw into those waters. Some cats hid, some fought, some ran around in circles. The chaos and screaming continued until dawn when the dead cats departed as suddenly as they had arrived. In the morning, the chief priest, Simon the Greek, called an emergency meeting of all the priests and priestesses. He spoke from the top of the temple steps and of course we cats listened with pricked up ears. “This is a cataclysmic catastrophe,” he declared, which was priest-speak for “bad - seriously bad.” ', "“Never In my whole career have I seen such a marketing disaster. Tourists from the Pharaoh's palace were sleeping in the Sanctuary of Heracles just behind the temple. They almost died of fright and could not sail away fast enough. I must warn you. Business is going to take a downturn. People come to the cat temple for a great day out, not to meet the spirits of the dead.”", ' We all knew that this could not have come at a worse time. The rival cat Temple at Alexandria was growing in popularity and had already been stealing business from us before this spooky news. No tourists would mean no scraps. Kitties’ bellies would go empty. On the plus side, there would be less demand for mummified cats. After that, the boats that travel up and down the Nile sailed on past our temple island without stopping, and the priests’ souvenir shop was as quiet as a Pharaoh’s tomb. The scary spectors continued to stalk around the island at night, and sometimes scrimished with the living cats. Chloe and I reckoned we were safe enough, so long as we did not set a paw outside the house when it was dark. That was until Amon told us one day, “Simon the Greek has asked to see you two in his office.” This was the worst possible news. A few weeks back, we had caught Simon trying to sell off a sacred statue. We both knew that he was itching for revenge. Simon was the highest of high priests at the cat temple. When we entered his office we had to show respect by kissing his feet with our noses. By Osiris ! He hadn’t washed this feet since walking to work that morning! ‘Meeow, we are at your service,’ we both said, looking up at him. I did not like the way he was holding his sharp quill pen. It looked like he wanted to throw it at us. He told us: ‘Lady Bastet in her wisdom has chosen you as her most highly favoured cats,’ he said. We nodded - in fact we both knew that was the one reason he had not had us skinned. ‘Therefore,’ he went on, ‘I am entrusting you both with a mission that is vital to the future of the temple.’ ‘What mission is that?’ I asked, my voice trembling. ‘You must visit the land of the dead and ask Lord Osiris to stop letting the dead cats to go out at night and walk through the land of the living.’ ‘But, But,’ said Chloe, ‘you can’t reach the land of the dead unless you are dead.’ ‘If it’s a problem I can help you with that,’ said Simon, with a little smile that showed his gold teeth. It gave me the creeps. ‘No, no, we can manage on our own,’ I replied, hastily. ‘I’ve heard they are letting visitors into the Land of the Dead these days. We’ll get there just fine even though we are alive.’ We left the office of Simon the Greek in the most downcast of moods. Before we returned home we sat in the harbour and looked at the River Nile, and the peaceful marshes behind it, until Lord Ra pulled the burning sun down behind the horizon. “They say the sun visits the land of the dead at night, “ I told Chloe. “How will we get there?” she asked. “And more importantly, how how we get back?” I added. We were both meowing piteously when our master, Amon, came to find us. We heard his voice calling, “Lapis, Chloe, here kitty-kitties, where are you?” We both came running up to his big feet. “Here you are, “ he said. “I was worried when you did not come home for dinner.” “Perhaps we will never come home for dinner again,” I replied. “Because Simon the Greek has ordered us to visit the Land of the Dead.” Amon has a short temper, but deep down he loves us - we cats can tell that sort of thing you know. He took us both up in his big hands and placed Chloe on his left shoulder and me on his right. This is how we rode home in style. Now as every cat who hangs around the temple knows, Amon is the most highly skilled magician around these parts - which is why most of us think that he should be the highest of high priests in the place of Simon the Greek. If there is spell worth knowing, then Amon knows it. The most important scrolls in his collection make up the Book of the Dead. Wealthy people pay him good money to teach them the spells they will need to reach the Field of Reeds when they pass into the next life. Now he gave us a quick lesson. “You have a long journey ahead of you, “ he told us. “You will take a boat along the dark river. When you reach the hall of Maat, a god will ask you, “Have you ever made anyone cry?’ And you must reply, “No, not ever.” Next a god will ask you, “Have you ever told a lie?” And you must reply, “No, not ever.” Have you got that? “Yes,” we both said. “And finally a god will ask you, “Have you ever peed in the River Nile?” And what do you think your reply should be?’ “Why yes, of course,” I said. Amon shook his head, “No, no no, you silly Kitty, ‘no’ is correct answer.” “But that would be lying,” protested Chloe. “I know, I know, everyone, even the Pharaoh, has to tell a fib or two to reach the Field of Reeds in the Land of the Dead. But don’t worry. I shall give you both magical collars that will keep your heart from betraying you. When you are wearing these collars, you can tell as many lies as you like, and you will always be believed. By the way, you must promise to give them back to me when you return.” “If we return,” I said sadly. “You shall, you shall,” Amon reassured us, before adding, “I think.” “What do you mean you think?” demanded Chloe with a swish of her tail. “I mean,” said Amon, “Is that it makes no sense to keep living cats in the Land of the Dead, so I have good reason to hope that Osiris will allow you to return to the Land of the living. In fact, he’ll probably kick you out!” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn45.txt b/text/sn45.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d27f9eaced11fe9f7d45f737f33ae8ffdf037cbe --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn45.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Bonzo is an ordinary pet, until one day his family moves to Kuwait. Pa (Dad) says that Bonzo can’t come with them, and he donates Bonzo to the Space Centre. There he meets a cat and a parrot, and from the first the three animals do nothing but quarrel. Unfortunately, they have to put up with each other’s company because they have been chosen to travel together on a mission to another planet . You will be able to catch the second and final part next week. Story by Bertie. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. I used to live an ordinary sort of life, chewing slippers, chasing cats and birds, and generally amusing the family I lived with. They were all kind of cute, especially the little girl whose name was Jenny. Jenny used to cuddle me and take me for walks. But I always suspected that Pa didn’t like me much. He never really forgave me for the time I had an accident in his new car. I was only a very small puppy at the time, and hadn’t learnt that you have to go outside under a tree, but after that little mishap he always looked at me in a suspicious sort of way. One evening, after Jenny had gone to bed, I heard him say to Ma: “Of course we’ll have to get rid of the dog. Jenny will be upset, but she’ll soon get over it when she makes lots of new friends in Kuwait.” I didn’t know where Kuwait was. It might as well be a different planet as far as I was concerned. But I got the message that the whole family was moving there and Bonzo the dog wasn’t going with them. I tried to explain all this to Jenny in the morning. I looked at her pleadingly with my big brown eyes while she was eating her breakfast. She sneaked me a bit of toast under the table, which was very kind of her, but it wasn’t what I meant. Just then Pa came into the kitchen and shooed me out into the garden. Nasty man. Normally, after Pa has dropped Jenny off at school, we don’t see him until evening, and we can all get on with our business without being shooed and ordered about, but this time he came back home straight away. I knew that something was up. Soon he was pulling me by the lead to the back of his car. I dug my heals in as best I could, but he was much bigger than me. If you are a dog, you soon learn that it’s best to trot along on the lead, rather than to sit down and be dragged. You end up at the same place, but with fewer bumps on your behind. I hopped into the car, but without any enthusiasm. Somehow I didn’t think that we were going walkies in the park. Pa drove out of the town and onto the big road. I got bored and thirsty and went to sleep on the back seat, but I didn’t have any nice dreams. Eventually I realized that Pa was parking the car, and I pressed my nose against the window to see where we were. It was a strange place, rather desperately in need of some grass and a few nice trees. It was all hot tarmac, gleaming glass, and concrete. Pa led me inside a huge building. After a long wait, a woman dressed in a white coat came to collect me. Uh-oh, I thought. This is one of those vets. I know what that means. Kind, weezily words like: “Nice doggy, this won’t hurt you,” that nobody but a fool would believe. Then all of a sudden, a sharp jab in the behind. The treachery! Pa left me there without so much as a curt pat on the head. "AW! AW!" If only Jenny knew that I was here. The woman put me – would you believe it, into A CAGE! The humiliation of it! Me, a loved family pet, dumped in the animal prison. For I wasn’t the only creature there. I was sharing this gaol with a cat, a monkey and a parrot, each in its own cage. I couldn’t even be bothered to snarl at the cat. What was the point? We were all suffering together. "AooooW! AoooooW!" After a while, the cat said to me: “Stop moaning pooch features. You won’t be here long. They only need intelligent animals in this place." “What for?” I asked. “Why, haven’t you read the poster on the wall?” asked the cat. “Oh, pardon me. I forgot for a moment. You’re a dog so you’re too stupid to read. Well I’ll tell you. That’s a picture of a rocket, and the writing says that this is a Space Centre. This is where they pick animals to be astronauts and to go to places in the sky. But as I said, you needn’t worry. Only intelligent animals can pass all the tests.” Of course I didn’t believe her. Cats talk the most utter nonsense – you know. The cat hissed: “Stupid Pooch!” And I snarled through the bars of my cage. She wouldn’t have dared be so rude if I could have got anywhere near her. The parrot started repeating: “Stupid Pooch, Stupid Pooch.” And I barked and the cat screamed, and soon the woman in the white coat was in to see what all the fuss was about. “Now, now you three,” She said. “ They can probably hear this racket on the other side of the galaxy.” She looked cross, but she did open my cage and let me out. I felt very superior as we left the others behind. But the place she led me to smelt of disinfectant mixed with pee. That was where they gave me the soft talk followed by sharp jab in the behind. I knew it! The traitors! Soon my eyes felt heavy and I wanted to take a nap. I curled round, tucked my nose under my paw, and I was out. I woke up in a strange room. It was a bit like Pa’s car, only bigger and without any windows. The cat and the parrot were there too. The cat was eyeing up the parrot as if she wanted to eat him, but the parrot was safe behind a glass wall. The cat and I were free to roam around, so at least she had to show me a bit of respect, in case I might nip her. That was good. Things had been arranged so that I was in charge. Then some lights started to flash, and there was a rumbling noise for a long time. The cat looked as sick as a parrot and the parrot looked as sick as well, and I Iooked – probably much the same. A voice squarked “10, 9, 8….” I looked up and saw it was the parrot speaking. “Oh do shut up you stupid bird,” said the cat. And it was then that the whole caboodle started to roar and shake. At first it felt like my tummy was dropping down into my paws, and then, after quite a while, things seemed to go back to normal. It was quite dark, apart from some strange greenish lights. I wanted to go to back sleep, but the cowardly meowing of the cat kept me awake. “Listen Mog," I said. “If we are all going to die, let’s die quietly. And that’s an order.” But she didn’t shut up until much later. Eventually, I fell asleep, and when I woke up I saw that some breakfast had arrived in two bowls, one for me, and one for that cat. And the cat had eaten both of them. This was too much. I decided to kill the cat and eat her instead. That would be the end of my troubles. But when I pounced on her with my teeth bared, I found that instead of shooting towards her, I was sort of floating in mid air. My paws were paddling all over the place, but it made no difference. Even the parrot was impressed by my flying. The cat leapt out of my way, and she too was flying around like a fat balloon. This was all very strange. After we had both settled back down on the floor, I decided to show my leadership qualities. “Hey,” I said. “Those humans are probably watching us and think this is all hilarious. Let’s learn to be friends, at least while we are cooped up in here – and when we get out, then we can kill each other.” Even the cat had to agree that I was talking sense, and the parrot seemed too stupid to express an opinion on the matter. From then on, we lived by some rules, the most important of which was that if anybody ate my dinner, they were dead. I don’t know how long that awful journey went on. I used to think that Jenny’s grandma, was a long way away, but this took much longer than going to her place by the seaside. Food seemed to appear when we were asleep, and although we made the usual mess that all living things make, the straw on the floor just seemed to eat it up and it disappeared. It was a clever contraption that we were in. Eventually, we heard the roaring sound and the contraption started to shake again. The cat was meowing: “We’re all going to die,” and I didn’t even bother to tell her to shut her silly snout. Our journey came to its end with an almighty bump and we were all three of us thrown around the place. This time we didn’t float harmlessly around, and we all ended up with bruises, but nothing too serious. But we soon forgot about all that when a door opened in the side of the contraption, and we were greeted by the sweetest, most gorgeous smell in the Universe. Fresh, salty, sea air. So perhaps we had come to Aunty Jane’s after all, by the round-about route. The parrot’s cage flew open and he was out in no time. The cat went sliding down a shoot, and I came after her. Soon I was splashing through the surf of the sea, and the cat was looking at me like I was crazy. The parrot was sitting up on a sand dune. I hadn’t been so pleased to be alive since I was a puppy. All I needed now was a stick to fetch, and my happiness would have been complete. When I came out of the sea, I shook myself so that the water went flying all over the cat and the parrot – that trick never goes out of fashion, and I woofed with joy. After a while I barked: “Cheer up Mog. Aren’t you glad that we’ve arrived?” “I’d be happier if I saw a mouse,” said the cat. “What are we going to eat? Unless you know how to fish, we’re going to starve to death." “Don’t be stupid,” I said. “Some humans will come along soon and take care of us. My owner’s grandma lives some where near by." “Your owners grandma?" said that cat quite astonished. “She’s only a million miles a way. Haven’t you got it yet? They’ve sent us to another planet.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn46.txt b/text/sn46.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9e548945906aa643c45a7ba53f1f9b7ed8e12131 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn46.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Mr Shingles does not believe in modern zoology. He thinks that pampering to animals’ every wish just encourages them to lounge and loaf around. His new regime is far from the animals liking. The animals want to “bite back” – but only Theo is ingenious enough to find a way. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 16 min. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn47.txt b/text/sn47.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ec7a917800ba48dce54f4d13502e490d1d6e8ac2 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn47.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 19.20 minutes. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. “Oh dear,” thought the Mayor. “He probably wants to miss our card game. He always claims he’s busy fighting crime, but I know he just doesn’t like losing.” And so he reluctantly flipped open his phone. “His Honour the Mayor speaking,” he said in a weary voice. “Good morning Horace,” said the Police Chief. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.” “No, no,” huffed the Mayor. “I’ve been at my desk since dawn, this great city of ours never sleeps.” “I’m afraid I’ll have have to miss tonight’s card game. I’ve a serious crime to solve. A kidnapping.” The Mayor smiled to himself. Another one of his excuses, he thought. But after he had wished the Police Chief better luck with his case than with cards, he closed his phone and reached for the remote control to turn on his television set to catch the news. A red banner flashed across the bottom of the screen: “Breaking News: Kidnapping,”it said. And the Mayor thought to himself that it must be somebody important that had got him or herself kidnapped. And it was. The reporter who was standing outside some large factory gates wore her most serious face. She was saying: “A ransom note was sent this morning to the head of the Yummy Chocolate Factory demanding 100 million pounds for the safe return of one the most loved and respected creatures who has ever hopped across the planet.” And the Mayor understood that it wasn’t a person, but an animal who had been kidnapped. But what sort of animal could it be that was worth 100 million pounds? Even a champion racehorse was scarcely worth such a fortune? Perhaps some old aristocratic lady with more money than sense had lost her favourite pussy cat? But why was the note sent to the Head of the Chocolate Factory? He’d just have to keep listening to that reporter on the 24 Hour News Service. “And joining me now is The President and CEO of the Yummy Chocolate Factory, Sir Percival Yummy. Sir Percival, Easter is just around the corner. How will the Chocolate Factory cope without the services of the Easter Bunny?” “I’m afraid the situation is very grave,” said Sir Percival. “Without the aid of the Easter Bunny, it’s simply impossible to deliver chocolate eggs to all the children of the world all in one night. It’s a bit like Christmas without Santa Clause… it’s, it’s .. .unthinkable.” And the Mayor thought that Sir Percival was about to cry. The reporter did not seem to notice this. “So will you pay the 100 million pound ransom?”she pressed him. “No we will not,” he replied steadfastly. “It is the policy of the Yummy Chocolate Factory never to pay ransom money under any circumstances. That would simply encourage more kidnapping.” It took a moment for the seriousness of the situation to sink into the Mayor’s brain. When it did, he leapt out of bed faster than he had done for years and ran down to his office, still in his pyjamas. He turned on his computer and saw hundreds of emails downloading into his inbox. Many were from anxious parents, teachers and nannies with subjects like: “Help, my kids are going hysterical and won’t stop crying…” And then there was another email from the chief gardener entitled: “So, shall we cancel the Easter Egg Hunt?” The Easter Egg hunt took place every year in the grounds of the Mayor’s House. The Easter Bunny hid eggs behind the flowers and in the bushes, and children from all over the city came and searched for them. It was one of the most popular events of the year, and showed the Mayor as a politician with a heart, who cared for families and children. It won him lots of votes. By now he was starting to grow angry. He picked up his red telephone and shouted “Get me the Chief of Police!”And a minute later he was again talking to his friend: “You blithering idiot!” he cried. “Why haven’t you found that bunny yet?” The Chief of Police was used to his old friend’s swings of mood, and he replied calmly: “Horace, rest assured that the finest crime fighting unit in the land is on the case, and at this very moment is rounding up the usual suspects.” And at the top of the Police Chief’s list was a name which we have come across before: It belonged to somebody who was known to go quite berserk at the merest sniff of chocolate. He lived in the city zoo, he was a monkey, and his name was Theo. If you’ve heard the story called “The Monkey Who Loved Chocolate” you will know that Theo once ate some chocolate and went completely bananas. He went on the rampage stealing chocolate all over the place. It was coming up to Easter and there was almost no chocolate left for the children of the city, but Theo calmed down eventually, and promised to be good. His hairy face was currently staring out of the Police Chief’s computer screen. Normally his round brown eyes were cheeky but cute, but at the time his police photograph had been taken, he was startled by the flash and looked like a completely crazy ape. “Ooh, he looks like a bad’un,” said a woman Police Officer who was passing by. “No worries,” said the Police Chief. “We’ll soon have him behind bars.” But of course Theo was already living behind bars in the zoo. And much to his surprise and delight, that morning he had found a chocolate egg in his bed of straw, and he had gobbled it up and was now swinging across the roof of the cage screeching “Ooo Ooo, Ah Ah Aha!” When the police came to arrest him, his face was covered in brown chocolate, and that made him look especially guilty. The police sergeant said: “There he is. That’s the bunny snatcher – and constable, put on your white gloves and pick up all that chocolate-smudged silver foil – that’s evidence that is.” Mr Grabber, who was the zoo keeper in charge of the monkeys, tried and catch Theo, but it wasn’t easy because he kept swinging around the bars. While this was all happening, a police dog got chatting to a bull dog whose name was Titanic. Titanic was a squat, muscular, squash-faced animal, and not the brightest canine who ever lived. His owner was Mr Grabber, and wherever Mr Grabber went, Titanic went too. “Perhaps I should have been a police dog,” said Titanic, “because I’m really good at catching things. Only yesterday, I saw a white rabbit sneaking into the monkeys’ cage and chatting to that Theo. When he came out, I chased him into a corner by the visitor’s toilets, and I would have gobbled him up, only Mr Grabber came along and popped him into a bag, and now he’s keeping him in a hutch behind the Llamas’ enclosure. There’s something very unusual about that rabbit, because he smells, not like he’s supposed to, but like chocolate. I hope we have him for dinner tonight, because I’d really like to try what he tastes like.” And when the police dog heard this, he understood that they had come to arrest an innocent monkey. Because it wasn’t Theo who had kidnapped the Easter Bunny, but Mr Grabber and his bull dog. Eventually, when the police threatened to shoot him with a dart that would make him go to sleep, Theo decided to come quietly. He was put under arrest, hand-cuffed, loaded into the police van, and driven away at high speed with the blue light flashing and the siren going “De De De De De De.” When they got to the police station, Theo was led into a cage. But unlike the cage at the zoo, this one was small, dark, and not very nice – because it was a police cell. Theo screeched “Help, let me out. I’ve been framed!” But the police officers could not understand. All they heard was “EEK Ahha Ahha!” An hour later the Mayor was standing on the lawn outside his office and talking to the reporter from the 24 Hour News station. He looked into the TV camera and said: “I am delighted to tell you that I have successfully guided our city through this grave crisis and the situation is now under control. The villain who committed this terrible crime is behind bars, and tomorrow he will be tried and found guilty and then I will personally throw away the key to his prison cell.” “But Mayor,” said the reporter, “any news of the missing bunny?” “No more time for questions, duty calls” said the Mayor, and he turned round and went back to his office. The hours went by, and Theo began to feel very sad and lonely, and a bit frightened. A policeman brought him some bread and water and offered him a chance to make one phone call. But Theo didn’t have anyone to call. And then a lawyer came to see him, and they went up to an interview room where a police officer turned on a tape recorder and said: “You have a right to remain silent, and any thing you say may be taken down and used in a court of law as evidence against you.” And Theo said: “Oooh, ah ah ah.” And then they took him back to his cell. It was a few hours later, as Theo tried to sleep, that he heard the jangling of keys. He buried his head in the pillow and pretended not to notice. Then a gruff voice said: “Come on, wake up. It’s time we sprung you out of here.” He opened his eyes and saw that it was a police dog with keys in his mouth. In a jiffy, Theo had sprung up, reached through the bars for the keys, and climbed up to get the lock open. Monkeys are highly intelligent primates you see, and it’s not at all difficult for them to do such things. “Put on this blue coat,” said the dog. It was a sort of jacket that police dogs sometimes wear. The word “Police” was written on the back. Theo put it on. “Now try and act like a police dog,” said the dog. But as they walked together through the busy part of the station, a policeman said “I didn’t know we were using monkeys on the force,” and another policeman said: “I expect that they climb in through windows and catch criminals by surprise.” Still, nobody stopped them, and soon they were out on the street and running down the road. On the corner, they paused for breath, and the dog explained what he had heard about Mr Grabber kidnapping the Easter Bunny. “I might have known it,”said Theo. “He’s a REAL villain, that Mr Grabber.” But the important thing was that Theo knew where the Easter Bunny was being kept prisoner – at the back of the llama pen. He caught a 49 bus straight back to the zoo, and soon was able to find his old friend and release him from his hutch. I don’t need to tell you how glad the bunny was to be let free, not least because it was his busiest time of year and he had so much work to do before Easter. He would have just loved to go straight to the police station and tell them all about Mr Grabber, but he couldn’t do that, because, well he was a bunny you see. So he ran back straight to his secret hideaway to catch up on sorting out his Easter Eggs. The next morning the Mayor sat up in bed and turned on his television set to see if there had been any developments over night in the case of the missing bunny. A red banner flashed across the screen saying: “Breaking News. Monkey Escapes.” And the reporter was saying: “The chief suspect in the case of the missing Easter Bunny has escaped from police custody.” The Mayor rushed down to his office and was about to pick up his red phone and demand the immediate sacking of the Chief of Police when he noticed a little envelope on his desk. The envelope was sealed with with wax and imprinted with a secret sign – a sign which very few people know and recognise, but fortunately the Mayor was one of them. It was the seal of the Easter Bunny, and every year he used it to communicate with the Mayor and to arrange the annual Easter Egg hunt. “That’s strange,” said they Mayor. And he fumbled open the envelope. Inside he found a card and on the card was written the following words. “Dear Mayor. The Monkey is Innocent. Yours Sincerely, The Easter Bunny.” Text Copyright Hugh Fraser 2009. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn48.txt b/text/sn48.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..0579e83cb6649c7b25d8d517c63f07c3984e6d6d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn48.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Mr Grabber, the keeper of the monkeys cage, has a new scheme which on the face of it seems to be for a good cause. When Theo digs deeper, he finds that Mr Grabber and his girlfriend are up to their usual criminal tricks. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Hello, this is Natasha, and I’m dropping by with a story about Theo the Monkey. You may remember that Theo’s arch enemy is Mr Grabber, the zookeeper who is always up to some criminal schemes. Theo believes in justice and is infuriated that Mr Grabber always seems to get away with his crimes. In this story, Theo decides that he must take up the fight for what is right. One evening, after the zoo was closed, Mr Grabber, the keeper of the monkeys, opened the door to the cage. “Which of you hairy gang would like some banana ice cream?” he called out. “Oooh, ah ah aha!” replied the nearest half-a-dozen monkeys who had heard him. “Well swing on out of the cage and work for your keep,” said Mr Grabber. Theo was among the monkeys who reported for duty in a line outside the cage. He wondered what criminal scheme Mr Grabber would have up his sleeve this time. But that evening, the keeper’s aim seemed surprisingly public spirited. He ordered them to pick up litter and to put it into black bin bags, and whenever they found an old entrance ticket to the zoo, to put it into a special green bag to be recycled. And he promised that he would exchange banana ice cream for full bags of litter. The monkeys understood perfectly well what to do, and soon they were hopping around the zoo, trailing litter bags behind them, some black, some green. Sometimes one of them would try to put a crisp packet or a sandwich wrapper inside a green bag, and Mr Grabber would yell. “Oi, you, that monkey! Only tickets go in the green bag.“ And while the monkeys were working, Mr Grabber tipped full bins of litter onto the ground and told them to sort out the tickets from the rest of the rubbish. After an hour and a half of litter picking, the monkeys claimed their reward, and Mr Grabber was as good as his word. He gave each of them a big tub of yellow ice cream. “And there will be more of that tomorrow evening,” he promised. After dark, Theo spoke to Fucious, the most respected old monkey in their tribe. “Oh wise one,” he said. “What is the meaning of Mr Grabber’s tidying and recycling? Is he a reformed man?” The silver haired monkey scratched his head. “It is indeed very puzzling. Perhaps even a man as selfish and greedy as Mr Grabber wishes to save the planet from a mountain of rubbish.” The next day, the Peters family joined the queue of visitors outside the zoo. Little Jack Peters said: “I want to see the monkeys and feed them chocolate through the bars so that they all go crazy like this,” and he did a little dance while he scratched himself under the arms. “That’s silly,” said both his sisters, quite unamused. When they reached the pay kiosk, Mr Peters asked to pay for two adults and three children. “That will be £125 sir,” said the ticket seller. “Oh dear,” said Mr Peters. “That is rather a lot. I don’t think I have enough money on my payment card.” “Sorry sir. The prices went up at New Year,” said the ticket seller. “Sorry kids,” said Mr Peters. “The zoo’s too expensive. We’ll have to go to the playground in the park. At least that’s still free.” As the dejected family started to leave, a lady came up to them and said: “Would you like some cheap tickets to the zoo? I bought some for my family in advance, but now Grandma has been taken ill and we can’t go. I’ll let you have five for 50 quid.“ Mr Peters knew a bargain when he saw it and gladly paid. But he didn’t know that the lady was Mr Grabber’s girlfriend, and she was selling the recycled tickets that the monkeys had picked up. It was Mr Grabber’s latest criminal scheme to make quick and easy money. The plot would have gone undetected, if Theo had not been watching from the top of the cage. His sharp eyes spotted what was happening just outside the entrance to the zoo, and he understood everything. That evening Theo tried to stop the other monkeys from helping Mr Grabber to recycle old zoo tickets. “Don’t do it. You are aiding and abetting a criminal scheme,” he told them. “No we’re not. Recycling is good,” said a monkey called Janice as she hopped out of the cage to join that evening’s ice cream gang. Once again, Theo climbed up onto the rock of the wise one in the centre of the cage, and he consulted Fucious. “Master, what am I to do?” he asked. “Stay calm, be patient, watch, and wait for inspiration to tell you what to do,” advised the old monkey. But Theo was not very good at staying calm and being patient. He was bursting with anger and fury: “I cannot stay here and watch Mr Grabber get away with it once again!” he said to himself.“I cannot stand living with this bunch of monkeys who see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil even when it is taking place right in front of their noses. I must get out of here. I must escape!” He fumed for another 24 hours until Mr Grabber once again opened the cage and offered banana ice cream to the first six monkeys to report for litter picking duty. Theo made sure that he was first to swing out of the cage. He could smell freedom. But before he made his break for it, he quietly slipped his paw into Mr Grabber’s coat pocket and pulled out a key. Later, when everyone else was busy picking up litter as fast as they could, he climbed up a tree that reached over the wall of the zoo. Theo landed in the car park. He made for the red motor cycle which he knew belonged to Mr Grabber. He hopped on board, and looked around for the ignition. When he found it, he fumbled to get the keys into the slot. Mr Grabber was running from the zoo gate. His girlfriend opened the door of a van where she was waiting, jumped out, and came running towards him from the other direction. She almost managed to grab hold of Theo just as the motor cycle’s engine burst into life. Theo let out the clutch and the bike went shooting forward. He was accelerating like a bullet straight for Mr Grabber who had to dive out of the way. “Quick, get the van,” called Mr Grabber. And his girlfriend ran back to where it was parked. Soon they were out on the street – they saw Theo shoot through some red lights, causing cars to swerve and hoot madly. “He won’t get far like that,” said the girlfriend. “But what about my bike? He’ll smash it up for sure.” said Mr Grabber sadly. It was no use chasing. Theo was soon out of sight. Theo seemed to know how to ride the bike instinctively. “I must have been a motor cyclist in a previous life,” he thought to himself gleefully, as he dodged round an oncoming police car. He could hear the wailing of sirens, but they soon faded far behind him. As he chugged up a side road more slowly now, he saw something that filled him with anger. A woman was walking along holding the hand of a small boy, who skipped beside her, trying to avoid the cracks in the pavement. Two youths ran up behind her. One pushed her over, and the other grabbed her handbag. The boy screamed “Mummy!” The muggers ran down the street, and they moved even faster when they heard a motor bike revving up behind them. Perhaps you can imagine the terror that one youth felt as a hairy paw grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the ground. The motor bike skidded round. The monkey jumped off and grabbed the hand bag. A tug of war ensued, the monkey pulling one way, the youths another. A police van pulled up and six officers jumped out and slapped handcuffs on the monkey and the youths. As the police officer helped the woman to her feet, she said: “Officer. That monkey helped me. He was rescuing my handbag.” “Sorry Madam. I’m afraid he’s a notorious criminal, escaped from the zoo. There’s been a call out on all police radios for him. Fits the description exactly he does.” ‘But he’s a good monkey,” cried the boy. But the police could not hold Theo for long. He was the Harry Houdini of monkeys. Even as the officer spoke, Theo was wiggling his hairy wrists out of the cuffs. Before a policeman could shout “Stop that Monkey!” he was on his motor bike and racing down the street. “Hurray!” called the small boy. “He’s escaped!” By the next day, pictures of Theo’s face were in all the newspapers and on all the television broadcasts. Overnight he had become by far the most notorious monkey in the country, if not the world. He hid the motor bike in the park, because he knew that if he continued to ride it, he would run into a police road block sooner or later. He hopped over the rooftops of the town, wondering what fate lay in store for him. His stomach complained bitterly of hunger. He could see a fruit store holder down at street level. “Oooo! those bananas and apples look so delicious,” he thought to himself. “I could just hop down and pick up some. But oh, I don’t have any money. And it’s wrong to steal. I don’t want to be a criminal like Mr Grabber, even if the police say that’s what I am.” But he was so hungry, that he found himself somehow drawn down to the ground, and towards the store. He stared with a starving look at the bananas. “Hey you’re that monkey,” said the store holder. Theo didn’t run away. He just looked at him, almost ready to give himself up in return for some food from the prison kitchen. “You’re the one they call the “Vigilante Monkey,” went on the store holder. “You’re doing a great job. The public’s right behind you. Here, have a banana, take a whole bunch. Take two bunches.” Theo expected a trick, and as he crept forward he was on the look out for the gleam of handcuffs, and he half thought he could hear the sound of sirens. But there was no trick. The store holder did give him the bananas, as well as a bag of apples, and a bunch of grapes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” he said. “Now be on your way, and mind you don’t get caught. This city needs you.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn49.txt b/text/sn49.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..4b4f34c672e8d38debeb13421d8b060621619d9d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn49.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Football fans, at last here’s a story for you! This story is set at the local football stadium. We are talking here about the beautiful game which the world plays – not the USA sort of football – sorry Storynory listeners in America, we love you, but we only understand this type of football. Yes, if you enjoy funny action packed and slightly silly stories, you will love this. Our hero, who is unjustly wanted by the police, is once again solving a crime. Could it be that the matches at the local football stadium are fixed? Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Bertie says – on the controversial subject of sound effects, I felt we couldn’t have a story about a football match without some crowd sounds. It just seemed like an obvious thing to include. We have done our best to make sure that the FX don’t clash with Natasha’s voice, and they only come in towards the end. We hope you will think we’ve struck the right balance this time. Hello, This is Natasha, and this is a story about somebody we haven’t heard from for quite a while – Theo the crime-fighting monkey. Deep in the archives of Storynory.com – on the Original Stories Page – you will find some tales about a monkey who stands up for justice. When we left him last, he had escaped from the zoo and the clutches of his arch enemy, Mr Grabber, who is always up to some no good criminal tricks. In the early days after Theo escaped from the zoo, he was spotted all over the city. Sometimes a child would point from a push-chair and say: “Look, look Mummy, there’s a monkey swinging on a street light! Look Mummy!” And Mummy would say, “Not now dear, I’m on the phone,” before adding: “Oh my gosh, that monkey looks quite real!” And her friend on the phone would say: “Hey that sounds like the vigilante monkey,” because that was what the papers called Theo. Less often, because it was more dangerous from the point of view of being caught by the police, Theo would get on his motorbike and weave in and out of the traffic. That really would cause a racket. The drivers would hoot their horns as they saw him whizz past. Eventually you would hear sirens wailing and the police would give chase, but Theo was too quick and too agile, and knew how to escape through the narrow gaps between the cars. You may recall that Theo had stolen the bike from Mr Grabber, the head zoo keeper, but that was okay, because Mr Gabber was a criminal. Now that Theo was a free monkey, he could do all sorts of things that he had always wanted to do, like going to the play ground and to try out all the swings and climbing frames, or joining in a game of football in the park. Kids were always happy for him to play in goal because he was able to swing, jump and dive for the ball better than anyone they had ever seen. He found that he liked football quite a lot. When there was a big match on at the stadium, Theo would be sitting up somewhere on the roof of the North Stand, cheering on the city’s home team with cries of: “Oooooo … oooooo …. AAAh… AAAHH.” He became so well known that some of the supporters started to dress up in monkey suits. When he chanted they would join in and bang drums and blow trumpets. Somebody gave Theo an orange and blue scarf and a woolly hat to match the team’s colours. The season started well for City, and they were in second place in their league, chasing promotion up to the top division. But not every game went their way. They lost the quarter final of the Planet TV Knock-Out-Cup on penalties. And in a Derby match against their arch-rivals, the Rovers, their goalie missed a crucial save by a finger tip. “Oooooooh he should have got that one!” howled Theo from up on the roof of the stand. And not one of City’s supporters would have disagreed with their monkey mascot. At every football match, there is always an army of policemen on the streets outside the stadium to keep order among the crowds. As Theo was a most-wanted ape, after the final whistle went, he used to hang around the stands for a while until the police had gone. He liked jumping over the now empty seats and on this occasion he even hopped onto the pitch, and swung from the goal posts. “If only I had been in goal, I bet I could have saved that shot,” he thought. “And then we would have won 2-1 instead of getting a measly draw.” While he was hanging thoughtfully by one arm, an athletic young man in a tracksuit came out of the players’ tunnel and started jogging towards him. Theo recognised him as the team captain. “Hey, Mr Monkey, the manager wants to meet you,” called out the captain. Theo wondered if this was a police-setup, but curiosity got the better of his animal brain. When he started to follow, the captain said reassuringly: “No need to worry. We all love you as our monkey mascot. Nobody here is going to turn you over to the cops.” First they went to meet the players, who all cheered him when he came into the changing room and they crowded round to pat his hairy head. Then Theo and the captain went up to the Manager’s office, which had a big glass window overlooking the pitch. The manager was a heavy-set man with lank grey hair, shifty little eyes, and a red jowly face. He did not really look like he belonged to the world of sport at all, but in his youth he had played with distinction on the pitch. “Ah Theodore”, said the manager as the ape came into his office. He was one of the few people who called the fugitive monkey by his real name these days. “What’s your poison? Tea, water.. champaign?” Theo pointed to the jug of water. “You understand English, of course?” Theo nodded. He helped himself to a piece of sugary Turkish Delight from a box on the table, and swivelled to and fro on the chair. The manager waved his hand. “Okay, you can leave us now, Joey.” And the captain went out. Now the Manager and the monkey were alone together. ‘Good match, eh? Pity about that last goal.” Theo pulled a pained expression saying: “ooooh–aahhh” as he relived the excruciating moment when the shot that should have been saved slipped past the goal line. “I’ll come straight to the point,” said the Manager, leaning across the table: “Football is a game of 90 minutes and two sides who go out to give their utmost, because that’s what we owe to the fans. At the end of the day, there are only three outcomes, either you win, or you lose or you draw. There’s no secret about winning – you need 11 players out there on the pitch, and to speak frankly, today there were only 10.” Theo, who was not used to football-manager-speak, found this all hard to follow and he scratched his head. “You don’t get what I’m driving at, do you? – What I’m saying, in plain monkey-talk, is – Robbie our goalie let that last one in on purpose. There’s no other explanation for it.” And Theo suddenly understood exactly what he was talking about. He jumped up and down in his seat and made apish sounds to show that he was in full agreement. “Yeah, glad you’re seeing what I’m seeing,” said the Manager. “Now the papers say you are a crime fighting monkey, a sort of private detective, right? Well I want to hire you and I’ll pay you in bananas or whatever food you want for so long as I’m Manager here. All you’ve got to do is take this video recorder” – he opened up adrawer and pulled out a compact little machine – “and get the evidence. You can do that right?” As sure as nuts are nuts – this was the job for Theo. There was nothing that he wanted more than to prove that the goalie had deliberately thrown the match. Theo left right away to start work. There was no time to lose, as the players would soon be leaving. He perched on his motorbike, just outside the car park, and waited for Robbie the goalie in his yellow Porsche. As the slippery fingered sportsman drove out with a roar of his engine and a screech of his tyres, Theo released the clutch on his bike. He had to keep some distance behind the Porsche so as not to be seen, but fortunately it was a dark and rainy evening and visibility was poor. The sleek yellow car revved impatiently at traffic lights and cut arrogantly in front of other vehicles, but Theo had no problem keeping up. In fact, they were heading for a part of town that he knew only too well. It was the region north of the park where the zoo was. “Could it really be? Could it really be?” thought Theo. But in truth, he wasn’t so surprised when the Porsche pulled up outside the gates of the zoo. After all most of the big crimes in the city led back to one man – Mr Grabber, Theo’s former keeper. Theo knew all the ins and outs of the zoo’s perimeter wall, and it was an easy matter for him to be waiting in the shadows near the head keeper’s office by the time the goalie arrived. He had his camera against the window as he saw the men meet and chat on friendly and familiar terms – you might say that they were two of a kind – a zoo keeper and a goal keeper – both as slippery as each other. Theo filmed Mr Grabber counting out a large sum of money and handing it over to the goalie. “Finally, I’ve nailed you both!” he thought. He could almost cry with joy! He had the proof that Mr Grabber was paying the goal keeper to throw the match. He could not understand why, in his monkey brain, anyone would want to do that, but he knew that it was wrong. Little did he know that Mr Grabber was running an international betting ring, and that there were even bigger sums of money at stake for those who could correctly predict the result of the match and the final positions in the football league. That night, at his hideaway in the park, Theo could hardly sleep. He was so excited. He was due to meet the football Manager on Monday morning at the stadium. He would hand over the video he had taken, and surely the police would have all the evidence they needed to arrest both the goalie and Mr Grabber. But it did not quite work out that way. Theo was again sitting with the Manager, who had now had the video recording, but far from being overjoyed, he let out a long whistle as he played the tape. Then he got up, and stood with his hands in his pockets, looking out of the big window at the players who were training on the pitch. Eventually he sighed and said: “You’ve done well my son, or should I say, my monkey.” But Theo was puzzled, because he had been expecting him to whoop with triumph. “Now I really have got a plateful of problems,” he said. “If the fans get to know that our matches have been fixed, there will be no end of trouble for the club. We’ll have to hush this one up. I’d just love to drop Robbie like a stone, but our reserve keeper has strained his back. What shall I do? Take that as a rhetorical question, seeing as you’re a monkey of course. No need to answer.” But in fact Theo did have the solution in the palm of his paw – if only they would let him put his plan into action. A few minutes later, he left the Manager’s office with a rucksack full of fruit, but instead of skipping off home, he went down to the pitch where the players were practicing corner kicks. The goalie was making some good saves, but of course he was always great in training. The players stopped to laugh as Theo bounded onto the grass, and jumped up to swing from the crossbar of the goal. The trainer blew his whistle and waved for the monkey to leave, but Theo turned and bore his teeth at Robbie with an angry snarl.” “Oooh, err, he looks like he might bite me,” said the keeper, who stepped away. “I think he wants a go in goal,” laughed the captain. “Well since we can’t shift him, we might as well play on,” said the trainer and blew his whistle. The winger booted the ball in from the corner, and one of the mid-fielders headed it towards the top corner of the net. He was sure it would go in, especially as the keeper was sulking away from his goal mouth. But he wasn’t counting on a hairy foot that swung over in trice and kicked the ball clear. “Good save APE!!” called out the captain. The team tried another corner. This time Theo caught the ball with a dive. “Robbie wouldn’t have got a finger to that one,” said the right back. The players thought this was all a great lark and a break from the routine of Monday morning training. But up in his office, the Manager was watching everything from his window, and he was taking it all very seriously indeed. The following Saturday, City were playing away and they lost by a single goal. Theo did not see the match, but he suspected that both Robbie and Mr Grabber were richer for it. The next week they were playing back at home again. When the team was announced, a mystery name was among the reserves – Theo Simian. Some of the fans realised that this must be the side’s notorious monkey mascot, and they thought that he was included merely as an apish jape. There were loud cheers when they saw their favourite ape bounding up and down the side of the pitch in an orange and white shirt. The stadium speakers played the 1960s song: “Hey Hey we are the monkeys” and there were cries from the crowd of “”THEEEEE-OOO-OOOOh!!!”” Of course the match began with eleven normal players, including Robbie in goal. The first part wasn’t massively exciting. Some of the fans looked at their phones. Then suddenly there was a scramble in front of the goal, and City’s team scored. Their supporters were on their feet. The stadium went wild. Everyone had forgotten about the monkey japes. But the joy wasn’t to last. By the end of the first half, the score was one-all. Robbie had let in a goal, but nobody could really blame him, because it had been such a spectacular shot. During half time, Theo was again seen jumping up and down in his orange shirt. There were some policemen in the stadium who would have dearly liked to slap the handcuffs on his wrists, but they did not dare incase they started a riot. Fifteen minutes into the second half, City scored again, and now they were one goal up. If they could hang onto their lead, the match would be theirs. But the visitors were in no mood to give up, and were fighting back hard. Their striker had a great shot at goal but it hit the post. Ten minutes from the end, the atmosphere was almost too tense to bear. The ball stayed among the visitor’s feet, and kept on searching for the home team’s goal. City’s defenders managed to boot it clear twice, but each time it went back to the opposition. The supporters were too agitated to sing in harmony – their hoarse voices yelled out instructions to the players like each one of them was the Manager. In the backs of everyone’s mind was a single, overwhelming question: There were just five minutes of injury time left to play when the loud speakers announced a substitution. Robbie was going off, and Theo was coming on. Surely there must be some mistake? Had the Manager lost his head? A monkey was to play in goal? The stadium was filled with the sound of 20,000 voices booing their loudest. The visiting fans were jeering in contempt. Theo swung from the top goal post and focused on what he had to do. The home team were dejected by the crowds reaction to their monkey-substitution. It was like playing in a circus! Before they had time to collect themselves, the visiting team broke through and their centre forward struck the ball perfectly – it had spin, it had curve, it was destined for the top corner of the net – but “Woooooooh” the keeper was flying to meet the ball with his hairy arms outstretched. His strong claw nicked the sacred sphere and deflected its flight path. In an instant, the boos gave way to cheers. Despondency turned to joy. There was celebration in the home stands. The atmosphere was electric. The chants of “Theeee–ooooo” were louder than thunder. The players hugged one another. Even the losing side had to give it up for the monkey who saved the match. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn5.txt b/text/sn5.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fb0edf719e2d33a804060ec883d4ce6f83f46342 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn5.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Story by Bertie. 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: 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 on 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 lines in front of all the parents and governors – not just any old wrong lines – but really stupid ones – 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 heated 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 quiet 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 done. 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 Matthew. Next it would be Nathan and then it would be Paul. Katie wasn’t supposed to do spells at school, 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 she 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 when 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 things go 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 to 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 people like them, 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. Paul’s mum answered and she heard her call up the stairs: “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. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn50.txt b/text/sn50.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..41cb99baf02c7dac355a713abc6edab43fd5f522 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn50.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This chocolate-crazed story should get you in the mood for an Easter-egg hunt Look out for a surprise-guest appearance from a famous fluffy animal dear to the hearts of chocolate-lovers everywhere. Jim is one of the very few boys on earth who doesn’t like chocolate. When Aunty Judith takes him to the zoo, she gives him a chocolate bar. Jim throws it to Theo the monkey – but little does he know what chaos and mayhem will follow from his kind gift. This is a story about a very unusual boy, and an even more unusual monkey. The boy was out of the ordinary as boys go, because he didn’t like chocolate. No, not at all. Not even one little bit. And I must say, I’ve never met a boy like that. Not in my entire life. And the monkey was unusual because he absolutely adored chocolate – this particular monkey went absolutely bananas for it – and as you may guess – very few monkeys are mad about chocolate, if only because, they’ve never even tasted it. The boy was called Jim. “Poor little thing!” she said to herself. “His mum won’t buy him chocolate because she’s too mean. But I’ll buy him a nice lovely bar and give it to him while we are out.” And that’s what she did. Only it was true. Jim really didn’t like chocolate. “Oh thanks Aunty Judith,” he said when she gave it to him. “That’s really kind of you. I’ll just save it for later, if you don’t mind.” The giraffes had lovely soft noses. The snakes in the snake house made Jim’s blood turn cold – but he liked being scared really – just a bit. “Thanks for the chocolate Aunty Judith,” he said. “It was delicious.” And Aunty Judith thought, “Such a mean mummy not to give Jimmy chocolate. He loves it. Obviously.” But it was Theo who was in love with chocolate. It went straight to his stomach, and then straight to his brain, and soon he was swinging from around the climbing frame of his cage like a mad, mad monkey. “Ooo oooo Ah Ah!” he said at the top of his voice for the next hour and a half. And the keepers and all the other monkeys thought he had gone crazy. Which he had. He was crazy for chocolate. But when the chocolate high wore off, Theo felt really, really down. Have you ever felt like that when you’ve eaten too much chocolate? First it makes you really happy, and then later, you feel a bit sad. Well that’s what happened to Theo. And all the next day he sat in his cave thinking to himself: “Poor poor me. Now I’ve tasted chocolate, I’ll never be happy again.” The keepers noticed that he had gone off his bananas, and they worried that he was pining away. One of them thought that he must be in love, and that a girl monkey had turned her nose up at him. Another thought was he was sick, but the vet couldn’t catch Theo because he started to swing away. But Theo didn’t. Soon he was heading for the turnstiles, which were meant to stop people coming in without paying. As Theo was jumping over them, he saw a boy in the queue eating a fruity chocolate bar – he grabbed that and made his way down the street. The boy was too startled to cry. He just said: Theo gobbled down the stolen chocolate, and now he was on a high. He headed straight for the shopping centre – not because he knew that chocolate was there – but he sensed it. The Emergency Services started to get lots of strange calls. They’re the people you call when something terrible happens – like a fire, or an accident, or a theft. First of all a little girl called and said that a monkey had stolen her chocolate. The woman who took the call told her to stop mucking around and wasting time or she would get a visit from a policeman. But then, the owner of a corner shop called and said that a monkey had rushed into his shop and rushed out again with an arm full of nutty coco-bars. And then a gift shop rang to say that somebody had stolen several pounds of hand-made Belgium chocolates. And the head of the supermarket grocery store rang to say that a monkey was swinging over the shelves, knocking tins, jars, and bottles of milk all over the place, and generally creating mayhem. “I don’t suppose you believe me,” he said sadly. “But you can hear the noise. Those are my customers. Some of them are screaming and others are laughing.” “Oh yes, I do believe you” said the telephonist at the Emergency Services. “And I can tell you now that he’s heading straight for your chocolate shelves.” Which of course he was. Now the situation was becoming serious. The police set up a special Incident Centre, which is what they do when something really, really bad happens. And Chief Inspector Clews put twenty officers on the case, and told every patrol car and policeman on the beat to look out for a monkey on the loose. The local television news had pictures of all the chaos caused by Theo, and interviews with children whose chocolate had been stolen. The television reporter said: “This disaster could not have happened at a worse time. Easter is on its way, and shopkeepers say it is too dangerous to put out Easter Eggs. Our children may have to go without chocolate this Easter.” The Mayor was so furious that he called up Chief Inspector Clews and told him that he was bad at his job and that he couldn’t even catch an escaped monkey. And Chief Inspector Clews didn’t like that. So he decided to set up a special trap. First he got a special cage with an automatic door, and filled it with chocolate bars. He left it in the middle of the park, because he guessed that Theo was hiding there -which he was. But Theo wasn’t stupid. He saw the policemen bring the cage, and he knew that it was a trap. Instead he climbed into the back of a supermarket lorry just as it was unloading. That time, he got away with a whole cardboard box full of chocolate bars. Then the police were armed with tranquilizer guns which fired special darts to make Theo go to sleep. But it’s hard to hit a fast-swinging chocolate-charged monkey, and they couldn’t shoot Theo. The Easter Bunny decided to go and have a word with Theo. He knew where he was hiding in the park, because he had often smelt chocolate around a certain hollow tree. He went there and called out: “Hey you! What do you think you are doing spoiling everything for the little children?” Theo looked out, and saw the bunny. He wasn’t afraid of a little fluffy bunny rabbit, and so he came out to talk to him. “How can I go around hiding Easter Eggs when I know at any moment you might come along and steal them? Stealing is wrong, and even a monkey should know that.” And that night Theo couldn’t sleep because his conscience kept on telling him that the bunny was right. Stealing is wrong. So the next day he went back to the zoo and surrendered. Everyone was ever so surprised to see him. But he sat in his cage looking ever so sad, because he thought he would never ever eat chocolate again. In fact, he thought he would die without chocolate. He also brought a special supply of Easter Eggs to Theo. And he brought eggs to Theo every Easter after that, so that all year long he had something to look forward to. And then, even Theo realized that you can’t eat chocolate all the time because you’ll get fat, and then you won’t be able to keep swinging from tree to tree and go “ooo oooo aaah aaah.” So it’s much better to keep it for a special treat. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn51.txt b/text/sn51.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c7ae0a0f921623064579e9763d627b0008ff6f7c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn51.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio Click picture to enlarge. Introducing Mandy, Laura and Sam - the three members of the latest chart topping girl band, the chiX. This is the story of how it all began, before they were famous. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Have you ever wanted to be lead singer in a band? I mean, have you ever picked up an old cardboard toilet roll, held it to your mouth, and pretended that it was a microphone? Or have you ever found yourself tapping out a beat on the kitchen table with a couple of felt-tip pens? Or come up with a great new dance in front of the mirror? I bet you have because almost everyone has… Everyone except Gladys. She had never done anything like that. She was much too clever to mistake a toilet roll for a microphone. But her three older sisters had all done it. Their names were Mandy, Laura and Sam, and all three of them loved dancing, and while they were dancing, they secretly imagined that they were on TV and everyone was watching them. They also dreamed what it would be like to be really, really famous. When they went to school, the kids on the bus would say: “Hey girls, you were great on TV last night.” Only they probably wouldn’t go on the bus to school anymore. The record company would give them a black stretch limo as long as the street and with dark windows. That’s how they would go around once they were famous. One Saturday night, all four sisters were squashed together on the couch watching the Eurovision Song contest. If you don’t know what the Eurovision Song Contest is, that’s probably because you live in Mexico or somewhere twenty time zones away from Europe. In fact Gladys remarked: “I wish we lived somewhere like Mexico or Alaska, and then we wouldn’t be able to watch this trash.” But Laura said: “I expect all the Mexicans watch it on the Internet.” And Gladys had to admit that she hadn’t thought of that, because although she was the brainiest, she couldn’t always think of everything. Well Mandy, Laura and Sam liked watching it – There was a Danish man dressed up as woman, a Norwegian flamenco dancer, and a rugged Moldovian with blond hair extensions. They were just funny. The only band really worth seeing was from Ukraine. The singers were three beautiful but mean-looking girls with straight black hair falling over their white faces. “You know what?” Said Mandy. “I bet we could do that. We could be just as good as them, and be on the Eurovision Song Contest. In fact, I bet we could win it.” “Only the UK never get any points,” said Gladys. “Well neither can they,” said Mandy. “Besides, Laura has a great voice. Everyone says so.” Gladys still thought it was a silly idea so she said: “But Laura wears a tracksuit and gold bangles, even when she’s going out with her boyfriend. You can’t dress like that if you’re on TV.” “Well, said Mandy, “when we’re famous, all the top designers will send us free gear, so Laura won’t have to wear a tracksuit unless she feels like it, like when she wants to go shopping and not get noticed by all the fans. Beside, you aren’t in this band, because you’re too young.” “And too geeky,” added Laura. Gladys hadn’t really thought about being in the band, but when they said that she wasn’t in it, she felt, well, a bit left out. It wasn’t fair. She could play the piano. If anyone was going to form a band, it ought to be her. “Well at least I know how to read music, which is more than any of you lot,” she said. “So you’ll have to have me in your band because you won’t know what tune to sing.” Laura scoffed: “Ah come off it who’s ever heard of a band that knows how to read music? We’re not the church choir! Now go and play computer games like a good little geek, while we get ready to be famous.” “Yeah go on G-lady,” said Sam. “Stop annoying your older and better sisters. You aren’t in the band anyway, and it’s time to tuck your dollies up in bed.” It was particularly annoying when Sam spoke like that, because she was born only a year and a half before Gladys, but she looked a lot older, especially when she put on make-up, so somehow people took her more seriously. “I haven’t got any dollies,” said Gladys as she left the room, “unlike you darling Samantha. You’ve still got six! Besides, your band hasn’t even got a name – so it’s not a band at all. Goodnight.” On Sunday afternoon, Gladys spent a lot of time on her homework, because she was working on a big project about Ancient Egypt and she had to research the pyramids on the Internet. Her three older sisters watched the music channel on TV and tried to copy some of the dance routines.” Later that evening, they were still talking about what to call their girl band, because it wasn’t easy to come up with cool name. “How about the Smith Sisters?” Said Mandy. You see, their name was Smith. “Boring!” Said Laura. “Or the Teddy Girls?” Suggested Sam. Because they lived in a place called Teddington. “Too babyish,” said Mandy. Dad was there for a while. He had got wind of this idea about forming a band – though nobody had actually told him about it. He said, “How about the Rich Girls?” Because he was hoping that they would pay for his retirement. The girls took no notice of him, however - they never did, so he went out to the front drive to fix his motorbike, which was how he usually spent Sunday evenings. While they were talking, Gladys had been trying to imagine a name that both sounded good, and looked good when it was written down – like on a poster or an album cover. When the others went quiet, she said: “I think, “chiX, spelt with a small c and a big X, because it’s a Chick Band and X looks like a kiss.” “Yeah, or like, “Leave me alone,” which is cool,” said Laura. “But I bet there’s already a girl band called the chiX because it’s too good.”', "Mandy searched iTunes and YouTube and she couldn’t find any other band with that name. They couldn’t think of anything else, so their name just sort of became 'chiX.' But somehow they didn’t quite remember that it was Gladys who had come up with it. It was just like they had always been the chiX ever since they were born.", 'Now all they needed was a song - but of course they didn’t have one. A week went by and the chiX almost got forgotten. Then next Saturday, when Dad came home from the football match, he said: “Hey girls, how’s your band going. Have you got a gig fixed up yet?” “Of course they haven’t got a gig,” said Gladys. “They haven’t even got a song.” “Oh go on Mandy, do sing it to me, pretty please. I’m sure it’s such a lovely song,” said Gladys. And Mandy looked annoyed. “Well don’t cry. I’ll write you some words.” “How could you write the lyrics for a song?” asked Laura. “You don’t know anything about relationships. You’re too young.” “Can anyone really tell the difference?” Asked Gladys. But that gave her an idea to work on. So she went up to her room, sat down at her desk and scribbled down a few ideas. Later she came to the living room and switched off the television. Her sisters started to say: “Ah come on Glad, what was that for?” But she took no notice. She stood in front of TV and read out her words: “Not bad,” said Laura, “but sharp doesn’t rhyme with heart.” “Well what do you want it to rhyme with? Harp? Besides it’s an internal rhyme, and I’ve got a chorus… \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn52.txt b/text/sn52.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9293826f9b086f3c843b97c5e520b6a3614f2873 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn52.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio Click picture to enlarge Read by Natasha. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. One Saturday morning, Mandy and Laura were sitting around the kitchen table drinking coffee and having an argument. Mandy thought that she ought to be the leader of the chiX, because she was the oldest, and more importantly, she was the best at getting things organised. Laura thought that she should be the leader because she had friends in the music business. “Kevin isn’t in the music business,” said Mandy. “He’s just a loser who sweeps up in a recording studio.” “That’s just like you,” said Laura, “You won’t give anybody any credit unless it’s yourself. Kevin’s a studio producer and a musical whiz-kid.” “Well just because you met the guy at a bus stop doesn’t mean that you’re a musical genius too,” said Mandy. “Yeah, but I’ve got contacts. Besides, Kev said I’ve got a great voice.” “Yeah, but Kev says that to all the girls. Besides, what this band needs is somebody to call the right shots and make the right decisions.” “Exactly, that’s why I should be leader,” said Laura, “because I know more about the music business than you do.” Mandy pointed out that she was the one who had set up their web page on Myspace, and that Laura had been promising to ask her friend, Kev, for a recording session at his studio for two weeks now, and she still hadn’t fixed it. Laura said that was because Kev was super busy recording lots of big stars, and he was fitting them in for free as a special favour for her. Still, she decided to give him a prompt. She took out her mobile phone and sent him a text message: “Hey whiz-kid. Got time yet to give three gals a helping hand?” And Kev texted back: “Sure, next week’s looking good. Come over Tues.” So the chiX had their first recording session set up for three days’ time. When Gladdy heard, she pointed out that they didn’t have a tune for their song, let alone any backing music. “That’s Kev’s job,” said Laura. “He just presses some buttons on his recording desk and pulls some levers. He’s a genius at that sort of thing. He even made the Diamond Girls sound half decent.” Gladys tried to imagine the chiX turning up at the recording studio and asking Kevin to do everything for them. She thought it sounded a bit unlikely that he would just say: “Sure girls, here’s a number one hit single that I just wrote yesterday especially for you.” “If it was that easy,” she said, “everyone would be stars.” “Yeah, but not everyone is mates with Kevin,” said Laura. “Besides, not everyone’s got star quality like the chiX.” After school on Tuesday evening, the girls took the train up to London. Gladys came too, because although she wasn’t in the band, somebody had to look after her as she was still too young to be on her own at home. In fact, Gladys knew that she could look after herself better than the sisters, but that was how things were. When they got to London, they took the underground train to the station called Goodge Street, which Laura said was in the swanky part of town. In fact, when they got out it looked pretty grotty to Gladys. Keven’s studio was on the fifth floor of a tall office building. It was about the size of their bathroom at home. “Nice,” he said, when he had read them, “and what’s the music?” “Ah right,” said Laura, “we were kind of hoping that you’d help us out with that bit. Seeing as you’re such a whiz-kid.” Kevin blinked. Gladys could see that he was trying not to look too surprised. After a pause he said: “Right girls. Go behind the soundproof glass and put some headphones on. I’ll play you some loops, and we’ll see if we can build up a sound just for you.” Gladys knew that loops were some drum beats and other bits of music that were already recorded on the computer. They were called loops because they went round and round, and when you got to the end of say 30 seconds, the music started at the beginning again. She had been experimenting with some loops at home, and she had also been recording some music of her own using an electronic keyboard. After she had put the notes onto the computer, she could make them sound like almost any instrument. Kevin pressed a drum beat. [Music plays] “Too grungy,” said Laura through the microphone. “The chiX are kind of a bit funkier than that.” So Kevin let them hear something a bit more polished. [Music plays] “Not really,” said Mandy. “The chiX are kind of a mix of different musical styles and influences, if you see what I mean.” “Yeah. Find us something that’s just right.” said Sam. So Kevin looked at the computer and scrolled through a few more tracks until he found one thing he thought they might like. “How about this one girls?” he asked. [Music plays] “Yikes! Are you sure your mate knows what he’s doing?” asked Mandy to Laura. She didn’t realise that the microphone was switched on and Kevin could hear her. Gladys thought she could see hot steam coming out of his ears. [Music plays] The sisters heard the music through their headphones and started to groove about. “Yeah, that’s more like it, Kev,” said Laura. “We could do something with that.” “Hey Gladdy, leave Kevin alone and let him get on with his job,” said Mandy. But Kevin replied that he was alright about showing Gladys how his mixing desk worked. Much later that evening, after quite a few tries, the ChiX made the first song of their career. And though they didn’t know it yet, the music was written by Gladys with only a little help from Kevin. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn53.txt b/text/sn53.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..8b07bad4adaa7e95bc397c66a692b5b12e3fd88b --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn53.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The chiX have to get up at 6am every morning to practice. They are becoming tired and grumpy, and Laura has a new influence in her life. It's becoming hard to hold the band together .", 'Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Picture by Tania. The day after their first concert, the girls were in a much better mood. As they were going on the bus to the shopping centre, Laura commented: “I think we were alright really.” “Not bad for our first gig,” agreed Sam. Gladys felt cross, because the girls hadn’t been saying that the night before. Then they had claimed that it had been a disaster and it was all her fault. Mandy saw her frown. “Cheer up Gladdy. We’re sorry we gave you the grots yesterday. You did a great job.” “Yeah, we were just stressed out with ourselves really,” added Laura, “because we set such high standards for the chiX. We only want to give the public our best.” And Gladys felt better because she wanted the chiX to give their best too. In fact, when they arrived at the shopping centre, the girls were feeling much happier, as if they already had a light sprinkling of stardust. They treated themselves to posh ice creams in tubs. They sat on a bench to eat them, and a couple of guys came along with ice creams too, and sat nearby. They both wore mod haircuts with long sideburns. Mandy whispered: “Hey, didn’t we meet those dudes at Em’s Party last week?” Laura nodded, because they had. One of them came over and said: “Hello again. Remember us? I know this is a bit sudden like, but I’ve got two tickets to see The Snouts tonight. My friend here is otherwise engaged. I wondered if one of you girls would do me the honour?" Sam said: “Sure I’ll come with you,” but his eyes were looking out from under his fringe straight at Laura. She checked her mobile phone, as if she hadn’t heard him, before saying: “Alright, but I’m only coming for the music. We’re musicians you see. I’ve got a professional interest.” “Alright,” he said. And they agreed to meet that evening. The next day Laura said the concert was great and that the chiX could learn a lot from The Snouts.', "On Monday, the chiX's manager, Arny, called up Gladys and said that the girls had made a good start, but the hard work was only beginning. They needed to build up an act with more songs in it, and to do as many gigs as possible to get “broken in.” As the chiX were back at school, they had to get up at six in the morning for rehearsals. The last time they had seen such an early hour was when they were flying to Ibiza – and then they got to the airport late and missed the plane.", 'Gladys sat up late writing songs, and then woke up early to get the girls out of bed. It was a very tired and grumpy girl band that met the backing musicians at 7.30 in the rehearsal room. By the end of the week they were able to dance and sing to two new songs almost without thinking. But their mood was terrible. On Saturday Laura went shopping on her own. When she came back she showed the girls her new outfit. She had bought new skinny jeans and an off the shoulder t-shirt with a large hipster belt. “Corr, check out the indie chick,” said Sam. “Well if the chiX are serious we can’t go around looking like a bunch of chavs,” said Laura. “We need style.” And that night she went out to another concert with the same guy as before. His name was Ming. The following Monday, when Gladys tried to wake up the girls, they went on strike and refused to get up. Gladys had to ring Arny and apologise. On Wednesday Gladys felt much better but Laura still looked tired at the rehearsal. Then Gladys realised that she had changed her make-up and had a dark smoky eyeliner look. She had also tasselled her hair. The girls read Gladys’ new song. Normally they didn’t comment much, but this time Laura said: “I don’t think we should be doing this girly kind of stuff Gladdy.” Gladys asked her what she meant. “Well I mean, this girl band thing is a kind of naff. Can’t you come up with something original and different?” “You mean to impress Ming?”asked Gladys. “What’s Ming got to do with anything? I mean like, we want people to take us seriously, don’t we? We don’t want to be another fizzy pop and bubble gum group do we? Like, the chiX are better than that, aren’t they?” Gladys felt totally frustrated. She looked around the room at the empty tea mugs, the electric cables strewn all over the floor, and the bored looking backing musicians. She thought that she should be just getting up out of bed and cleaning her teeth at this time. She recalled that she was behind with her school project. She hadn’t had time to read a book for weeks. She wondered if it was all worthwhile. Mandy said: “Come on. It’s a bit early for a heavy discussion.” And Sam said: “I thought we were a girl band.” And Gladys said: “Exactly. Don’t try to be something you’re not.” “Well you’re not a true artist,” said Laura. And she picked up her bag and stomped towards the door of the rehearsal room. Before going out she turned round and said: “In case you haven’t realised yet, I quit!” And she slammed the door. The girls were stunned. The backing musicians were smirking. Eventually Gladys said: “We’ll talk her round. Come on, let’s go through the song.” And they did their best, but it wasn’t the same without Laura. They forgot all about the journalist. They didn’t know that he had met Laura in the corridor. They only knew about the article the following Monday when Arny rang Gladys and asked: "What’s all this nonsense about the chiX splitting?” And he read out the article to Gladys: "ChiX Split! Newbie Girl band, the chiX, have split almost before starting. Heavily touted by top manger Arnold Layne, the chiX seemed set for a mega-bucks record signing. Lead singer Laura Cooper said: “I have left the chiX after creative differences with my younger sister Gladys. It was fun while it lasted. Now I just want to get on with my solo career.” “Are you cross?” asked Gladys. “Not really,” said Arny. “All publicity is good publicity. A short piece at the bottom of Page 25 is not bad for a band that’s only done one gig. Now get Laura back in the band, and we’ll start all over next week.” And Gladys thought that might work well in the tabloids, but even in reality, would Laura come back? And did she want her to? \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn54.txt b/text/sn54.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..3de8b258f0fb096af226cfe07d5c51b9252acdbb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn54.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Years ago we had a series about Gladys, a girl who was too young to be in her sisters' girl-band called the chiX. It was really, really popular.", "Well here's the BIG NEWS. Gladys is back ! ", "Now she's 16 and she's super ambitious to make it as a singer in her own right. But everyone, including her sisters thinks she's too geeky to be a popstar and should stick to her school books. ", 'Can she make it? Hello, this is Natasha, and I am here with some big celebrity news: Gladys, the heroine of our story about a girl band, is BACK! And she’s recorded five new songs which we shall hear in this series about her dream to become a pop singer in her own right. ', "Wow! If you like music, you'll simply LOVE this story. ", 'It’s been a few years since we gave you the Gladys and the chiX series, so let’s have a little catch-up. Our Gladys grew up in Teddington, which is a town on the Thames, just outside London. Her older sisters, Mandy, Laura, and Sam formed the girl band, the chiX, which had a string of hits before breaking up last year. The lead singer of the chiX, Laura, is enjoying a successful solo career and now lives in Los Angeles. Although Gladys was never in the band, because she was too young, she wrote their early songs before they were famous. Gladys is sixteen and has just finished her school exams, called GCSEs. Everyone expects her to go into the sixth form, and then to a top university. ', "So now you know everything you need to know about Gladys and the chiX. Were you one of the people who cried when the news came out about your favourite girl-band breaking up? No of course you weren't. You're not a big softy like that - but it was kind of sad. Quite a few fans blame Laura. They say she was only ambitious for her own glory; but the truth is that Mandy and Sam did not want to carry on with the constant touring, the responsibility to the fans, the press tittle-tattle, and the trending hashtags. They weren't even that good at singing and dancing. Laura was the one with the looks, the voice, and the talent. “Let her get on with being famous,” they said.", 'But what about Gladys? She still lived at home in Teddington with Dad. One Friday, towards the end of May, she stood in front of the hall mirror. She was about to head up to town to have a TV dinner with Mandy and Sam in Clapham. “Hey-ho, I’ll always be the little sis of the family,” she thought to herself, “but I’m not a child anymore. Nobody can tell me what to do with my life.” She applied a dash of bright red lippy and blew a kiss at her reflection. “Is my face pretty?” She thought. “Hmmm… Well yes - pretty ordinary, actually. But don’t be fooled, world. That’s only the way I look…” Later she sat on the train as it trundled past Berrylands, fragrant from the sewage farm that stood by the side of the tracks, then Wimbledon famous for the Wombles and tennis; next Raynes Park and the big Victorian undertakers’ shop that filled the view from the train window, and eventually to Clapham Junction, where a sign boasts that it is Britain’s busiest railway station. ', "She walked through the passenger tunnel, and onto the hilly High Street lit by headlights and shop windows, and buzzing with Londoners heading out for Friday evening. Her sisters' flat was a few streets away. It took up two floors of a white fronted old house. They had a garden at the back, but the evening wasn’t quite nice enough to sit outside.", '"So how did your exams go?" Asked Mandy as she cut the cellophane off the Vulcan Veggie pizza and turned the oven to 200 centigrade. "Don\'t ask silly questions,” said Sam. "If she didn’t get straight A’s, then her name’s not Gladys Cooper.” Gladys thought quietly to herself, “Well it isn’t anymore, because I’m changing my name.” "I\'ll find out in August," she said modestly. Most people would have been surprised if she had got anything less than A for everything - but she wasn\'t quite sure about her chemistry. "Are you looking forward to being a big girl win the Sixth Form?" asked Mandy. "No," said Gladys. "What do you mean \'no\'? It\'s far more fun in the Sixth. School stops being like a prison. You can hang around in the common room and you can go out at lunchtime. The teachers call you by your first name. There will be more parties. You\'ll meet more boys - older ones, not just the drips in your class." "I mean," said Gladdy, "That I\'m not going into the Sixth Form. I\'m leaving school." She had just dropped a bombshell, but it hadn’t quite exploded yet. "Like straight to Oxbridge University?" said Sam. “Oh Gladdy, you always were the smartest. “ But that wasn’t what Gladys meant. Her mouth was a little dry. She felt stressed saying this. It sounded a little brittle. "Not to any university or school. That\'s it, I\'m done with exams." Now she had dropped it good and proper - The bomb had gone off. Both her sisters were trying hard not to look shell-shocked. "So what are you going to do?" Asked Mandy. "Sing," said Gladys. Her cheeks went hot. However resolutely she spat out the word, it sounded reckless and silly. She knew what they were going to say next - They were going to say, "You\'re throwing your life\'s chances away. You don\'t want to sing; singing is a tough business. Take it from us, we know - we’ve been there, done that. You\'re far too smart. Get your exams first and then decide what you want to do." Actually, Sam and Mandy were so astonished that neither of them said anything for a while. In a way, their combined silence was more terrible than if they had actually started giving her the benefit of their elder sisters’ wisdom. Mandy chopped some extra mushrooms to put on the pizza. Sam set out the kitchen table with napkins and candles and chose some progressive rock for the music system. Then the flack began to fly... "You don\'t want to sing, really, do you?" Said Mandy. "Yeah, Gladys, you\'re throwing your life\'s chances away, you\'re far too clever to do a thing like that,” chipped in Sam. "But truly, all I want to do is sing," pleaded Gladys. Her precise premonition of what they would say had not helped her dream up any sassy and convincing replies. She had already told her teacher about her decision, and that had been an even more uncomfortable interview. She had felt the weight of her mentor\'s disappointment pressing down on her. Her father had been easier. He had said, "Are you sure Gladdy?" Then, "Well, you\'re a smart lass. Do what you think is best." That was the sum of his parental guidance and support. Well, he was busy at the time, sorting out his old vinyl record collection. But Mandy sounded far more like her teacher had done. "Get your exams done first, and then decide what you want to do, that\'s my advice,” she said; not mentioning that she herself had only lasted a year in the Sixth Form before being chucked out. The school didn\'t like lazy failures in exams - so they got rid of them before they had a chance to mess up their statistics. Gladys knew that if she followed the path everyone expected her to take, through the sixth form at school and then university, she would be 22 years old before she got started in life - and that was so grown up that it was ancient. You could never be too young to make it in music. Maturity and wisdom are weights around your neck in the stormy waters of pop. "I can see why you might feel envious," said Sam. "Your big sisters swan around the world enjoying fame and fortune while you stay at home with Dad and his motorcycle. But look, neither Mandy, nor I ever got that famous or that fortunate or that rich. We did all that work, and now all we can afford is this little flat in Clapham. That’s it! Laura’s the one who has all the attention because she\'s got long legs and a big mouth, and you can\'t ignore her. But you\'re not like that Gladdy. You\'re - well - clever, and nice, and a bit shy. I can\'t see you out there on the circuit, night after night, plastering your stage makeup on in the dressing room, squeezing into outrageous outfits, and prancing around with a radio microphone strapped to your head like you were some sort of alien. It\'s just not you Gladys." "How do I know?" Said Gladys, feeling upset, and wishing she could keep her cool. "I haven\'t tried yet." Sam pressed her phone and changed the music on the sound system. "Oh not that!" Exclaimed Mandy, as the first few bars of Laura\'s latest single began to play. ', "Their sister's voice wrapped out,", '"I\'m your queen, you love me mean. I’m the cruelest lover you’ve ever seen." Gladys hated those words. She reckoned the record company had given them to Laura to harden her image. Sam was actually twerking, pointing her rear end at Gladys. "Come on Glad,” she said, "I thought you wanted to do this." In her time with the chiX, Sam had a personal dance instructor, and she had learned some slick steps. Still, wriggling one’s bum, however skilfully done, never looks that dignified. Gladys had never been that comfortable dancing just normally. She remained seated in her chair. She sat there thinking, "They don\'t believe that I can sing my way to the top, but I will do it because I want to do it, and when I want to do something I set about doing it properly, and nobody or nothing can stop me." She caught the last train back to Teddington. It was full of office workers who had hit the pub at 6pm and were now slumped in their seats and in danger of sleeping past their stops. Some of them were plugged into headphones with the bass thumping louder than the clackety-clack of the train. "Are these the people who will download my songs?" Thought Gladys. "Will they have my voice playing in their heads? If this was a year from now, and if that guy sitting opposite opened his eyes, would he see me and know that I\'m Gladys? Would he know my songs, and my words, and my feelings that I had sung about, even though I wouldn\'t know anything about him? Is that what it means to be famous? To be known, but not to know those who know you? Hmm, perhaps he might even fancy me, even though he had never met me, wouldn\'t that be funny?" When she got home, she sat crossed legged on the bed and strummed her guitar. She found it soothing. She was more of a pianist really, and was just learning a few chords, but she felt that a singer-songwriter should be able to play the guitar, because it looked kind of clever and independent, and cute. She sang, "All I want to do is sing!" And a few minutes later, she reached over to the table for a pencil and paper, and scribbled down some words and some chords. Yes, she, Gladys, was going to stand up in front of the world and sing. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn55.txt b/text/sn55.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..24ba8bbc5c5f970a942c75e154ef87c8bd0ac9f4 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn55.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +We continue our new series about Gladys, the smart girl who wants to make it big in pop music. In this episode Gladys goes into the the studio to record her first song, All We Want to do is Sing. Chapter 1 is here. Gladys has a fantastic new album out on iTunes. You can download and keep her songs. Enjoy Gladys. Support Storynory ! When Gladys was ten years old, she had hung out in recording studios quite a bit. But hanging out was about the sum of it. She was on the boring side of the soundproof glass, in the part of the studio with all the knobs and dials. Quite often, her nose was in a book. Her sisters were on the fun side of the of the glass, where the action is, standing behind the microphones with their headphones on, singing and jiving, and making hit songs. In her heart, she knew that she was the one with the musical talent, not her sisters. They didn’t even work hard. They thought the world just owed them fame, and somehow, it gave it to them. It wasn’t fair, but Gladys learned early on that Fairness and Real Life are strangers to one another. The feeling that she was most familiar with was a big pang in the stomach, like an arrow, that said, “Hey Gladys, that should be you up there!” Her dad did need the money. Even Gladys could see that their house was in danger of falling down if they didn’t actually spend something on it. The main feature of the living room was a large crack in the wall above the French windows. The bath looked like it had been used as a sheep dip; the shower was broken, the kitchen belonged in a museum. Her sisters were richer than she was, but they were off touring the world; so she gave most of her money to her dad, and she didn’t miss it. Her mother kept on getting in touch and asking her for funds. She didn’t give her anything. After all, she had upped and left when Gladys was just three years old. Now she had just £800 in her account. If you judged by the standards of sixteen-year-old schoolgirls, not pop divas, well, she was practically rich. She knew how she was going to spend every single penny of it, however. She was going to buy time in a recording studio - on the right side of the soundproof glass. She found a music producer in Raynes Park, the place with the big undertakers that you can see out of the train window. Basically it was at the shabby end of Wimbledon. The door to the studio did not promise musical sophistication or technical wizardry. She eventually found it down an alley beside a Chinese herbal medicine shop. But that was okay, because music culture is meant to be a bit grungy. Tim the producer sat behind his mixing desk and flicked some switches, before he swivelled his chair round to face the keyboard of his electric piano. To be honest, he wasn’t quite the dude you might expect to find in the music business. In fact, he looked a bit like a male version of Gladys - sort of studious. His wife, who ran the business with him, was pretty, but nothing if not normal. In Gladys’ imagination, a girl who worked behind the scenes in the music business would probably dress a bit like a vampire, with dark mascara and blood red fingernails. Jennie wore a fluffy purple jumper. She brought them cups of tea. Her eyes were soft and sensitive. “Do you play?” Gladys asked her. “Yes; the oboe, the flute, the guitar and the ukulele. But mostly I do backing vocals.” “Great!” Said Gladys. Perhaps, she thought, she had found a kindred spirit. Tim looked through her music and put his fingers to the piano. "It might sound better here with eight bars instead of nine," he said. Gladys wasn’t sure at first. She was the one paying for this recording session, and that was how she had written it. But she soon saw that he was right. Eight or twelve bars is sort of the rule with pop music, unless you have a really good reason to do it otherwise. “And this key change here is a bit sudden,” he said. He played it a slightly different way, and it sounded a little more conventional, but actually more like a pop song than a quirky creation by a naive wannabe. She had to admit to herself, that perhaps she did not know quite as much about song writing as she thought she did. “But I am a quick learner,” she assured herself, as she watched Tim the song-doctor carrying out emergency surgery on her music. She glanced at the clock. As money was short, so was time. They had to get this masterpiece down for posterity before the next customer arrived. They tried out different beats and tempos on the computer, and changed a few notes here and there. She had been at “Jammy Dodge” studios for about twenty-five minutes and it was clear that she had found a producer who was not only a great musician, but also a great technician, and had a super-nice personality, and a super-talented wife. He was even quite good-looking. In fact, he was so nice it was almost annoying. ', "For the first time in her life, Gladys felt a little inadequate on the academic front. It seemed that university might not be such a bad path into the music business after all, but she could not dwell on that for long. It was time for her to go into the vocal booth and put on her headphones. Whoever had been singing in there previously must have been a giant, because the microphone towered over her head. Jennie adjusted boom down to her height. Tim nodded on the other side of the glass and spoke through the talkback: “Ready?” Gladys gave him the thumbs up. She heard the beat of the electronic drums through her headphones and Tim's intro on the piano. She opened her mouth and sang:", 'She could hear her own voice through the cans. It was kind of weird. Even though she was concentrating on her singing, she knew deep down that this was fantastic. The whole session was all about bringing her creation to life. She was the one doing the performing, not the one sitting on the sofa watching her sisters take all the glory. After a few takes, Tim was satisfied with the lead vocal track. Jennie took her turn behind the microphone for some backing vocals. They put down layer upon layer, experimented with different harmonies, higher and lower, and soon it was sounding like a whole choir. When the singing was all done, and she had left the studio, Gladys almost ran back to the station. Her legs were too excited to walk. She was bursting to hear the final mix, which Tim had promised to send her by the end of the week. It was quite late on Friday evening when she received the email with the download link. She clicked the mp3 on her computer, and sat back and listened to the first professional recording of her own voice: [Play up song] \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn56.txt b/text/sn56.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..ba9bbdb1b2873d861993e44f2120eea23eb6b4de --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn56.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +When Gladys sent an email out to a record exec, a reply usually shot back right away... unfortunately. Too often, it stated bluntly, "The address xyz @xyz.com has not been found”. She had met loads of movers and shakers when she was young - well actually she still was young - but when she was little she had gone around quite a bit with her singing sisters and she had always asked for business cards, because she was savvy like that, but she had spent the last few years just being a normal school kid. Her stock of contacts for producers, pluggers and promoters was out of date. She needed to put her song in front the right people. She worked hard at uploading her mp3 onto all the social music sites, and emailing it directly to recording companies and promoters. When her emails didn’t bounce, she assumed that they had landed on the right screen. She must have had about half a dozen chances out there. ', "She checked her email first thing in the morning. Two new messages were waiting for her - one reminding her that she hadn't logged on to a game-site for a while, “Your Pink Tomogo is missing you,” it mourned. The other was from her school about the last day of term. ", 'Eventually a reply from a record company turned up. Dear Gladys, Thank you for sending James O’Hara your mp3. As I am sure, you realise we receive hundreds of submissions each week, but we do listen to every single one. If we wish to take this further, we will let you know in due course. Yours, Mira Simons She read it two or three times. “Well perhaps they will get back,” she thought. Then, a voice in her head said, “Oh Gladys, don’t be so naive, it’s a polite brush-off letter. You’ll never hear from them again.” Back in the day, when the chiX were starting out, she used to work with Arny, their manager. She really missed him now. Arny had been born in the East End of London. His first job was pushing a tea trolley inside the office of a record company. He ran errands, showed willing, as well as a certain gift of the gab, and got himself promoted to the position of “plugger.” It was his role to chat up DJs on the radio and persuade them to play the company’s singles. Soon he was managing the publicity for some of the biggest bands of the 70s, in the days when rock stars had long hair and bad teeth and wore brightly coloured polyester jumpsuits. Gladys actually knew the names of the some of his clients, because they featured in her dad’s record collection. Nowadays he was the sort of self-made man who drove a pink Rolls Royce, actually, his was black and totally ancient, but it suited him. He had always looked after Gladys and treated her like a grown-up, even when she was little. Looking back, she wasn’t quite sure if he was just kidding her a bit, like grown-ups do with children sometimes… but no, even with hindsight, she didn’t think he was never less than on the level. He was genuine in his respect for Gladys and her gumption and her brains. But her desire to be a performer - well that was something else. Maybe he did not see her in that role. Of course, when she had the idea to quit school and be a singer, the first person she called was Arny. The office manager had said, “I’m afraid Mr. Blackstone has been taken ill.” “Oh dear. When will he be back?” Asked Gladys. “We don’t know. It could be some weeks.” That sounded worrying. “Can I, can I ask what’s wrong? I’m Gladys. He knew me quite well when I was little.” “He’s had a heart attack. He’s in Kingston Hospital,” came the reply. Nobody she knew had been seriously ill before… like in danger of dying… this was a first in her young life, and quite a shock. Now Gladys felt guilty because she had only visited him in hospital once. That time he had been quite cheerful, but really did look gaunt. She had wanted to cry, and did not feel like going back to see him again. By now, she thought, he must be getting stronger. It might do him good to talk about business. At any rate, he could give her a word or two of advice. She arrived at Kingston Hospital with chocolates and flowers. "Ah Gladys, it\'s like having an angel sitting on the end of my bed," said Arny, who still had so many wires plastered to his chest that he looked like an old-fashioned TV set with the back off. She thought that because her dad had one of those in his workshop. Gladys told him about her decision to leave school, and to try making it as a singer. She crossed her fingers, really hoping he would not give her the same lecture that everyone else had done. You know, the one about her being too smart to take a risk like singing for her supper, and that she should get her exams first. Were they passing a script around or something? Arny sat up and rearranged his pillow. "Well girl, I wish you luck, because the business has got a whole lot tougher over the past few years. It\'s a lottery. A tiny handful make mega bucks. They rest get squiggly pop. What do they call the lottery? A tax on the desperate, or the stupid. You’re neither of those, but you need to know the facts before you start down this road.” Gladys nodded. It was going to be tough. The only encouragement she had received so far was in an email from Laura in Los Angeles who had said, "Yeah girl, go for it," without actually offering any concrete help. Perhaps it was true what some people tweeted. Laura was out for herself, not her family or the fans. As for her other sisters, well they were discouraging her. Everyone thought she was throwing away her life’s chances. Gladys asked Arny if he thought she was crazy to give up a chance of a place at university. “Well I left school when I was fifteen, but plenty of those singers who pretend to be from the wrong side of the tracks got good educations. Where was it Mick Jagger went? London School of Economics, wasn’t it?” “Anyone more recent than that went to uni?” Asked Gladys. “Funnily enough, I was just reading an article about Paloma Faith… it’s on the side table… here it is. Says she has an MA in theatre direction from the prestigious Central Saint Martin’s College of Art and Design. Look Gladdy, there are many ways to go in life. Now let me see if I can work the phone for you. “', "Notices around the hospital warned everyone to keep their mobiles switched off, as they might interfere with the medical equipment, but of course, the real problem for Arny was he couldn't live without his phone. He sneaked it out from under the blankets and called a contact in a big record company:", '"Yeah, she\'s really smart, and she\'s known the business since she was ten years old," he was saying. ', "She could hear the voice coming back that the chiX had faded fast and were yesterday's sound. Laura's last single had struggled to get into the top 40 in the download charts, and the only reason the studio hadn't sacked her was because she was dating Simon Ferg of the Fergs and they didn't want to upset one of their biggest grossing stars.", 'Yes, it was going to be hard thought Gladys. In a strange way, her connection with the chiX was going to make it harder. Their time had come and gone. ', "Arny was the sort of guy it was hard to say no to. He was charming and persistent. He wasn’t above using the fact that he had a heart attack, and it would be rotten to refuse him when he was down, and in any case, he had all day and wasn't going to hang up until his friend had put a date in the diary to meet Gladys. ", 'In short, Gladys got her first meeting with a record company. Not bad going just two weeks after making her first demo. As a ten year old, she had been surprisingly cool headed and savvy about business. In fact, she was the one who sat up late reading her sisters’ first contract and pointing out the loopholes. But the funny thing was, now she was sixteen, everything was so much harder. The prospect of such an important meeting was starting to freak her out. How should she dress? Smart for a business, or cool for pop? First impressions are so important in a superficial world. What she needed to do was to strike an attitude - she knew that much, but however hard she tried, she always looked the swotty schoolgirl. How could she make them see that she was touched by destiny? She decided to dress smartly. She wore a white shirt and dark trousers. She would look like she meant business. Gladys arrived early at the music company’s office. She always liked to be ahead of time. It made her feel on top of things. The PA showed her into an empty meeting room with a big table, blinds on the windows, and the hum of air conditioning. A jug of water and a plate of biscuits waited on the sideboard. After forty minutes or so, three executives breezed in, two men and one woman. Cards were tossed across the table. She was shaking their hands. They seemed to be taking her quite seriously - they were young, but they had impressive titles like Account Manager, A&R Director, and Jnr Director of Marketing. The one who did the most talking was Dave. The woman, Susie, sat back and looked at Gladys in quite a hard, assessing sort of way. Jude, who was the most chilled of the three, was pleasant. "Have you brought a demo?" Asked Mike. "Ouch!" Thought Gladys, "They haven\'t even heard my track." Of course she had the song on her phone. You would think that a meeting room in a music business office would have some sort of sound system she could plug it into - and it did, but there did not appear to be the right connector, even though it was probably the most common one in the world. Fortunately, her phone had quite a good volume on the speaker. She played” All We Want to do is Sing,” and they sat back and listened. At the end, there was a painful silence. Dave looked at Susie. "It\'s quite eighties," she said. Was that it? It sounded like he didn’t have anything more to say. Gladys almost rose up from her chair to go. Unfortunately, they did have more advice. Susie glanced at Dave and then turned her head back to Gladys, "Don\'t take this the wrong way," she said, and Gladys felt like she wanted to bolt out of the door, because she knew that she was going to say something harsh, like on those TV Talent shows, where the real entertainment is watching the judges rip the wannabes’ ambitions into teeny-weeny shreds. "But are you sure you are cut out for this? You\'re obviously a clever girl with a sweet voice, but you need so much more. You need a look and a sound that\'s either totally original or totally in the moment. At any point, we are searching for a particular type of act that\'s hot in the charts right now. To be honest I don\'t think the 1980s is coming back anytime soon.” Gladys nodded. She almost said, “Thank you,” but stopped herself. Why should she thank someone for such a patronising put-down? She wasn’t going to fall into that trap. She wanted to cry, but she was determined not to give them that satisfaction. "It’s true that you could work on your image," said Jude, “and of course do lots of gigging to get experience. Tried and tested, that\'s what you need to be.”', "Dave said, “I hope we don't sound too mean. Perhaps if I give you couple of stats about the music biz, you will know where we are coming from. 74 per cent of mp3s in the online stores are downloaded less than 10 times. That's basically sales to mum, dad, a couple of aunts and a best friend. So quite frankly, almost everything does nothing. Zilch. On the other hand, 60 per cent of our revenues come from just five big artists with the company. Almost everyone new that we sign loses us money. So you see, it pays us to keep backing our winners. Signing new talent is a big risk.”", '"But without new talent, there’s no future," said Gladys. "Correct. So we are very serious about A & R.”', "Gladys looked blank. She didn't like to say she didn't know what A & R meant. She had actually heard the term, but wasn’t quite sure what it stood for. ", '“Artists and repertoire,” explained Jude. "It\'s what I do. I nurture the new talent. Like Dave says, we really care about the future, but at the end of the day, it’s a business, and we have to back winners or there will be no business, and nobody will benefit if that happens. Not the musicians. Not the fans. Not nobody.” "In two plain words," added Susie, "It\'s tough out there. Well that was four words, but four true ones.” Gladys had got the idea. Not only were they saying, “No,” but also they were saying, “Don’t even bother trying.” She left the office with tears in her eyes, not of disappointment, but fury. “What a patronising bunch of smug jobs-worthies!” She thought to herself. “It gives them some sort of perverted pleasure to smash risk-takers’ dreams while they claim their safe salaries. Well, my belief is stronger than that. I’m keeping it in tact.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn57.txt b/text/sn57.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b962e53b4694e3b4f79b39750ae3de8119fd6d48 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn57.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Gladys wants to perform in front of the world - but is her personality right? Is she extrovert enough? She feels that people don't even notice her - so how is going to be famous? Her doubts about herself remind her of a song she wrote a long time ago - Ghost Girl.", 'Hello, this is Natasha, and I’m here with the fourth episode on our series, Gladys is Back. This episode is quite short but very sweet, and has a cute new song so keep listening! At the age of ten years old, Gladys had feelings that were a little troubling in one so young: sometimes she felt just like she was a ghost. People seemed to look right through her. Nobody noticed that she was the talented sister. Now she was sixteen, she was sitting at her desk turning the pages of her old notebooks and she found her first draft of her song “Ghost Girl.” The sixteen-year-old Gladys thought, "So not that much has changed.” She was still the one with the talent, and yet still nobody seemed able to see it. "It\'s the way I look," she thought, "I\'m too ordinary.” Then, "Perhaps it\'s my body language, I don\'t walk into the room like everyone should notice me.” And, standing in front of the mirror for a while, "I need new clothes, I need new hair, I need a new face, I need a new personality, but apart from that I don\'t need anything much. Simple. I’ll be famous tomorrow." ', "“Ghost Girl” had been a hit when the chiX sung it. It irked her that they took the credit for that song, much more than it bothered her about “Life is a Circus” which she had also penned for them. You see, Gladys wasn't just the author of the words to “Ghost Girl,” she felt them, she identified with them. She was Ghost Girl. So she decided to record it. After all, it was her song. She had a right. ", 'Her second time in the recording studio was even better than the first. She knew the routine. Tim looked through her words and music and changed a few notes and chords - things that even the producer at the big studio had not touched when her sisters had done it. Jennie stood over their shoulder and said, "I remember this song, did you really write it when you were just ten Gladdy?” "Yes," said Gladys, "I did. Because I was the ghostwriter for the chiX. They were singing about me, only they didn’t really understand that.”', "Tim and Jennie were taking her really seriously. She felt it, and it gave her confidence. She wasn't just any teenage wannabe. She had written a song that had made it into the charts. When she went behind the soundproof glass, stood at the microphone and put her headphones over her ears, she felt like a real pro. She opened her mouth and sang, “Gho--ooost girl, goohoost girl.”", '"Sounding great,” said Tim in her headphones. ', "Jennie sang the harmonies again. Strictly speaking, Tim spent more time mixing the track than Gladys had paid him for, but he didn't mind because he loved the song so much, and he had a client that he thought was just a bit special. In fact, right then, Tim and Jennie were the only people who really believed in her. As she trundled back to Teddington on the train, the tune was playing in her head.", '[Play up music]', "As she didn't have a manager, she had to book her own gigs. She looked through Time Out to see where the Indie bands and singers were playing. They were in pubs and clubs mostly. She had followed her sisters to one or two of them as a child. Of course she had to stay away from the bar area. She remembered semi-dark rooms upstairs, pealing wall paper, cables from the sound system trailing across the floor, bemused onlookers, and the lead singer trying to talk to the punters in a cool offhand way while the audience carried on with their own conversations, and supped their drinks. Occasionally there would be one performer that would set the place alight and get everyone on their feet dancing. She had to be that act.", 'She spent an afternoon on her phone ringing venues. It has hard work getting hold of the right person, waiting for them to get back to her, and then pitching herself to them. "I\'m a singer-songwriter - just getting started - I would like to play at the XYZ club - do you have any evenings coming up?” The responses weren’t very full of encouragement. “Sorry love, we\'re fully booked for the next six months.” Or, "Where have you played before?” Or, "How many likes have you got on your Facebook page?” "I could send you some of my songs," she would say. Usually they didn\'t seem that bothered about her music. They were mostly interested in filling their venue with fans. A sixteen year old girl who had never played anywhere before and had six likes on Facebook was not obviously going to be good for business. "If only I knew someone who could help," thought Gladys. The frustrating thing was that she did actually know quite a few people who could help, if they wanted to. Some of them were her own family, but weren’t so inclined, and that was the problem. The closer they were to her, the more they thought she should be sticking with school. ', "She went out for a walk along the riverbank. She watched a barge go through the lock, then something clicked in her mind - Hadn't she read somewhere that the lead singer of the Throbinsons had invested in a club in a trendy part of East London? It was a place that was showcasing new acts. She knew the Throbinsons. They had played many of the same venues as the chiX. Surely he would remember her? His name was Mickey. They were even friends on Facebook! ", '"Yeah," she thought, "this will work.” "Hi Mickey," she tapped into the messenger app on her phone, "Remember me? I\'m the little sister of the chiX. Not so little now. I\'m starting my own career in the music biz. Any chance I could do a gig at your club?” "That would be great," came back the reply just five minutes later. "How about next Friday? We\'ve got just one slot to fill.” "Sure, would love to," replied Gladys. She added an emoticon of a pretty fox with its tale high. "Wowsie!" She thought, "It\'s so hard to get anywhere, and then when you know someone, even a little bit, it\'s that easy.” It’s one thing to be a singer with a gig, but it’s another to have some backing musicians. Still, Gladys wasn’t the sort of girl to let a little thing like that stop her when she was on a roll. Surely, Tim at the recording studio would know one or two people who could hold some drum sticks or a plectrum. "Well I could bring my keyboards,” he said over the phone. “Jennie could do backing vocals. I think we could just synth the drums this time around.” "Yes! Now we\'re rolling! “Thought Gladys excitedly. She started sending out invites to all her friends via WhatsApp, Facebook, and good old email. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn58.txt b/text/sn58.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b1eb9748bb0e9a79b3a4ade936c5dddaeee88786 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn58.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Gladys performs live in front of a crowd for the first time. It should be "her night" but two of her family members turn up unexpectedly and overshadow the event in different ways. ', "Gladys' school friends weren't really the clubbing sort. They were more into staying at home and reading a book or watching a murder mystery on TV. They were starting to throw parties, especially when mum and dad were kind enough to go out for Saturday evening, but they were still a bit young for clubs and gigs. They serve drinks in those sorts of places, and in Britain, you aren't supposed to go into a bar on your own until you are 18 years old. ", 'She was somewhat surprised when Jamie, who was probably the coolest guy in her class, accepted her invite to her gig. "It couldn\'t be that, could it?" Said Jay-Jay, pointing to a big metal sign and some steps leading down beneath the ground. "Surely that\'s a public toilet?" Said Gladys. In fact, Jay-Jay was right. It was the club. The Throbinsons’ lead singer had bought an underground convenience and turned it into a nightclub. "Well this is a glamorous venue," said Sara as they hobbled down the stone steps in their high heels. It might not have been the most exclusive place in town, but it was still hard to get into. The man on the door said, "You girls got ID?” "You see that poster," said Gladys pointing to a picture of herself. "That\'s me. I\'m on.” "Okay," said the guy, checking her face like a passport official. "And what about you two?" "They\'re my roadies," said Gladys. "I can\'t go on without them.” And so her friends got in without paying. Better still, they were given tickets for free drinks at the bar. They ordered soft, fizzy ones. Tim and Jennie had already arrived, and were checking out the mics. "We\'re on at 8.30," said Tim. "I don\'t suppose many people will be here so early. Perhaps that\'s a good thing seeing as this is your first live gig.” By 8 o’clock, the dank basement was starting to fill up with life. When Jamie arrived, Jasmine said, "Who’s that hanging on his arm?” She wasn\'t from their school. "Whoever she is, she looks like the cat who got the cream," commented Sara, obviously bitten by jealousy. Gladys was pleased to have some good-looking people in the audience, however, who seemed like they might have the pick of places to go on a Saturday night, and had decided to come and see her. Then she heard somebody say, "Hey isn\'t that Sam from the chiX." She looked over her shoulder and saw her sister. Kisses and hugs swiftly followed. "Well Gladdy," said Sam, "Now you know how we felt when we were starting out. Good luck to ya sis.” "I\'m going to need it," thought Gladys. It was time to check her microphone. While the engineer was adjusting the boom down to her height, she could see that people were crowding around Sam to ask if the chiX were going to have a reunion concert any time soon. She felt not a little cheesed off. Here she was, about to do her first gig, and she was still being over-shadowed by Sam before she had even sung a note. She couldn\'t see the lead singer from the Throbinsons. Presumably the main, perhaps the only reason to visit this dive was to grab a glimpse of him. Perhaps he would turn up later. Meantime Sam was giving the stargazers something to look at. Jezz, the manager of the club came up to Gladys and said, "Great to meet you. You\'re on in five. I\'ve asked your big sis to introduce you to the crowd if that\'s okay.”', "It wasn't really okay with Gladys. She wanted to do this her own way, but she couldn’t really object. It really got everyone's attention when Sam from the chiX was took the stage. ", '"Well, hi everyone," she said smiling a starry smile. Sam looked kind of great, like she was totally used to everyone’s eyes being on her. She had grown quite tall over the last few years, had a slinky figure and a way of holding herself that gave out all the confident vibes that Gladys lacked. "It is an unexpected pleasure for me," she said, "to be standing here in this great little venue about to introduce my very own little sis.” There were claps and a few whoops from the crowd. "Her name is Gladys, and when she was just a little babe hardly out of nappies, we used to take her on tour with us.” She lifted her arms in the air to generate a chorus of “AHHHs” from the onlookers. ', "“As I'm sure you have all heard, Gladdy is actually the brainy girl in our family. This is her first time singing in public and so please give up your warmest welcome for the one and only Gladys!”", 'She held out the microphone and Gladys ran over to take hold of it. Gladys was half fuming because she wanted to shake off that sobriquet of “brainy.” She had to be cool and confident. She fumbled slightly as she placed the mic in the stand. Tim was already playing the opening bars of the music. Gladys opened up her eyes as wide as she could and tried to engage with the crowd. They were a sort of blur. She could just about make out Sara and Jay-Jay who were standing in the front row. There was nothing for but to sing. [Play up music] There was a biggish cheer for the song. Gladys did not feel excited, more relieved actually. Her next number was one she had to sing by herself at the piano. It was much harder on her own. Then playing the guitar and singing the song after that was even tougher, and she fumbled some of the chords, but nobody seemed to notice. Somehow, she got through it. It was an enormous relief to get to “All We Want to Do is Sing” where she had some voluminous backing music and vocals. Three girls were dancing at the front, but most of the others seemed only mildly interested. It was by no means a disaster. "Thank you for being such a wonderful audience tonight!" She heard herself call out before she left the stage, thinking to herself, "That sounded corny, but what else could I say? At least the audience were clapping, if only politely. "Mum, what are you doing here?" She asked when she was released. "I saw it on Facebook; I had to come didn\'t I?” That was exactly why some of her friends weren’t on Facebook - so their mums couldn’t see what they were up to. Why had she accepted a friend request from her? She knew why - because it was rude not to. As mums went, she was an unusual one. She had simply abandoned the family when Gladys was three years old, leaving them to their care of dad. She upped sticks and moved to Australia to join the new man in her life. The oldest sisters, Laura and Mandy, had never forgiven her, and more or less refused to speak to her. Gladys and Sam were so young when it happened, however, that they hardly remembered their mother at all. They only really remembered their dad and his struggles with cooking and washing. After about a month of asking, "Where\'s mummy?" They more or less stopped bothering. Later on, Gladys wondered if she had died or gone to prison. Now she was back in their lives, Gladys and Sam found her embarrassing at best. "Actually Gladys," said her mother, "I\'ve come to give you a good sound talking to. Step outside so you can hear what I\'ve got to say to you.”', "Gladys was wearing a skimpy dress, and it was quite nippy outside on the green. There was the roar of traffic all around, a police helicopter going overhead, and rowdy people out for Saturday night - it was hardly the best place for a heart to heart talk, but that didn't stop her mother.", '"What\'s all this I hear about you giving up school?" She demanded. "You know me mum," said Gladys, "I like to do things properly or not at all. I\'m following my musical career full time.” "Don\'t be such a foolish young flibberty jib," scolded her mother, and then she actually slapped her across the face. The slap didn\'t really hurt, but Gladys was stunned. What right did this woman who had abandoned her family have to do that to her?" She actually laughed. Her mother went on, "You\'re making a wrong decision Gladys, you\'re messing up your chances in life." "Well you never said that to my sisters.” "They were different. They had what it takes to make it. Quite frankly, you looked silly up there on stage just now. You’d be better off in the church choir.” "That\'s my ID," she said angrily pointing at the poster again, and marched passed him. It was crowded inside now, and as she was making her way towards her friends, a man said to her, "Hey Gladys, loved your act.” She looked at him. He was tall and skinny; about twenty or so. He seemed kind of cool. "If you are looking for a manager," he said, "just give me a call," and he handed her a card. At first glance, he thought it said that his first name was "Dude" but actually, it said, “Dud.” Presumably, it was short for Dudley. It sported a logo of an arrow, sort of Mod style from the 60s. She knew about that sort of thing because her Dad liked The Who. It said, “Scoot Ltd. Top representation for top acts.” "Thanks," she replied briskly. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn59.txt b/text/sn59.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..269146bd6356ec01c380443da61c739ac56fa54c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn59.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Gladys desperately wants to succeed as a solo singer, but she is finding the music world is a tough place. A potential manager holds out the promise of help. Should she trust Dud the Dude? And is she weak-willed to be talked into doing something to shape her image that she thought she would never do. ', "Gladys wasn't really cut out for exercise, and hated running, but she had to look great if she was going to make it.", '"I will succeed, I will succeed, I will succeed," she repeated as she skipped. Music is a highly visual business. Skipping with a rope was one activity she didn’t mind doing. "Are you okay love?" Asked her dad as she came back into the house, sweaty and red faced. "Er, yes, fine thanks," she gasped between panting. After a shower, she sat with her tablet and searched Google for musical competitions that she could enter. She found quite a wacky one: The local council wanted people to put their litter in the bin instead of dropping it on the street. They had come up with a dustbin that would sing a thank you song when people used it. They were holding a competition for singer-songwriters to win the honour of composing and performing a rubbishy tune. The prize was £2000. "Well that will pay for a few hours in the recording studio," she thought. It took her about five minutes to pen the song, She sang her ditty into her portable recorder and emailed it off to the organisers.', "Next, she entered a TV talent show because these days, well you just have to. All she had to do was to fill in some details about herself in an online form, and then turn up on the day for the audition, which was in just over a month's time. ", 'She was wondering what to do next when her eye fell on the business card that Dud had given her at the gig. It was sitting on her desk. She wondered if she should call him. To be honest a dude who comes up to you at a gig and mumbles a load of slightly incoherent words about helping you succeed could quite plausibly be just trying it on… but then, maybe not. She rang Arny to ask his opinion. He answered from his hospital bed, "If a bloke says he\'s a talent scout and can get you a record deal, be careful. There are guys who just use that as a cover story and want to take advantage of you." ', "She felt Dud's card between her finger and thumb. It did seem a bit thin and cheaply printed. She pictured him her mind. Dud the Dude - or perhaps Dude the Dud. He had been sort of leaning against the wall when he met her. He wasn't so much chilled as a cucumber, as - well an ice cube. His longish hair was tied behind his head, but he didn't look at all girlish, just arty. He had large sensitive looking eyes. Well, she had to admit she liked him, but she wasn't going to trust him an inch. ", '“I\'ll ask to see him at his office," she thought, "and then I can suss out what sort of business he\'s got." The address was in Dean Street, in Soho. It was a seedy part of London, but a little search on the Internet showed that there were quite a few music and film businesses based there. She rang Dud. He sounded quite business-like: "Sure Gladys," he said, "I\'m glad you rang. It would be great to meet up. I’ll put you in the diary to meet the boss.” Gladys\' experience of a music manager boiled down to Arny. He was old school, a bit rough at the edges, talked a certain amount sense and quite a lot of baloney; but underneath it all, had a heart of gold. He really belonged to the time when you actually went to a record shop and bought a single imprinted into the grooves of a vinyl disk. Now in the era of digital downloads, YouTube, and all you can eat streaming, he was not exactly the man of the moment. Sometimes he would moan, "I don\'t hold with giving it all away for free. Where\'s the money in free?" You had to admit, he had a point. ', "The office could not be more different from the one where she had met the record execs. Four people were working in a small space overlooking the market stalls on the street below. The meeting room was little bigger than most people’s bathrooms. Dud's boss wasn't at all like Dud and he certainly wasn't like Arnie, or even the music execs. If he had worn a tie, she would have guessed that he was a doctor, like Sara’s father. His dark suit had broad stripes; his glass frames were thick, and his dark slightly messy hair was receding. As soon as he opened his large, sensuous mouth, with strong teeth, Gladys recognised him as being, well, posh. His name was Lex, which was short for Alexander. ", 'He leaned back in his chair and said, "My first business was "Pick Me UP." You\'ve seen the bars I guess. You might even have been in one, despite your slender years. They don\'t sell alcohol, just mocktails made out of tea and fresh fruit juice. If you haven\'t tried one you must, they are the most delicious and healthy drinks on the planet." Gladys had never heard of “Pick Me Up,” let alone set foot in one its establishments, but she nodded and tried to look politely impressed. "We sold the business last year, and now I want to have a bit of fun. I\'m investing in young talent. Here\'s the deal: you sign with us for a year. Every month you come into our studio and record a song. We fix you up with gigs over town. If you sign with a record label while you are with us, we are your representation and we get 25%. Sound fair?” Gladys prided herself in her head for business, but it was hard for her to take in if this was a good deal or not. It seemed like they would take a lot of the headache out of trying to build her career. "And after a year\'s up, what then?" She asked. She would be seventeen. It seemed pretty old to her. "We see where we are and mutually decide whether to renew for another year," he said. Dud chipped in and added, "If I may say so, Gladys, it’s a sweet contract for an artist that\'s just starting out. Get in on the ground while the going is good. It won’t be long before we will be fully booked and turning talent away.” "Let me think about it for a day or so," said Gladys, but she somewhat knew that she was going to accept. It wasn\'t as if she had any other offers of help. She was starting to feel very lonely, plugging away by herself at her career. On the way out of the office, Dud asked Gladys if she had time for coffee. She said yes because she hoped to learn more about Lex. Dud led her through the narrow streets of Soho, which seemed sleepy during the day, even though this was the very centre of London. They went into a little Italian ice cream place. She looked longingly at the colourful freezer, but Dud ordered an espresso and asked what she drank. “I only drink tea,” she said. It arrived in true continental style - a glass of tepid water with a pathetic looking bag, still in the packet, resting in a saucer. The only thing Gladys appreciated about coffee was the smell, but Dud’s espresso smelled so strong it almost gave her caffeine jitters. She asked what the real deal with his boss was. "He\'s an old Etonian," Dud said. Gladys had of course heard of Eton - It is England\'s oldest and poshest school. The Prime Minster, the Mayor of London, and the Arch Bishop of Canterbury all went there. "He\'s loaded and can afford to take risks that nobody else would take. That\'s why it\'s such a good thing he’s got on board. You should grab it with both hands.” “I know already that the record labels don’t like taking risks on new artists,” admitted Gladys. “I went to see one. They weren’t very encouraging.” She immediately wished she hadn’t admitted that. The information didn’t make her seem more desirable as a musical property. “I wouldn’t let you do something silly like that; but a flower or a butterfly would look good on you.” "But I don\'t want to scar myself for life!" Said Gladys. ', "Then she realised that wasn't quite the thing to say. Dud had some sort of inky wavy thing crawling around his neck, but he didn’t seem to have taken offense.", '"Here’s why you\'ve got to do it,” insisted Dud, "because good girls like you don\'t have them. I know a guy who can do it for you. He\'s an artist. Come and look through his photographs. You\'ll fall in love with his work, I guarantee." Somehow Gladys found herself walking through Soho with Dud, and down an alley and into a Tattoo parlour. It was the sort of place she thought she would never set foot in, but it was kind of interesting to be there. The walls did indeed seem a little like an art gallery. There were backs, arms, and other parts of the body bearing peacock feathers, roses, dragons, and songbirds and butterflies and many other creations. He also had various health certificates and qualifications on prominent display. “Your work is beautiful," said Gladys, "But not really for me." "I could do a little heart for you,” said Simon, the tattoo artist. "If I was going to have anything, it would be that," said Gladys. She wished she hadn\'t made even that confession. Her finger was resting on a musical clef in the catalogue. It was like her style. "On your left shoulder?" Suggested Simon. Some demon took over the good little girl called Gladys, and she said, “Go on. Let\'s do it," as she sat in the chair and watched Simon take the needle out of the sealed package, attaching it to the tattoo machine, which looked like some sort of garden tool. He began to swab her shoulder with disinfectant. She thought, "Why am I doing this? Am I weak to be talked into something I don\'t want? How could Dud talk me into this so easily - something that\'s probably going to be quite painful and which I can\'t reverse. I know better than this. ” But she also thought it was part of a mad adventure... something she would never normally do.', "Ouch! The needle pricked her skin. More than that, it went in deep. She frowned and then tried to smile but it wasn't easy. It tingled like mad. When it was done she looked in the mirror at her sore, but now musical shoulder. It was a neat little musical clef, rather pretty, but she thought to herself, “It’s a small token of my weak will.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn6.txt b/text/sn6.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b8bbc3bc40e640219e32b7213a238dcfa652f2fb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn6.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Katie returns for a story in which her mother buys her a black kitten to help her with her magic. Katie puts a spell on the cat so that he can talk. Soon he is not only talking, he’s gossiping about all her friends. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. Katie and the Cat Who Talked- Every Saturday, not far from where Katie lived, there was a market. Farmers came into town and set up their stalls in a car park. They sold the tastiest apples, the freshest eggs, and all sorts of vegetables that still had the mud from the fields on them. Katie liked to go there with her mum who looked for unusual herbs like sorrel, angelica and coltsfoot. Sometimes she made spells with these herbs, but quite often she just put them in her soups. One morning, as they were leaving the market, they passed an old lady who was standing on the corner holding a wicker basket. “Little girl, do you want to see what I have inside this basket?” she asked. Katie was a bit afraid, because she thought that perhaps she had something bad in the basket, like apples that were poisonous. Besides, she knew that she must never speak to strangers. But then she heard a little sound. “Mee-ow.” “Oh Mum, can we look please?” she asked. Katie’s mum was curious to see too. The old lady pulled back the cloth, and they saw that inside the basket, four little kittens were clambering over each other. “Oh please, they are so cute, Mum can we have one?” Mum shook her head. “Oh please, please, can we have a kitten? I want one so much. I promise to look after it and besides,” she whispered, “a cat could help me with my magic.” One of the kittens was black. Mum picked it up by the scruff on the back of its neck – the way a mother cat picks up her kittens. She examined it closely and made sure that he was completely black without even the smallest white mark on its paws. “All right,” she said. “We’ll buy this one.” Back at home, the fluffy little creature did loads of incredibly cute things like playing with a ball of wool, looking in the mirror and thinking there was another cat there, and climbing in and out of Katie’s shoe. “Mum, what sort of magic can cats do?” asked Katie. “Cats are very clever and can be your ears and eyes,” said Mum. “But you must be very careful. Cats don’t have much tact. They can get you into all sorts of trouble.” “By my cat’s clever,” said Katie. She picked up her kitten and kissed him. “I shall call you Solomon,” she said. “Because you are so much wiser than ordinary cats.” The months passed and Solomon grew up into a serious young cat who liked to sit and watch Katie do her homework. He often went out for long walks on his own, and Katie wondered where he wandered and what he saw. “Wouldn’t it be nice to ask him?” she thought. And then she had an idea. She went into her mother’s room and pulled down a volume from the Encyclopedia of Magic. There were some spells in there that were so secret that they weren’t even on the internet yet. She turned through the pages of magic instructions that began with “C” and she found the one that looked the most promising for her purpose. It was called “Cat’s Tongue” Katie went out into the garden to pick some catnip. She said a magic spell over it, and came back in to the kitchen to give it to Solomon. He purred appreciatively because there was nothing that he liked more than catnip. “Now Solomon,” said Katie, “can you tell me where you went on your walk today and what you saw?” “Murrrrr,” said Solomon. “I’m afraid I don’t understand cat talk,” said Katie. “I was just thinking,” said Solomon, “what to tell you first. Would you like to know about the mouse that I caught and ate for breakfast?” “Not really.” “Or would you like to know about the oak tree where I sharpen my claws?” “Not especially.” “Then shall I tell you who I saw with your friend Isis?” “Yes,” said Katie. “That would be rather more interesting.” “I saw Isis sitting in her garden with Tim eating ice creams, and do you know what? They kissed!” “Huh! They didn’t?” “They did. I saw it.” And Katie was so excited that she couldn’t wait to tell everyone at school all about Isis and Tim, but of course she wasn’t going to tell Isis or Tim themselves, because they obviously already knew about it. “Ugh, how could she? He has blackheads on his nose,” exclaimed Jane. “But how do you know?” asked Ravinia. As Katie couldn’t say how she knew, because her talking cat was meant to be a secret, so she just said that she saw it all with her own eyes. The next day, when Katie came home, she found Solomon sleeping on top of a pile of laundry. “Solomon, wake up you sleepy moggy! What did you see today?” “Well,” he said with a stretch and a yawn, “I was walking along the top of the school wall when I saw your friend Isis again. She was talking to Ravinia and she said that you were a spy and a tell-tale-tit.” “She didn’t!” exclaimed Katie with great indignation. “Of course, you don’t have to believe me if you don’t want to.” “I do believe you Solomon. I just meant, like, how dare she say a thing like that? She’s my friend. Well you know what? I’m not speaking to her anymore.” And for the rest of the week at school, Isis and Katie pretended not to notice each other, even though they were normally the best of friends. When they weren’t falling out with each other, Isis and Katie would share secrets and problems, and quite often, when they got home from school, they would chatter on the phone because they liked each other’s company so much. Now Katie wasn’t speaking to Isis. So she called Paul who used to go her school. Isis was looking out of her bedroom window at the spot where she had sat with Tim. Tim had given her one tiny little kiss, as an experiment, just to see what all the fuss was about that sort of thing. And she had liked it. She would have liked it less if she had known that Katie was spying on her? But how? The garden had a high wall all around it. Had she climbed up a tree? Or flown over on her broomstick, more like. But however she had spied that kiss, the hurtful thing was that she had gossiped about it. When the rumours started to spread around school, thanks to Katie and her big mouth, Tim became embarrassed and stopped being her friend. While Isis was thinking these sad thoughts, she noticed that a black cat was sitting in the apple tree, watching the birds flutter around the nut container that swung to and fro from a branch. “I know you,” she said. “You’re that witch Katie’s cat.” And then Isis thought to herself. “That’s it! The cat is Katie’s spy… but I bet I can turn that cunning creature into a double agent. Soon he’ll be spying for me. It doesn’t take much to win a faithless cat’s heart.” She knew exactly what to do. Two minutes later she was walking down the garden path carrying a saucer of clotted cream. “Here kitty, kitty,” she called. That was all it took. Soon Solomon’s rough tongue was lapping up the cream. “Now would you like to come inside and have some gorgeous smelly sardines?” asked Isis. “I don’t mind if I do,” said Solomon. When Solomon had eaten the tinned sardines in the kitchen, Isis lifted up the feline fellow and took him to her room where she put him down on her big soft pink pillow. As he stretched out she tickled his belly. “Mrrr. You sure know how to spoil a cat,” said Solomon. “I sure do,” said Isis. “And you can come here, drink cream, feast on sardines, and lie on my pillow any time you want. But tell me. Who is your owner and what is he or she like?” “Oh nobody special, just a little witch called Katie,” purred Solomon. “I know her. She has a boyfriend, hasn’t she?” asked Isis, taking a stab in the dark. “Not really. She just holds hands with Paul sometimes,” he said. And Isis thought that was rather interesting. “And tell me,” she said, “what does she say about the other kids at school?” “Oh nothing worth knowing. Just that Annabel has bandy legs, and Georgie is a cry baby, and Ravinia can’t be trusted to keep a secret, and Laura is so stupid that she takes notes when she’s watching cartoons on TV.” That was more than enough information. Five minutes later Isis had dialed Katie’s number and was relating back all the interesting facts that she had just learnt. “That’s s all rubbish,” said Katie. “It’s a tissue of lies.” “No, it’s not. It’s the perfect truth.” “Prove it,” challenged Katie. And she immediately wished that she hadn’t said that. “All right I will prove it. Your black moggy is lying on my pillow in my room and I’m going to invite Annabel, Georgie, Ravinia and Laura round to hear what he has to say. And then I’m going to tell the entire world about you and Paul. In fact, I’m going to send record dedications for soppy love songs to all the radio stations on your behalf.” “No, you wouldn’t.” “Try me.” And Katie realised that she was in a tight spot – one that magic wouldn’t necessarily get her out of. “Ok,” she said. “I’m sorry that I gossiped about you.” And although Isis didn’t accept her apology right away, the next day at school, when she found herself next to Katie in the dinner queue she asked: “How’s your cat?” “I don’t know. He’s not talking to me.” “You mean that even your cat doesn’t talk to you any more?” “Not since last night. I took the spell off him. I’m not so sure that a talking cat is such a good idea.” And after that, Isis and Katie became best friends again – because everyone needs somebody special that they can talk to. Endnote - \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn60.txt b/text/sn60.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7e000edf66bdbece017440b1942a7a77bfb0ff5b --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn60.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Gladys didn't feel confident dressed like most of the other kids did. She felt she was different, and she had to dress differently. She had another reason not to wear anything that might reveal her shoulder. She had a guilty mark - the tattoo that she was not yet ready to own up to. ", 'Today things were decided by practical considerations. Her dad was driving her to the big audition on his motorcycle. She chose her biker costume - leather trousers and a leather jacket. "Go get’ em girl," he said. He wasn\'t exactly the most conventional or pro-active dad. Most of the time he didn\'t really seem to care what she did, good or bad. Had he once looked at her homework? How many parents\' evenings had he been to at school? Three? Possibly only two. He didn’t even read her school reports. However, she did feel that he was proud of her, and unquestioningly believed in her ability to succeed, and right now, her dad\'s naive faith in her was what kept her going. You have to have someone who loves you, believes in you, and wants you to get there. You need that support. You can’t see it, but it is more valuable than a whole heap of cash. The audition for the TV talent show was held in the ballroom of a London hotel. Gladys arrived early, but loads of wannabes got there even earlier. The last time she had seen so many people squashed into such a small area was when she went to see the Viking Treasures exhibition at the British Museum. She felt irritated. So many people had the same dream as she did? How dare they! It was her dream. A boy who joined the queue at the same time as her said, "It\'s like a football match." "Yes," said Gladys, "But at a match it\'s the spectators who are the crowd. Here\'s it\'s the other way round. The masses are performing. The A team will be watching and judging.” The boy smiled. He was rather cute. "Nice one," he said. A camera crew came round to interview some of the hopefuls in the line. They chose the boy she had been talking to - it was the mohican haircut that made him stand out. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt and had all sorts of tattoos down his arm. Gladys wished for the first time that her own mark were on display. The interviews were done by a pair of presenters who looked like twins. "What was your first gig?" Asked the one who was the slightly shorter of the two. Neither of them were exactly giants. That was all it took to kill a dream. One word. Gladys was pretty sure the boy would get through. What could phase someone who looked as cool as he did? But strangely, as soon as he took the microphone she knew he had blown his chance. The confidence seemed to fly out of him. She could almost see it fluttering out of his head and flapping away to hide somewhere up in the rafters. His voice cracked and the judged waved his hand. The last of the Mohicans turned to Gladys and gave her a shrug. "Good luck" he said as he walked passed her. Gladys wasn\'t even listening; she was focused on the job in hand. She knew she could do it, and when she was in front of the mic she opened up her voice and sang. She was looking at the judges in turn like each of them was the love of her life. She was gesturing with her hands. It was all an act - It wasn\'t natural at all, but it felt like she was in control of the situation. They let her sing on to the power chorus. This was the testing part, and she knew it. There was a moment of nerves, but they just gave her more energy. She heard her voice sounding out like it was somebody else\'s. The music stopped. The lead judge just nodded slightly. The runner called out, "NEXT." She walked off the stage. The girl looked at her and said, "You\'re through," and gave her a fleeting smile. "Cheers, well done," he said, "I\'ll see you on TV," but he didn\'t ask for her phone number. Perhaps if he had been flushed with success, instead of crestfallen with a setback, he might have done. Her Dad just smiled when he heard the news and said, "Don\'t look so surprised. You\'re the best.” That was why she loved her daddy so. As they rode back through Hyde Park, looking at all the people strolling out on a beautiful day, she wondered if she could find a guy her age, or just a bit older, who was like her dad but, well, just a bit more proactive about life. "Do guys like successful girls?" She wondered. "Or do they feel put in the shade?” When they got back, she checked her phone and saw there was a message from Dud, her "manager" if that wasn\'t too grand a word for the kid. "Are you good to gig on the 29th? I\'ve got a slot for you on hold at the King\'s Duck.” She had no idea what the King\'s Duck was but it sounded like a pub. "Yeah, sure,” she replied. Then she thought, "I\'d better check with Tim and Jennie.” But oh, what a pain! They couldn\'t make it. She would have to perform solo. She had two weeks to get ready. Overall, six supporters promised to turn up for her next gig, which was fine. It was six more than she had a right to expect for her second ever public appearance. There would be a crowd of new people who hadn’t heard her before, which meant that she might pick up some new followers, which was always a good thing. Sara, Jay-Jay, James and his new girlfriend came again to give their loyal moral support, and she had sent out an email to the fans who had signed her mailing list at the last gig. She also had a few likes on Facebook who should see her status update. Three of those posted that they would be there. But when she saw the place - Oh!', "She wished that nobody had come. What a dump! This was an old style London pub. Half the customers looked like Fagin's gang from Oliver Twist. They had what you might call ‘characterful faces,’ but not really the sort of people you would want to meet on a dark night. ", "A younger crowd hung out in the room around the back of the pub. It was dark and standing room only. On the stage, a skinny boy was strutting up and down with his Fender Strat. He wasn't a bad guitarist, but some people shouldn't sing, and unfortunately he did. ", '"This is dire," said James. Gladys had to agree. The guitarist went on for an aeon. The next act, a girl folk singer in a flowery smock was only slightly less painful. Dud turned up half way through the folk warbler\'s final number. He said, ”Great crowd tonight Gladdy. Are you ready to sock it to them?" Gladys usually tried to think the best of people, but this time she didn\'t bother. Yeah Dud," she said and went to pick up her guitar. The good thing was that if the onlookers had been able to stomach the previous two acts, then they weren\'t going to be a hard to please. Gladys sung her sweetest and had everyone charmed. At the end, she spoke into the microphone, "Thanks for being such a great audience. I\'m Gladys Jones. Now I\'ve got a special request for you. Don\'t go out next Saturday. Stay in and watch BGV and vote for me because I’m going to be on it!" BGV was the big talent show. "Yeah!" Everyone cheered. Several people came up to Gladys to say how much they loved her set and she collected some more emails for her mailing list. Dud said, ”You didn\'t tell me you\'re on BGV, we need to keep across your news." Gladys felt annoyed. Frankly, Dud was the last person she would tell her news to. Besides, wasn’t it his job to follow her on Twitter? "I\'m going up to Manchester on Wednesday for the rehearsal. They could still turn me away if it doesn\'t go well.” "Oh, they just say that to cover their backs," said Dud, "You\'ll be fine, Glad. I\'ll drive you there." "It\'s okay, I\'m going on the train," said Gladys. "Na, really, It\'s all part of the service. I\'ll take you door to door. You\'ll arrive in good shape." Although Gladys did not really want to travel with Dud, it did sound nice to have her own chauffeur. She remembered how her dad driving her up to London had lifted her spirits and put her in the right mood for the audition. "Okay," said Glad. "Thank you. But let\'s start early because I can\'t stand being late." "Sure thing babe," said Dud. She didn\'t like the way he called her babe, but she let it go. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn61.txt b/text/sn61.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..f62927fa0c1edf093aee0ff2c2e6e201c05126f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn61.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Gladys is through to the first round of a big TV talent show contest. She had been planning to travel to the show on the train, but her manager Dud insisted on driving her. She is extremely frustrated when he turns up late to pick her up.', "Introducing Gladys's latest song, Are We There Yet?", 'It was 9.30 on Wednesday morning. Dud was already an hour late to pick her up. He had sent her a message, "Running late. Bad traffic. Be with you soon."', "That had been half an hour ago. Gladys was annoyed. She could have been on the train by now. She had rung his phone several times but presumably, he couldn't answer because he was driving.", 'He turned up at 10.45 and asked to use the bathroom. At last they set off in his snazzy little sports car. They weren\'t far down the road before he stopped outside a coffee chain and asked Gladys, "What do you drink? I see you as a skinny latte person.” "There isn\'t time,” she insisted. He glanced momentarily at the clock on the car. It didn’t seem to point to any time that related to the present. "Haven\'t had breakfast. I left at the crack of dawn to get to you.” As he got out. Gladys thought, "If only murder wasn\'t quite so illegal… And against the ten commandments," she reminded herself as he returned ten minutes later with a cardboard cup in his hand. He had a special drinks holder attached to the dashboard. She really didn\'t like the way he took a sip as he was driving - it didn’t seem safe. Somehow, he managed to miss the turning for the M25. Gladys turned on the Sat Nav on her phone and the soothing voice commanded them to "Make a U-turn.” That was a fat lot of use. How were they supposed to do that in the middle of the motorway? Then they had to stop for petrol; and for the toilet, and then there was a mammoth traffic jam on all three lanes. Gladys had given up any hope of arriving on time. "Not my fault," said Dud when Gladys was fuming like a steam iron. "Must have been an accident further down the way.” "But I could have gone on the train!" Said Gladys in a raised voice. She drew a deep breath and said despondently, "I would be there by now.” "Can\'t trust trains," said Dud. "You know trains. They\'re always late.”', "They arrived at the TV studio three hours after they were supposed to be there, Dud gave his card to the programme's producer and sort of apologised, saying it wasn't their fault because of all the traffic - but the fact was, Gladys was out of the contest.", '"Sorry," said the producer, who was a smart looking woman of about 40. "It\'s not enough to be talented. You\'ve got to be professional too.” Gladys burst out, "But it was my manager\'s fault, I wanted to come on the train. I\'m never late for anything on my own.” As soon as she said that, she released that blaming Dud made her sound like a kid in the playground.', "“Well, I'd get a new manager, if I were you,” said the producer, who could see that Gladys was seething with rage as well as disappointment.", '"I can\'t. I\'ve signed a contract for a year,” muttered Gladys glumly. “And I thought I was so smart at business,” she said to herself ruefully. Dud looked uneasy. "That was out of turn," he said as they were going down the corridor. They were being escorted towards the exit by a production assistant. Gladys was looking at Dud\'s back, but even the sight of him from that angle made her feel sick with anger. There was no way she was going to drive back with him to London. They were passing a glass door that led out onto a sort of garden, part of the so-called "Media Village”. She hung back until Dud and the production assistant were a few steps ahead, and then she slipped through the door. She went out into the garden and found a bench under a tree. She slipped off her shoes and sat crossed legged on it. Then she closed her eyes and thought of the sea lapping against the beach and the cries of seagulls. Gradually she began to calm down. When Gladys opened her eyes, she was no longer alone in the garden. A man was standing by one of those red ‘No Smoking’ signs. He was smoking a cigarette. "Hope you don\'t mind, filthy habit," he said. "Yes it is a filthy habit,” said Gladys. She hated those horrid smelling things that give you cancer.', "He looked a little surprised, and Gladys realised that his face was familiar. He was famous, but she couldn't quite figure out why.", '"I apologise," he said, and he dropped the foul fag onto the paving stone and extinguished it with his shoe. "That was my last one. I\'m giving up," he promised. She didn\'t believe his pledge. “He’s just schmoozing me,” she thought. In real life, he didn’t come across as a man with an iron will - in contrast to his image on screen. You see, she had just clicked who he was. He had been in one of those vampire movies in the lead role, a sort of deadly attraction. She could have sworn he was taller in the movie; and a lot better eye candy. Quite frankly, even Dud was better to look at. He glanced at her almost sideways, with a spark of mischief in his eyes - it was rather nice actually - and he said, in a voice that she had to admit was as silky as his film voice, "What do you do here, if I may ask?" “Of course he knows he may ask,” thought Gladys, “but I don\'t have to tell him.” She held up the plastic covered pass she had been given at reception. "Just visiting,” she said. "Snap," he replied, showing her his visitor pass. "I\'m here for one of those cosy daytime TV programmes," he said, “Only I never feel cosy doing the showbiz schmaltz thing. That\'s why I\'m feeling nervous, and I just bent the rules a bit,” He nodded towards the sign forbidding smoke. "Tell me why you are here? It will take my mind off things.” "Well," said Gladys, "I was just trying to forget about it, but as you ask..." She told him the story of the terrible trip, and feeling super embarrassed because it made her look unprofessional. "I\'m sure you sing brilliantly," he replied brightly. "I\'d like to come to your next gig. How can I find you?" "On Facebook. My page is Gladys Jones Singer.” "Glad to meet you Gladys. I\'ll look you up," he said. Of course, she knew he probably wouldn\'t. When Gladys left the Media Village, she hailed a taxi and asked for the railway station. An hour later, she was sitting on a train for London. It felt great to be heading back under her own steam, so to speak. She took out her phone and just out of curiosity checked her Facebook page. She had a new like. It was from Darren Wolf, actor. In fact, to be honest, a huge Hollywood star. "Not always Ghost Girl after all," thought Gladys. One of the nice things about the train is that you can read on it. She opened her bag. She had reached the part of Anna Karenina where Anna watches Vronksy ride in a horse race. She half pulled out her e-reader but then thought, “No I\'ll write a song, and then the day won’t be wasted.” She took her notebook and pen and put them on the table. She looked out of the window. Fields were flying past. "My life is a journey," she wrote on the page, and then put a big circle around the thought. She mulled over the nightmare journey in the car. She began to see that it could be quite funny if it didn\'t make her feel so angry. "I\'ve got to get something positive out of this," she thought. "I\'ll use it as a metaphor for a song.” By the time she reached London, she had written the words to "Are We There Yet?" [Play Up Song] \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn62.txt b/text/sn62.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d0a76b027e80983979560a659d3aa0e0021fbff6 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn62.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Gladys performs her song "In Real Life" and a very special person comes to hear her sing it. will the very sensible side of Gladys\'s character win the day when an film star shows a romantic interest in her? Gladys goes it Alone, Chapter 9: In Real Life Gladys spent her summer in Teddington. Much of the time, she sat at her desk and looked out of the window, seeking inspiration. The parked cars grew hot in the sun. Occasionally, a near tropical downpour would rinse the dust off them as effectively as a car wash. The postman delivered gas bills and a boy shoved fliers for pizza deliveries through letterboxes, but nobody was at home to pick them off the doormat. A mangy fox sniffed around some empty dustbins. When the bus stopped on the corner, two old age pensioners got on, and one old man got off. Often Gladys thought, "Is this how I am going to take the world by storm? By looking out at an empty street?” Life came back to Teddington in the first week of September. Mostly it returned on board a budget flight from Southern Europe, and sometimes in an overladen estate car pulling a caravan back from Cornwall. School was starting up again, but Gladys was staying at home. It felt strange to think that Sara, Jay-Jay, and James would be stringing their sixth form ties around their collars. She thought of the classroom, and her favourite teacher handing out dog-eared copies of Othello to the smallish group who would be reading it for their English Lit A-Level. She could almost smell processed sausages and beans in the school canteen and feel the chill of the changing room, as she got ready for hockey. The only thing she missed, quite frankly, was the company of her friends. Actually, there was something else; there was the routine. There was the security of having your day planned for you. You just had to listen, take notes, and do the homework that was set for you. The conveyer belt would take you to your destination: university. The only question was whether it would be a good university or a second or third-rate one. Otherwise it was certain, and proven to work. "The life I have chosen is a confidence trick," she thought as she looked at her Facebook page open on her computer, waiting for somebody new to like her or leave a message. "I have to convince myself that I can do it, even though there is no sensible reason to believe that I can, I have to have faith… in myself. Is that foolish pride? Am I messing up my life, like everyone says?”', "Hours went by when she just sat and thought. She wasn't doing anything to advance her cause because she had temporarily stopped believing. Then she would force herself to sit down and start writing, and songs would appear in her notebooks. Some were rubbish. Some were good. It was all material she could use one day.", "The standout song from this period in Gladys’s creative career is “In Real Life.” The seed of the idea came from the recording of “Are We There Yet?” at the start of the summer. It was the first time that Gladys got a real live band together for a session. They really made a difference, didn't they?", '[Play up a bit.] Up until then, Tim the producer had helped Gladys to "fake it." ', "These days you don't even need musicians to put down a song. If your producer can play the keyboard, he can be the band. He can be a trombone and a string section if you want. Faking it has its advantages. You don't have to rehearse the musicians. You don't have to record take after take until it is perfect. Every beat is on the beat. Every note hits the right note. A solo starting-out performer like Gladys can sound like she has the London Symphony Orchestra at her beck and call - but does it sound real? Does its heart beat or bleep like a machine? ", 'Arny, whose chest was still connected to all sorts of monitors and electrodes in Kingston hospital also had two little white listening buds coming out of his ears. He was assessing Gladys\' song, “Ghost Girl,” which was great, but had largely been "faked." He texted her with his verdict. "You can\'t beat live musicians Gladdy. They give it something extra." Although Arny was old school, Gladys respected him and wanted to please her mentor. So when she recorded, "Are We There Yet?" She asked Tim to find some real musicians. The recording session took three times as long and cost more than three times the price. Half an hour was gone just setting up the drums and checking that each one was miked up properly. It was exciting to have a real live guitarist walk into the studio and tune up his Stratocaster. He was, well, one chilled out dude who did this twice a day for a living. He tried out a dozen different riffs until Gladys and Tim said that was the one they wanted. By the end of the session, Gladys could see that Tim\'s computer had rows and rows of different takes on it for each instrument - a green wave of sound representing each run-through. The cost of the musicians and the studio time was going to eat into her savings. The result? Well you\'ve heard the song. It was a whole step up, don\'t you think? ', "She loved having a creative team come together, and this thought gave her the title for her next song and her first album. When she wrote the words to “In Real Life,” they turned into something a bit different. You see she was thinking about her chance meeting with Darren Wolf, the Hollywood actor. Do you remember that incident? How could you forget? Quite. He hung around in Gladys' thoughts too. Sometimes when she looked out at that suburban street, she saw a cute little open top sports car pull up outside her house and Darren got out - but that was only in her imagination. Yet, if her best friend had asked her about her feelings, she would probably have said she didn't fancy him at all. ", "She couldn't quite match up the dashing Darren she had seen on the screen, and the slightly crumpled one she had met in real life. ", '"Yes," she thought, "There\'s nothing special about stars. They have talent, but so have loads of people who don\'t make it. Their number comes up in the lottery of life. The entertainment industry showers money on them to make them look perfect, and we see them up on the screen all shiny and glittering. Quite honestly, it could be me. Yes, it could be... if only...” That was why she wrote her song, “In Real Life” - It was inspired by Darren Wolf, though probably not in a way that he would like. Her own funds were running low. It was the last recording she could afford for the time being, but it was worth it. Then something happened in the real world that changed her luck. An email dropped into her inbox from one of the clubs she had contacted at the start of the summer. She wrote back quickly before they could ask anyone else. "Always glad to help out. Fortunately, I\'m free. I\'ll do it.” Then she thought and added, "By the way, how much do you pay?” This time it really was a great crowd; Gladys could say that and be sincere. The clubbers had come out to dance and shake it down it in the first five or six rows. She gave them something to move to, because her upbeat numbers were tight and funky, thanks to the new drummer and bassist. For the first time she felt glamorous up on stage, and was using her arms a like an Indian dancer, swaying her hips, and smiling naturally. Her eyes flirted with the crowd. She sensed that the musician enjoyed the whole togetherness of it, and were really into the groove of her songs. Her music brought everyone together. It was an ecstatic feeling. Yes, this was why she wanted to sing. Then, at the end of one number, she sensed that a group in the crowd were looking not at her, but at someone in their own ranks. Who was drawing their attention? At last she caught sight of him. It was Darren Wolf. "Yes,” thought Gladys. “He kept his word. An A list Celebrity has turned out to see me!” But oh, for a moment she regretted that she was about sing her next number. There was nothing to do but to go for it and giving it her all. [Play Up “In Real Life”]', "Perhaps it was the venue; perhaps it was having a famous person there to see her. Most probably, it was the new musicians - but this was by far Gladys' best performance yet. As she walked off the stage there was something waiting for her on a chair just out of sight of the audience: a big bunch of roses. She had seen them as she had come on, but had assumed they were for somebody else. This time she took a closer look and saw that they were for her. ", '"Oh my," she thought. "I don\'t know if this is good or bad.” Darren found her backstage and gave her three kisses on the cheeks in the French style. He told her that she was great and asked if she had any plans for the evening. "Thank you for the beautiful roses," she said. "I\'m sorry; I have to go back with the band but..." She didn\'t quite know how she should finish the sentence. "Can I call you?" He asked. He was very polite, but he obviously didn\'t expect her to say, "No". "Well... Well why not?” Thought Gladys. “He did give come to see me, and he sent me flowers.” She gave him her number. It was the first time she had ever given it to somebody who was probably going to use it to invite her out on a date. Gladys slid her guitar case into the hatchback of Tim’s car. He had parked on a yellow line, and could leave it there for the rest of the evening. The backing musicians were in an elated mood, and heading off to another club. In her other hand she held the roses. She turned to her friends Sara and Jay-Jay and said, "Shall we go and get some tea? “ Although it was late, they found an Italian place that was open. They ordered ice creams. Of course, there was one topic that Sara and Jay-Jay wanted to discuss and it wasn\'t her performance on stage. It was who had given her the flowers?” "Well,” said Gladys, "Have you seen Bitten?” "Of course - we went with you, don\'t you remember?" Exclaimed Sara. "Great film," said Jay-Jay, "And that was one dishy vampire.” "Funny you should say that,” said Gladys, "because these flowers are from Darren Wolf.” "No!" Said Jay-Jay, in disbelief. "You\'re kidding aren\'t you?" Demanded Sara. Both were giggling and exclaiming so loudly that other people in the cafe were noticing. "I\'m deadly serious," said Gladys. "No pun intended. But he\'s too old for me." "What do you mean he\'s too old for you? He’s famous!" "He\'s 26 and I\'m 16. I haven\'t had a boyfriend. It can\'t be right." "You need to lighten up," said Sara. "Let me go on a date in your place,” begged Jay-Jay. "Yeah tell him you\'ve got two hot friends; Blonde and Brunette." Gladys didn\'t smile. She was considering the situation. "Well if he does call me, perhaps I could ask if we could just be good friends.”', "The girls looked at her in wonder, not for the first time, as if she was from some sort of far off and distant planet. What made Gladys tick? They had known her for years, but they still didn't quite get what she was about. Well at least they would have something to talk about at school on Monday morning. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn63.txt b/text/sn63.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..58e44ee0e55b5fcb3ea7c2147a5283100b5386df --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn63.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Gladys has been invited out to dinner with Darren Wolf the dishy vampire actor. Her friends are excited for her, and she is nervous. Will he be angry when she tells him she is not interested in romance? Gladys goes it Alone, Chapter 10: First Date By eleven the next morning, Gladys had a message on her phone from a dishy voice that loads of girls would have gladly suffered a Transylvanian bite of death for. Darren Woolf was inviting her to Rubies, a club in Mayfair where all the celebrities and the posh socialites with titles like, “The Honourable” hang out. Some of the people on the dance floor are in line for the Throne. "I would be a fool to turn him down," she thought, "but I vow to myself that I\'ll be careful. I will be up front about not wanting to take it any further. Even if he hates me for it, it doesn\'t matter. I\'ve not lost anything.”', "She decided that a date with a film star did call for something a bit special to wear. For once, she did a sensible thing and asked Sara to come shopping with her. Sara suggested a purple dress but the shop assistant said that for a posh date, you can't go wrong with a little black number. Gladys wavered. She overruled her friend and went with the shop assistant's advice. It was a good decision. Suddenly she looked something she had never seemed before: sophisticated.", 'Gladys had discovered something surprising. The prospect of a posh dinner with somebody who is world-famous for being dishy is actually more nerve wracking than performing in front of a huge crowd. She was quieter than usual as they took the bus home. "Don\'t worry. All you have to do is sit and look pretty,” said Sara. "I can\'t help being serious," said Gladys. "It\'s my personality." "You can\'t be Miss Sensible for the rest of your life," said Sara. "Yes, I can," said Gladys. It wasn\'t often that Dad complimented Gladys on her looks, but as she came down the stairs on the evening of her first ever date he said, "Wow! Where are you going honey?” "Out to dinner with Darren Wolf,” replied Gladys coolly. "Is he a friend from school, love?" Asked Dad, who knew nothing about any film made more recently than about 1977. "Yes," said Gladys. "He\'s just a kid from school.” The Rubies Club did not exactly advertise itself. Its entrance was just an ordinary door leading onto a pavement in Mayfair. It did not have to tout for custom however. Anybody who was worthy of the name of "socialite" knew where it was. A very smart and good-looking man stood outside the door. His Italian suit fitted perfectly around his powerful shoulders. He could have been a sportsman perhaps, or even an up and coming actor. Then she noticed his hands. Surely, nobody but a bouncer would wear leather gloves. "Good evening," he said, as he opened the door for her. No questions asked. She stepped into a little entrance hall. There was nothing impressive about it, apart from a girl who sat behind a desk. "Good evening," she said. Her teeth were as perfect as her pearls. She was beautiful, but she looked like the sort of girl who is afraid to smile in case she gets a wrinkle. "He\'s waiting at the bar for you," she said. Then Darren stood up. "Gladys, you look stunning," he said. "Thank you," she replied. Nobody had ever said anything like that to her. Did he really mean it? Did he know that if she wasn\'t actually a schoolgirl, she probably should still be one? He had an ice bucket with a bottle of chilled white wine leaning in it, but she said that she didn\'t drink and asked for water. She nearly said, “tap water" but didn\'t. The barman asked her, "Still or sparkling Madam?" “Still,” she said. "You know, there\'s something I probably ought to tell you," Gladys admitted, dipping her eyelids down shyly, and then looking up at him and appealing for sympathy. "I\'m only sixteen and this is my first date. Oh no, I didn\'t mean it quite like that. What I meant was; I\'ve never been out with anyone. I mean, rather I didn\'t mean to say that this is a date, but rather that it isn\'t, if you understand.” Darren did look a little surprised for just a moment. "Your first date?" He said. "Well I didn\'t quite realise. We had better make it special then. How about champagne?" "I\'ll just stick with the water.”', "“I'll just stick with conversation. I wanted to say how much I like your music, and discuss if I can help your career.”", '“In any case,” added Gladys who had been reading the celebrity blogs, “You’ve got a girlfriend.” "Well not anymore, actually, but more to the point, have you still got that terrible agent?”', "Gladys felt comfortable talking about business. She told him that she had been locked into a yearlong contract. She laughed and said that all she had got out of it thus far was a tattoo that she didn't want. ", '"I noticed that," he said, glancing at her shoulder. "It\'s cute.” He suggested that she simply write to the owner of her management company and ask to be released from her contact. He might well let her go. In any case, he would realise that she was unhappy and he might try harder. Gladys was enough of a businesswoman to see that Darren was talking good sense. "And when you get out of your contract, whether it\'s now, or a year from now, I\'ll introduce you to my agency. They manage musicians as well as actors and they have offices all over the world. I can\'t promise anything, but I am sure they will at least see you. Can\'t do any harm, hey?” "Thank you so much," said Gladys, "It\'s really kind of you.” "It\'s nothing," said Darren. "I\'ve seen you perform. I really believe in you. I know you\'re going to go far. You’re all the more amazing because you’re just sixteen.” Gladys ate scallops, followed by rack of lamb, and tiramisu. They went into the disco and did a little dancing to 1980s music - Gladys remembered what the music execs had said about the 1980s not coming back anytime soon, and wondered if they really knew what they were talking about. The dance floor was still going strong when Darren called a car - not any old taxi, but a limo with a driver in a peaked hat. He escorted her all the way to Teddington, even though the driver could have dropped him off at his flat on the way. The next morning there were eight messages on her phone. One from Darren thanking her for being such beautiful and charming company - and seven from her friends asking all about it. "He was a perfect gentleman," Gladys texted back to Sara. "Oh, boring!" Came the reply, and then, "Go on, tell us what really happened.”', "Gladys really wasn't hiding anything. She had found someone genuine who really wanted to help her. ", '"None of my friends would believe it," thought Gladys, "but I believe it. I think good things are going to happen now.” —— Jay-Jay texted her at lunchtime and said, “Hey Gladdy, you’re famous.” “What do you mean?” Gladys replied. “Seen the Daily Post online? Your pics in the sidebar with all the celebs.” What had she done to deserve inclusion in the ‘Sidebar of Shame’ where the online newspaper dumped all the celebrity tittle-tattle that made it so popular? To her amazement, and some horror, it was true. She could hardly believe her eyes - not one, but three pictures of her, coming out of Rubies holding onto Darren’s arm, walking across the pavement, and then getting into the back of the Limo. At one point Darren was holding her hand… but it had not been like that. He was just helping her. “How did they snap those?” She thought. At the time, she had hardly noticed the photographers - she assumed they were interested in Darren, not her, because, well, she wasn’t famous yet. She took a deep breath and scanned the article. Who is that young chick on Darren’s arm? (“Chick! What a cheek!” Thought Gladys. She had somehow managed to forget that her family’s fame rested on a band called the chiX). Darren Wolf was spotted stepping out with sixteen-year-old Gladys Jones, the younger sister of girl band, the chiX, which broke up last year. Gladys, who was too young to join her song-sisters in their heyday, has now quit school to pursue her own musical career. A friend of Darren Wolf told the Post, “There’s nothing romantic between them, they’re just close friends. Darren wants to see if he can help Gladys professionally. He really respects her as an artist. I think he likes her a lot, but she is a tad on the young side for him.” Other diners at Mayfair’s Rubies club reported that the Bitten star seemed smitten by his pretty, young companion as they were dancing up close later on. The news that Darren’s old flame super-model Michelle De La Mare is seeing boxing champ Hussein Akwal has set tongues wagging about who will be the vampire actor’s next victim of love. Watch this hot couple for further developments. Gladys’ first bite of fame actually quite annoyed her. “It’s all wrong,” she thought. “I’m not seeing Darren; I just went out with him once. Besides, I don’t want to be known as Darren’s girlfriend, I want to be me, just me in my own right; an artist, not a chick. In any case,” she wondered, “how did they know my name?” She realised there were two possibilities: either the club had tipped off the press, or Darren had told them. Why would he drop her in it? She dialled his number. “Hi Darren,” she said, “It’s me, Gladys. Have you seen the Daily Post?” “Yes, I’m just looking at it now. Nice pics of you,” he said. “You have two great advantages. You are young and you don’t drink. You looked fresh at 2am. Even the top models look pretty iffy when they come stumbling out of Rubies.” “Was it really 2am?” She asked, horrified that she had been out so late. “Something like that,” he said. “But don’t worry - it makes it perfectly clear there is nothing going on between us. I insisted on that.” “You mean you spoke to them?” Asked Gladys, quite taken aback. “Not me, but my agent did. He is very much interested in you by the way. His colleague in the music department is keen to get you on their books. They thought a little publicity wouldn’t do you any harm.” “But nobody asked me,” protested Gladys. “The press don’t ask permission,” said Darren. “It’s a free country. Sometimes they write things you do not like. Sometimes they get it a bit wrong, but if you are going to make it in the world of entertainment, you have to cut a few compromises. If a journalist calls, get back to them right away, or get your PR to get back to them, because journos are always on tight deadlines. Be polite to these people. Give them what they need, but on your terms. If you do not help them, they will write something anyway, and they might twist the knife. These are the rules you have to learn. Take it from me. When you are newsworthy, your career starts to become a whole lot easier. People call you. Things start to happen.” “But what if they write too much about you?” Asked Gladys. “Shouldn’t you keep the press at arm’s length?” “Hey Gladdy, when you’re Beyoncé, you can worry about that. Right now, you need to get your name known.” Gladys began to see it is a big advantage if people know your name. When she had walked into the record company, they had been so patronising. They thought she was a sixteen-year-old nobody. It wasn’t her music they were interested in. What did some smooth geezer in a suit care about her art? It was her value as a commodity. They valued her price as next to zero. They wanted someone they could package up and sell to the public. If the public had seen your picture, and thought you were the girlfriend of the star in a vampire movie… well you had done half the work for them - your price tag had gone up a few notches. It wasn’t so hard to imagine your name on the bottom of a recording contract. People did start to get in touch with her. The first was Laura - that evening she received a rare message from her starlet sister who resided in California. “Hey Glad, just drooling over the pics of that vampire boy you’re stepping out with. Lucky little sister me thinks.” Gladys replied, “He’s a nice guy, but I’m not stepping out with him, and I’m not planning to. He wants to help me with my career.” Then Laura messaged, “Still same old Miss Sensible-Pants. Well get your bum on a flight over here and meet my record label. They want to snap you up before anyone else grabs you.” “Wow,” thought Gladys. “What a change! Just one silly article in the papers, and suddenly my sister wants to help me. Well Carpe Diem!” She wrote it down absent-mindedly on her notepad. If she had stayed on at school, she would have taken Latin as one of her A-levels. It meant, “reap the day,” or, “seize the moment.” Oh! How was she going to afford a flight to California? She had spent almost all her savings on recordings. How was she going to seize the moment without any money? The situation was such a … she nearly said a bad word aloud, but she was too nice to do that, even in the solitude of her own room. Instead, she picked up her teddy bear by the ear and threw him across against the wall. He was sixteen years old, like Gladys, and a bit too doddery for rough play. She couldn’t sleep that night. She had a sort of waking dream. She was thinking of a flight taking off for LA, and could see a passenger seat occupied by a ghost girl. She couldn’t fasten the seat belt around her tummy, because it wasn’t substantial. She couldn’t even taste the rubbery airline chicken. Then she was looking out of the window. She could see the palm trees on the beach, the cool dudes surfing the waves. She imagined the sleek offices of the music company - and there she was - not actually her, but the ghost of the girl who might have been a star. Her first break and she couldn’t take it. She knew how changeable and unreliable Laura was. If she didn’t get on a flight right away, her sister would forget all about what she had said. Next week could be too late. How was she going to beg, steal or borrow the price of an airline ticket? She might have to ask her management company, but they had been so rubbish at managing her, she did not want to get into their debt. Oh fiddle sticks! You never know what is around the corner though. Sometimes the planets do all line up and pay you favours, because the next day she received some more good news. Do you remember her dustbin song? She had actually forgotten all about it. It was hardly her most profound composition, but she had sent it into a competition run by the local council. The prize for the winning entry, which would be used to thank people who kept London tidy by dropping their litter in a bin, was £2000. Guess what? Gladdy won it! It now meant that she was on her way to California to do business with the entertainment industry. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn64.txt b/text/sn64.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1e5d3840f7c7a6236e86b1a722ab20184a271d42 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn64.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Here it is Gladys has reached California and the final chapter in this series about the girl who wants to make it big as a pop star. We do hope you have enjoyed this series and the music. Listen out for her latest song – it’s really fun – and it’s called Snap Me ! The inside of LAX airport was shiny and silvery like her laptop. The taxi driver who picked her up was Russian born and bred, but actually of Korean heritage. He had won a Green Card in the lottery that gave him citizenship in the USA. The ride into town took them past randomly placed tower blocks, long straight roads, huge cars, numerous cheap shops and liquor stalls, endless signs in bright colours – orange, yellow, red… There were few pedestrians. “The only people on foot are muggers,” said the driver in his laconic Russian accent. The outskirts of the city seemed random, purely commercial, chaotic, and above all, vast. Where were the pavements glistening with gold? It was getting dark when the taxi turned into some narrow streets with houses built on a human scale and she caught her first glimpse of the ocean. She had chosen her hotel on the internet – but what a find! She had a studio to herself overlooking Venice Beach. From her window, she could see palm trees and a huge desert of sand and then the deep blue Pacific Ocean. The only thing that spoiled the view were the down and outs sleeping on the dunes. A lad on a skateboard whizzed past playing an electric guitar, Jimi Hendrix style. He had a battery-powered amplifier. Although she was tired and jetlagged after the thirteen-hour flight, she was too excited to sleep. She took a walk along the crowded sidewalk. She looked at the other strollers and the diners in the cafes where people ate outside in the warm evening air. Super-skinny women picked at salads. The men seemed twice the size as Europeans, broad-shouldered, thicker-necked, square-chinned, and muscle-bound. Many of the hangers-out on Venice Beach sported the torsos of film-stars, but a few were more obese than anyone she had ever seen before, or thought possible. It seemed like a place where everything was on a grand scale. A police car was built like an armoured vehicle. Six robocop officers were interrogating a dilapidated old drunk. A Baywatch dune-buggy scuttled along the beach to rescue a distressed surfer. Bicycles, skateboards, and packs of joggers sped past her. The stalls were hip, in the sense of being stuck in the 1970s, selling beads, string bags, and tattoos. She shuddered at the thought of a tattoo by the beach. Some of the buildings were with turn of the century brick and very pretty, others were UGGGH! They were made of bare concrete and so ugly. There was no shortage of down-and-outs. Rather worryingly, quite a few of the homeless either strummed guitars, or slept with a guitar shaped bag by their sides. Had they too been hopeful musicians drawn by their dreams to California? Had they once naively thought that they could strike it big just by artistic talent alone? Had they thrown away their chances of education and betterment, and bet everything on their vocal cords? Was she glimpsing her future in this land of opportunity that cared about failure the way the way people feel about disposable nappies? She realised who the true-life ghosts were. Most strollers looked straight through those who never quite made the grade. She saw a man throw a dime to a bum. His wife asked, “Why did you do that? He should get a Job.” The husband replied, “He’s just a guy who made a few bad decisions in life.” The next day she saw more of Santa Monica, because that was where she was meeting Laura. She had to admit that the shopping streets were oh so beautiful – perfect pedestrian walkways with gorgeous boutiques on all sides. It was like London’s Bond Street with the addition of sun and palms, and it wasn’t just one street; every street was like that. Her sister was in her element. “Still the same old Gladdy,” she said, kissing and hugging her. They had not seen one another for two years. “If you’re going to meet my record label, we’d better get you some designer gear. Can’t let the family side down with that gypsy dress sense of yours.” When Gladys took the taxi back to Venice Beach she was laden with shopping bags of clothes and shoes, all bought on Laura’s various credit cards. She wouldn’t have chosen any of it herself, but hey, if that’s how her rich and successful sister wanted her to look for the important meeting, that was fine by her. By chance, or design, or a bit of both, Darren Wolf was flying out to LA the week that Gladys was there. His agent was in touch with Laura’s, and the deal making was taking place behind the scenes. Gladys’s commodity was being dealt in the market place for talent and she hardly knew about any part of it. The business meetings took place around the pool of the hotel where Darren was staying in Beverly Hills. Sleek mums stretched their bony bodies out beneath the autumn sun. The kids of filthy-rich parents splashed in the water. Hollywood execs traded the names of actors and musicians under the striped awnings. The palm trees leaned over the pink-painted walls and eavesdropped on the gossip. “My agent told me not to take the show,” bemoaned an actor, “He said the money wasn’t good enough, but it was better than not working for six months. I shouldn’t have listened to him.” Not far away at another table, Gladys was meeting Darren Wolf and the music specialist from his talent agency. The agent was another of those men who looked like he had been chiselled out of stone. While Darren greeted her with kisses on the cheek, the agent gave her the most bone-crushing handshakes she had ever felt. There was something about his lips she didn’t like. They were a bit purple like a Roman emperor who drank wine for breakfast, she thought. His wide smile with his expensive teeth, his sculptured hair, his powerful aftershave, his baritone voice, all came across as artificial to her European sensibility – but what did it matter? He was so much more upbeat than the down in the dump Brits. “So your contract with your current manager has ten months to run,” he said. “It’s no big deal. We shall agree to sign an agreement in ten months’ time. The record company is set to expedite this. They are ready to put their publicity machine at your disposal. They’ll give your image an immediate makeover.” Gladys smiled, but she thought quietly, “Even Laura’s designer rags aren’t good enough.” Laura and her boyfriend, Simon Ferg, turned up late – perhaps they might be forgiven, as 11.30 in the morning was early for them to be out and about. They got lost in the hotel’s extensive tropical garden, before finding their way to the winding steps that led down to the pool area. When they breezed in, Laura was all sisterly and kissy-kissy but didn’t quite feel like family to Gladys. The celebrity couple were very nice to everyone, generously scattering their stardust around, but obviously a bit too used to being the centre of attention. Darren was even more famous than they were, but much more genuine. “Is Shamus here yet?” Laura asked, as she leaned back with Simon’s muscly and heavily tattooed arm around her skinny shoulders. Shamus was her A&R director at the music company. “Not yet,” said Darren – but it didn’t matter, because nobody was in too much of a hurry to leave such a nice spot by the pool. At least Shamus apologised with charm when he turned up a little after noon. He ordered pancakes with berries, tropical fruit, and ice cream. He shook Gladys’s hand and spoke in a soft Irish accent. “So we need to get you signed up and making an album with us,” he said. The agent explained that the legal situation with her contract was a little delicate. Shamus swallowed a mouthful of pancake and wiped his mouth with a heavy linen napkin. “Don’t fret. Where there’s a will there’s a way. That’s what we pay our lawyers for.” It all seemed so casual. They weren’t really any more interested in her music than the British company had been, but they were all positive that she had a great career ahead of her. Nobody gave her any lectures.. Actually they largely ignored her, and talked about her future among themselves, like she was a stock or a bond. Gladys decided that the wisest thing she could do was to say as little as possible and stay inscrutable. She sipped on her freshly squeezed pineapple juice and nibbled at her salad like a true LA lady – but then again, perhaps not: she heard a woman at the next table customise her order until it was an entirely different dish from the one on the menu… the poor waiter was practically taking down a recipe. “No onion, extra spinach, and just a little cucumber. Now pay attention to the next part, because this is the only way I like my salad dressing, it has to be just so…” “It’s like the Great Gatsby,” Gladys thought, “Only on the other side of America.” The next day Gladys invited Darren, Laura and Simon over to Venice Beach because an all-day rock festival was taking place on the beach. Gladys soon realised that the person who would have enjoyed it most was her Dad, but he was back in Teddington listening to his vinyl records. Some of the longhaired and wildly bearded bands must have been going twenty or thirty years and not hit the big time, but you couldn’t help feeling that these old-time rockers loved what they were doing. They all seemed very chummy with one another, as if they had all been around on the same circuit for decades. As the day wore on, the acts got younger, and frankly, the music got better. Gladys was starting to wish she could take a turn up on stage behind the microphone. Naturally, Laura and Simon turned up so late and they caught the best part. By this time, the audience contained more famous faces than the acts on stage, so it wasn’t really that surprising when a photographer for a music blog sold pics of the onlookers, not the stage performers, to an image agency. The next day snaps and rumours about Darren and Gladys were circulating once again on celebrity websites, Twitter, and the Daily Post. The record company that Gladys had seen in London dropped her an email asking her to revisit them. She forwarded it to Darren to ask him what to do, and he sent it to his agent. Shamus kept his promise to stoke her publicity up, even though the label hadn’t signed her up yet. They arranged an interview with a music journalist. It took place at a super posh restaurant in the centre of Hollywood. Gladys had to endure lunch with a journalist and a publicity agent. She didn’t actually mind the woman who was interviewing her – she seemed articulate and smart – it was the PR man who irked her. The questions were fair enough. “What are your musical influences? How was her music different from her sisters?” Even so, she had to be careful. She wanted to say that she was more serious about her art than her sisters, but that might irk them, and Laura was helping her, and the last thing she needed was a public slanging match with Mandy and Sam. She said that she was taking a less commercial approach, and then realised that the record company probably didn’t want to hear that – after all, commercial meant “money” and that was what they were most interested in. Her sentence was floundering. The PR butted in and spoke for her. “Gladys has staying power because she fits into the classic tradition of singer-songwriters.” Gladys realised that the PR guy hadn’t actually heard her music because she wasn’t quite a traditional singer-songwriter, she was more the serious end of pop . Even so, she nodded. Then suddenly, as if to try and get at the real Gladys, the journalist said, “Do you promote girl power?” “Sure,” said Gladys. The PR man clarified. “We wouldn’t really want that to go in the article. Girl power suggests Brit Pop from the 1980s. That is not what Gladys is about. She fits into the contemporary scene.” “Okay, let’s put it another way,” said the journalist, “Are you a feminist?” “Hmm,” said Gladys, “interesting, I suppose…” The PR man butted in quickly, and said, “Those sorts of questions are not really appropriate. Gladys is here to talk about her music.” Therefore, the interview never really got anywhere, because Gladys couldn’t overrule the PR Man, as she really needed to sign the contract with the record company. She could see that the journalist was disappointed with the interview, and really hoped she wouldn’t write anything nasty. If only Darren had been there. He would have managed the conversation more subtly, and let Gladys be herself and speak her mind. The journalist would have got a great double interview. Then again, she didn’t want people to think that she and Darren were an item. Oh it was all so complicated! Gladys flew back to England a different woman from the ghost girl who had come out – yes she did feel more like a woman now, although she was only sixteen and a half years old. She hadn’t had a boyfriend. She hadn’t had a first single out, let alone an album. She really should have been at school, but the 10 days in the navel of the entertainment industry had taught one big thing – that she must have kind of a detachment from her own career – like she was a ghost girl, but one who was going to float to the top. She felt she was talented, but she didn’t kid herself that her talent had got her this far – it was luck. The wheel of fortune had spun a few times and eventually the little ball had fallen into her number. Another equally talented girl could have kept on trying and trying for years and never got further than playing at weddings and birthdays. She had met the right person and he had helped her. Had not Darren taken an interest, even her own sister Laura wouldn’t have lifted a finger for her. Once others scented her potential to make money and be successful, they all wanted to be part of her. They treated her like she was their property. The press, the PR people, the agents and managers, the record companies… to them she was just a commodity to package up and sell. Thinking this all over on the long flight back home, she wrote the words to one of her most catchy songs, “Snap Me!” [Play out on “Snap Me.”] \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn65.txt b/text/sn65.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..55c41e0ff42e892ce09a978c4f57366aa72501d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn65.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Surprise! Here's a one-off Gladys story as a follow-up to ourseries earlier this year. It's set at Christmas. Gladys feels she is on the brink of success in her career. But not everyone realises that she has grown out of being a fixer for her sisters.", 'Gladys’s Christmas Joy -', "Hello, this is Natasha, and we have a lovely Christmassy surprise for you. One of our most popular productions of 2014 series in which our singing hero, Gladys, came back. There were music and songs and when it was all over you kept on asking us why it had to come to an end. For all you Gladys fans out there, here is a story called 'Gladys’s Christmas Joy.'", 'It was hard to believe that it was going to be Christmas all over again. It seemed just like yesterday that those tacky and tinsley number ones were playing, like ghosts of Christmas past. You heard them on the radio, you heard them at the winter fair, you heard them in the supermarkets as shoppers pushed their trolleys around picking up frozen turkeys, vintage puddings, and fake fur trees. What particularly drove Gladys mad was that they were playing those hit songs of yore all day long in the cafe where she was working as a waitress. Yes, Gladys had not quite made it yet in the world of pop. It was an unfortunate fact in the life of a girl who was half-way to becoming a superstar that she had no money. The agents and music execs in California had promised her a bright future - but that was exactly what it was - a future. And so here in the present she had taken her first job. It was hard work and low wages. Most of the customers were nice, but some were rude, and her manager would say things like: “Is it so hard to remember which drawer the forks go in, Gladys?” and “Do you really think those are suitable shoes for work Gladys?” and “Do you have to look so stressed all the time, it puts the customers off their food?" But somehow she did not mind any of that because this Christmas, unlike any other previous Christmases, she had every reason to think that things were going to be very different in a year’s time. “Yes,” she was thinking as she arranged the turkey sandwiches on a plate, “they loved me in LA. Now, at last, I’m truly on my way.” As she was walking home from work on a particularly cold evening, she felt her phone buzzing in her coat. She was surprised to see that the call was from Ava, whom she had known at school, but hadn’t spoken to in ages. She was always the second most sensible person in school after Gladys - and now that Gladys had done the totally unsensible thing of heading off to pursue fame and glory in the music biz, the school had made Ava head-girl. The teachers felt that they had had a narrow escape - because if they had made the obvious choice of Gladys, she would have let them all down with her rash flight of fancy.', "“Hi Gladdy,” said Ava. “Long time no speak. Listen, I’m in charge of this year’s 'Help A Child In Need,' appeal at school, and you know me, I don’t like to do things by halves. I’ve set myself a simple target. I aim to raise more money for charity than any school in the country has ever done before. I’m nothing if not ambitious, hey? But it’s a cool idea, no? I'm calling to ask for your assistance.”", 'Gladys was walking along thinking: “Uh-oh, this is more about Ava’s ego than about kids in need,” and she really wanted to think of a polite way to get away, but she found herself saying: “Why do you think I could help, Ava?” “Simple,” said Ava. “You arrange for your sisters to reform the chiX and put on a special charity gig here at the school. We could name any price for a ticket and it would sell out in minutes. Maybe they could release a special Christmas single while they are about it, you know, with words like - Clap Your Hands Save the World, and all that stuff.” “Well, Ava, you know I would just love to help,” said Gladys, a little insincerely, “but my sisters don’t have any plans to regroup, and besides Laura lives in California.” “I know Gladdy, but you have such great people skills. You’re the only person in the whole world who could win them over. The fans of the chiX would just love you to bits if you did,and remember it’s all in aid of such a good cause!”', "“Flattery will get you almost everywhere, Ava, but sorry no can do,” said Gladys, “It just isn't possible.”", 'Gladys was starting to feel more than a bit annoyed. She had slowed down her walk home to take this call, but what irked her even more was that Ava still saw her as a fixer for her sisters’ band. She wanted to say: “Don’t you realise that I’m me now, I’m Gladys, I’m the one with the talent and the drive and the will to succeed?” But instead she took her gloves off and put them in her pockets so that she could pinch herself on the back of her hand. The sharp but harmless pain took her mind off her irritation. Then Ava really put her foot in it: “Strictly between me and you, Gladdy,” she said, “It wouldn’t do you any harm to do the school a favour because if you ever wanted to come back and do your A Levels they would be less likely to refuse. Mrs Johnson was pretty cheesed off when you left early, and this is a golden opportunity to get back in her good books.” “Thanks Ava,” said Gladys, “but I’m not coming back to school. I’m doing alright on my own thanks.” “Well, nobody is more pleased to hear that than I am, Gladys. I’ll pop over and buy a turkey sandwich off you sometime.” It took a lot to make Gladys angry, but when she reached home she was shaking so much with rage, that she found it hard to put the key in the latch of the door. “What’s up Glad?” asked her dad as he opened the door for her. She stormed past him and headed up the stairs. “Bad day at the sandwich shop, love?” he asked innocently. “No,” she called back. “Life’s perfect,” and she slammed her bedroom door. When she had calmed down, she checked her emails and saw, to her surprise, that there was a rare email from her sister Laura in LA. It was sent to all the sisters and said: “Just rushing to airport. See you in London soon XXX.” That was about the most advance warning you could expect of a visit from Laura. “Bother,” thought Gladys. “They could do the gig, but I needn’t worry, because they wouldn’t do it without a lot of persuasion and organising by me.” And then she felt a guilty pang, because although Ava was the most annoying person on the planet, the concert was for charity. As Laura was in town, it was inevitable that the sisters would get together. They met on Sunday afternoon for a walk on Clapham Common. Gladys’s cheeks flushed red in the cold air. Laura and Mandy both wore Santa hats, which actually looked quite fetching. They linked arms and went along doing high kicks and singing Jingle Bells at the tops of their voices. Gladys did not have that kind of extroversion. Seeing her sisters act like that made her wonder if she really had the right personality to be a performer. When they stopped to buy roasted chestnuts, she felt compelled to mention Ava’s request for the chiX to reunite and do a charity gig at school. “That would be a laugh,” said Laura. “I’d love to see the annoyed look on those teachers’ faces. Yeah, we made it without their stupid lessons, gym classes and detentions.” “Yeah, let’s do it,” said Sam. “Just a one-off for old time’s sake, and to take a look at the old place and remind ourselves what we escaped from.” And Mandy said: “Can’t say I’m dying to do that all over again, but it is for charity.” “Bother,” thought Gladys. “I’ll have to tell Ava. This is going to look great on her C.V. ‘Organised spectacular fundraiser for charity,’ she will say. But in fact she made one stupid phone call. I’ll do all the work, and everyone else will take the credit. Same old story. When is my life going to change?” Gladys was nothing if not diligent. She spent a whole day off work on the phone and email, hiring sound and lighting equipment and searching for backing musicians. She would have to pay for all this out of her savings. Her sisters promised to refund her, but she knew that she would have to ask each of them six times over for the money, and that meant sending 18 nags in total. Then she had to get them together for rehearsals, and suddenly they all had busy diaries, even though on a normal day they spent their time sleeping and shopping. This was starting to look like the worst Christmas of her life. As part of the preparations for the concert, Gladys went to a meeting at the school with Mrs Johnson and Ava. It was strange walking back through the gates. A teacher glanced at her, and she could see she was wondering why Gladys was not wearing uniform. “Hello Miss,” said Gladys, struggling to remember the teacher’s name. “Hello,” said the teacher, who could not remember Gladys. Gladys went to the school office and said: “I have an appointment with Mrs Johnson. The secretary, who was new, looked in the diary and asked Gladys to go through to a meeting room and wait for the head teacher. Ava arrived soon afterwards. “You’ve done so well, Gladys,” she said, “I knew you could.” Gladys cringed because she felt that the praise was insincere. Still somehow it felt that they were sitting side by side, one wearing school uniform, the other wearing a business suit. Then Mrs Johnson came in, saw Gladys and said: “Hello Gladys." Gladys stood up and held her hand out for her to shake in a business-like way. The head teacher looked at her hand with an expression of puzzlement, before taking it limply. “When we first heard your plan,” said Mrs Johnson, “the mood in the staff room was less than enthusiastic. It does not send out the right message that some of the less diligent students - I am talking about your sisters, not you, Gladys - find easy fame and fortune. Some young and impressionable minds might not realise that a considerable amount of good luck helped them along. It was as if they had won the lottery. I gather things have not been quite so easy for you, Gladys." “I’m doing well thank you,” said Gladys. “Well, you can thank Ava here for her hard work, persistence and powers of persuasion, because she brought some of the senior staff over to the point of view that this would raise a considerable sum of money for charity and show the school to the world in a positive light.” Gladys nodded. It was a bit rich that she was supposed to thank Ava, but she did her best to look grown-up and business-like, despite being talked down to. She thought quietly to herself: “You won’t talk to me in that patronising tone after my career gets launched properly. You’ll be begging me to come back and give a talk to the whole school on prize-giving day.” After that, the meeting was fairly brief. Ava went back to her lessons, and Gladys went to talk to the head of drama and the school janitors about how they were going to arrange the concert in the assembly hall. The space was big enough to fit 1,400 people, which was a nice size for a special gig. It wasn’t exactly the O2 Arena, but it would feel quite cosy when it was packed with fans. They talked mostly about the arrangements for security and evacuation in case of a fire. Preparing for her sisters’ gig was taking up almost all of Gladys’s time. She had given up her job in the sandwich shop. But some of her evenings in December were an entirely different matter. Her connections in show biz, including Laura and Darren Wolfe, had invited her to some of the ritziest Christmas parties in London. They were the sort of dos where the celebrity spotters are held back by security guys in black suits, and the flashes of the cameras pulsate, and the party-goers pause on the red carpet to sign autographs with the adoring fans on the other side of the rope. Laura’s boyfriend had arranged a chauffeur driven limousine for one of these evenings, and as they sat in the back, Sam said to Gladys: “Last time you wore that black dress, I didn’t like to say this, but it doesn’t suit you.” As it happened, Gladys was particularly fond of that dress because it was the one she had bought for her evening out with Darren Wolfe. In her heart she knew that Sam was jealous of how good she looked in it, but there was still part of her still-sensitive soul that hemorrhaged confidence. She felt low all evening. It was odd, perhaps even blatant, that later that evening Sam said to Gladys: “You know that Ava needs a dress and I hope you don’t mind, I said she could borrow yours.” This was a development that Gladys was totally not expecting. “What does she need it for?” she asked.', "“Didn’t you know she’s going to sing a number with us?” said Sam. “It's like a reward for arranging everything.”", '“What!” exclaimed Gladys. “Over my dead body, and even then not in my dress! How dare you invite her without asking me first?” “Sorry Gladdy,” said Sam. “I didn’t realise you would mind so much. She was nagging me and nagging me, and I just gave in and said ‘alright’. It’s only for one number.” Gladys wanted to cry, but at the same time she felt mean, because she really did have a future making music, and Ava was just a wannabe. She was actually lost for words. The next day, Ava called at the house to try on the dress. “To tell you the truth,” said Gladys, “I think it will be a tight fit for you.” What she said was perfectly true, and she did not mean to be catty, but Ava immediately replied: “I knew you would be like that, but I don’t have any choice because I’m still at school and don’t have any money of my own.” Gladys felt bad and said that she was welcome to try it on. In fact, Ava really had to squeeze into the dress. When Gladys zipped up her back for her, she wondered if the seams were about to burst. “There,” said Ava, posing in front of the mirror. “Sam said it was just made for me.” Gladys shook her head, but Ava did not notice. On the night of the concert, Gladys and her sisters arrived at the school in a swanky black car. “This sure beats the bus,” said Sam. A group of students had been allowed to meet the chiX in their dressing room. Gladys could see how her sisters were loving it. “Of course, I should have known they would have been up for this gig," she thought. They were lapping up the attention because people they had sat next to in class could see how glamorous and successful they had become, and that was somehow even better for their egos than being adored by complete strangers. There were former school mates who wanted to talk to Gladys too, but there seemed to be a note of sympathy in their voices, because Gladys wasn’t totally famous yet. It was annoying, but none of her real friends had been given passes to go back stage. She suspected Ava had seen to that. As ever, Gladys was the one who kept her eye on the time, and coaxed her sisters to get out onto the stage. She stood on the wings and watched the band as the loudest cheers the school had ever heard shook the rafters. The hall throbbed to the bass and drums and there was a delightfully pained look on the face of Mrs Johnson sitting in the front row.', "Everyone wanted to hear the chiX’s greatest hits like 'Life is a Circus' and 'Ghost Girl' (the sister’s version not Gladys’s) and they were even more up for Laura’s more recent solo numbers. Gladys thought they weren’t dancing quite as well as they did in their prime, but it was more than good enough for a private gig. When Ava was about to join them for the last but one song, Laura gave her a great build-up, lavishing praise on her dedication and hard work for charity, and saying how she set a fantastic example for all the selfish people in show business. Ava was standing in front of Gladys, ready to run on stage, and taking deep calming gulps of air in anticipation of her big moment in the limelight. The borrowed dress seemed to be stretching and Gladys feared that her little favourite black number might be losing its slinky shape. As Ava stepped on stage, the cheers went up and Gladys’s heart sank. It just did not seem right. The chiX had given their guest singer an uptempo number, and some verses for her to sing solo. Gladys had to admit that Ava had a good voice, she was in tune, and she could belt out the notes. Somehow the stitches of her dress clung together. The tight fit sort of flattered her. The final seconds of the song featured some energetic dance steps. Ava swung her hips and - Kapow! The dress actually did go bust - Gladys's first reaction was horror at seeing her favourite item in her wardrobe fall to pieces, but then she burst out laughing because the school’s head girl was standing on the stage in her underwear. She was so stunned she did not move for a moment, before the full horror of what had just happened sunk in and she ran off stage. The audience found her predicament hilarious, and suddenly it wasn’t a Christmas concert so much as a comedy ball.", '“I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life,” hissed Ava through hot tears. “And it’s all your fault for lending me a cheap knock-off of a dress.” “Didn’t I try to warn you?” asked Gladys, amazed at the A grade student’s reasoning, or lack of it. She was already feeling torn between sympathy and feeling this was the funniest thing she had ever seen. The music had stopped and Laura was speaking to the audience: “I hope you enjoyed your head girl’s deliberate wardrobe malfunction, which was of course all part of the act, and now please put your hands together and welcome the unsung hero of our singing sisterhood. We’ve always called her the brainy one of the family, but actually she’s also got an amazingly sweet voice and my prediction for the New Year is that she’s going to be a huge star - give it up for the one and only Gladys!” Gladys was so amazed that her feet felt like they were glued to the floor. Laura had to come and drag her onto the stage and place her in front of Ava’s microphone. The drummer started to beat out a groove and Gladys recognised the number, because she had suggested it as the finale to the show. She glanced at Laura and saw her affectionate smile that said: "Go ahead and sing, you know the words,” and Gladys’s heart filled with joy. [This is where we play in Joy to the World] And that was Gladys’s Christmas Joy. If you are listening in December, we hope it set you up for a really happy and joyous Christmas, but of course you can download our stories for free on any day of the year, so drop by soon at Storynory.com. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn66.txt b/text/sn66.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a760028cd692385a9af316fa5e2c1ba80e038112 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn66.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the mp3 audio Have you got your cutlasses ready? And fed the parrot? Do you want to hear a story about pirates? Pirates are all the rage, and we get loads of requests for stories about walking the plank, swinging in the rigging, and mayhem on the high seas. And so Bertie has come up with a series of stories about a boy called Jack who meant to go to sailing school, but ended up at pirate school instead. Read by Natasha. Once upon a time, there was a boy called Jack. He was seven. And Jack had six sisters, but no brothers. And they were really, really girly.', "All day long, they'd play with their dolls.", 'And with their beauty salon. And twirl around in their pink ballet tutus. Jack thought it was really, really boring. "How about a game of pirates?" Jack used to say every morning, when they didn\'t have to go to school. And sometimes his sisters would agree. But their idea of playing pirates was to sit all the rogues and ruffians and cut-throats around in a circle and serve cups of tea and slices of cake.', "They didn't want to make people walk the plank. Or hunt for buried treasure. Or anything.", 'And Jack just got fed up, and went to play pirates by himself.', "Then one day, they were all sitting at lunch when Jack's father asked him if he wanted to go to sailing school in the summer holidays.", '"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Jack. "That sound GRRRRR-ate." And so it was agreed. In the summer holidays, Jack would go off to sailing school for a few days. "Just one thing, Jack," said his father. "Make sure you aren\'t captured by any pirates." And all his sisters laughed. "Because they might hold you to ransom for a million pounds," said his father. "Oh, I wouldn\'t worry about that," said Jack. "The rascals and ruffians could never capture me. I\'d just fight them off." And he made a slashing motion with his hands, as if he was waving a cutlass through the air. "See, like this," said Jack. "Boom, bam, biff…" And all his sisters rolled their eyes. "That\'s agreed then," said his father. Jack was so excited, he could hardly wait for the school term to end. All day long, he would sit at his desk in school, dreaming of how he was going to be out in the ocean waves. And wondering if there really were any pirates out there.', "Not that he'd mind if there were.", "He wasn't frightened of pirates.", 'Finally the big day arrived. It was the start of the summer holidays. Jack packed his bag very carefully. He had some clothes to wear, and some sandwiches to eat, plus some swimming trunks in case he fell into the water. And a cutlass. Because, after all, you never knew what kind of ruffians you were going to meet on the high seas. Of course, it was only a toy, plastic cutlass. But never mind, thought Jack. Maybe he could just scare then away by waving it around a bit.', "He'd show them.", 'His mum put him on the train, and told him to be careful.', "And as he watched the countryside go by, Jack couldn't wait to see the ocean.", 'Finally, he could see the waves crashing against the shore, and soon afterwards the train pulled up to the station. He climbed off the train and looked up and down the platform. And then he saw a man standing with a sign, which said. "Boys who want a life on the ocean waves, please step this way." And so Jack walked towards him. "Excuse me," he said.', "It was at that point that he noticed a funny looking parrot sitting on the man's shoulder.", '"Er, excuse me," said Jack. "Yes, what is it?" said the man. "Is this the right place for the sailing school?" The man paused. "Ahhhhaaaaa," squawked the parrot. "Sailing school……ahhhhhhaaaaaa." "Shaddup, you stupid bird," growled the man. Then he looked back at Jack. "Sailing school, you could say that," he said. "Step this way young man." And so Jack followed him towards the car, and they drove to the port. "Who\'s a silly boy, then," squawked the parrot, or at least he did until the man whacked him around the beak. And then they climbed out of the car, and the man showed Jack the ship.', "But it wasn't what jack was expecting.", 'It was more of a galleon than a yacht.', "With huge sails, and rigging, and a crow's nest.", '"I, er, I mean…" said Jack nervously. But the man just pushed him up the stair, so hard that Jack went flying across the deck. The next thing he knew, a very tall man was walking towards him. A man with a black cape, and a wooden leg.', "He lent straight into Jack's face.", '"Welcome to pirate school, young man," he boomed. "Where\'ll we\'ll teach you everything you need to know for a life of mayhem and treachery on the high seas. I hope you like excitement young man, because from now on, you\'re going to have plenty of it". "Excitement is just what I like best !" said Jack. And then he felt just a tiny bit nervous. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn67.txt b/text/sn67.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..100e854215afa76a21c72e0c70c8da098e5927db --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn67.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +In first part of our exciting pirate serial, Jack was meant to go to sailing school, but there was a mix-up at the station and Jack ended up at Captain Blackheart's Pirate School on board a Pirate Ship.", "Although Jack is quite a small boy, he likes to be brave, but Captain Blackheart is so very scary that it's difficult for him not to be just a little bit afraid.", "So hang on to the rigging for the second part of Jack's adventures.", 'Read by Natasha. Duration 8.39. "Excitement is just what I love most ," said Jack, and then he felt a tiny bit frightened. "But I think I was meant to be at sailing school, not pirate school." "Sailing school?" roared Captain Blackheart. And then roared with laughter. "Did you hear that my hearties…" He looked around the deck. And Jack looked around as well, and all across the deck, he could see about twenty pirates. And they were the worst, most desperate looking ruffians he had ever seen. They wore striped vests, and old shoes, and they had dirt all over their faces and hands. And as soon as Captain Blackheart laughed, they all laughed as well. "Sailing school, you say," said Captain Blackheart. "Well we\'ll teach you all you need to know right here, won\'t we lads." And all the pirates laughed even louder. "Our men can unfurl the rigging with one hand, cut a man down with their cutlass with the other, and fire a broadside of cannon right into the black, cruel hearts of the enemy with their big toe. Isn\'t that better than any sailing school…" "Yes, er, I suppose so," said Jack. "Because sailing school is for girls…" "I wouldn\'t want that," said Jack. "I\'d much rather learn how to be a pirate." "Then let\'s begin, m\'lad," said Captain Blackheart. "And we\'ll make a pirate of you before the day is done, that we will." And then he picked Jack up with both hands, and hurled him across the open deck of the ship. "Get your self kitted out…" Jack went hurtling across the deck, then fell down the stairs, and went tumbling, tumbling, tumbling, until he was lying flat out on the deck of the downstairs deck. "Ouch," said Jack. "That hurts." A boy was standing right next to him. He looked about nine to Jack, and he was dressed in old rags, and his face was covered in dirt. "Hurt, did it," said the boy. "No, No," said Jack, climbing to his feet. Just then, the boy clipped him around the head, and Jack fell over again. "That\'s alright then." The boy put out a hand. "My name\'s Ben. I\'m the cabin boy around here." He looked Jack up and down. "You can\'t wear that stuff," he said. "We\'ll get you some proper clothes." And Ben walked across to a big chest. He pushed aside a snake that just happened to be sitting on top of it, and pushed it open. "Here, take your pick," he said. Inside the chest there was a collection of the dirtiest, oil-est, meanest looking rags you had ever seen. Jack pulled out an old battered pair of trousers, and a stripped vest, and pulled them on. Then he messed up his hair a bit, and spread some grime across his face. It was just the sort of thing that made his mum really cross.', "I'm going to enjoy being a pirate, he thought to himself.", "There's just one thing, he thought. I better tell mum and dad I'm not at the sailing school.", 'So he walked up onto the deck, until he saw Captain Blackheart. He was standing at the wheel of the ship, with the parrot at his shoulder. "Ah, Jack, me lad, you look like a regular ruffian," said Captain Blackheart. "Thanks, sir," he said. "But I just wanted to tell my mum and dad I\'m at pirate school, not sailing school." And suddenly Captain Blackheart looked very cross. And the whole ship went silent, so that all Jack could hear was the rustling of the wind through the sails. All the pirates were edging close to towards him, until Jack was completely surrounded. "We don\'t tell parents that anyone is at pirate school," he said, in a voice so menacing it sent a shiver down Jack\'s spine. And then he roared with laughter. And all the pirates laughed with him. Even Ben was laughing. "Because you’re a prisoner!" roared Captain Blackheart. "A prisoner," said Jack. "Oh…." "Your not scared are you, Jack," said Captain Blackheart. "Me, scared," said Jack, just a little nervously. "Nahhhhh…." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn68.txt b/text/sn68.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..69f70c5c8508bcec2f60b7fe0cd040af13a3fe78 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn68.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Captain Blackheart sends a ransom note to Jack\'s Dad, demanding money in return for Jack\'s safe delivery home. The note is carried by a parrot who likes to stop off for snacks along the way. But the big question in Jack\'s mind is \' Will Dad pay up?" Listen to find out. The series is collected here. Read by Natasha (who really enjoys doing Captain Blackheart). Duration 14 minutes.', "Now, I'll begin….", '"For ransom…" cried Jack. "Aye, lad," said Captain Blackheart. "I reckon your parents will pay a pretty penny to get you back. Better that than see you walk the plank…" "Walk the plank…" cried Jack. "Well, of course," said Ben the cabin boy. "Anyone doesn\'t pay the ransom, we make them walk the plank. But don\'t worry. The sharks will eat you in no time." Jack felt even queasier after that. "Black Spot," cried Captain Blackheart. "Bring me that parrot." Jack watched while the ugly looking pirate called Black Spot walked across that deck. On his shoulder, there was the very same parrot who he had seen at the railway station. "Walk the plank, walk the plank," squawked the parrot. "Shaddup, you stupid bird," growled Black Spot. From his overcoat, Captain Blackheart pulled out a piece of parchment, and a bottle of ink. He grabbed hold of the parrot, plucked out a feather, and dipped it into the ink. "Ouch, that hurt," screeched the parrot. "One more squawk out of you, bird, and you\'ll be going in the stew," snarled Captain Blackheart. "Big meanie…" "What was that?" "I said, which stew," squawked the parrot. "Shaddup," yelled Captain Blackheart. Then he looked at Ben, handed him the feather and told him to start writing. Because Ben, it turned out, was the only person on the ship who could read and write, even though he was only the cabin boy. Captain Blackheart scratched his chin with his hook, and tried to think. "To Jack\'s parents," he began. And then he looked at Ben. "Are you writing this down?" "Yes, sir," said Ben. "Very well," said Captain Blackheart. "To Jack\'s Parents. Allow me the honour of introducing myself. My name is Captain Blackheart, the meanest, cruellest, black-hearted ruffian of the seven seas and the five oceans, and I am honoured, sir, to make your acquaintance. Into my possession has fallen a boy called Jack, whom I believe is your son -- although you must be ashamed of the lilly-livered little land-lubber, and I could hardly blame you for dis-owning the cowardly wretch completely." "On first acquiring the said boy, my plan was to enrol Jack in my pirate school. I\'d have taught him all the skills he needed for a life of mayhem, skull-duggery and piracy on the high seas. And yet, on the first day here, he has been sick. He doesn\'t like the food, and he doesn\'t care much for the waves either. In short, I am forced to conclude that he is nothing but a lilly-livered land-lubber. "Therefore, I have no use for him. I will return him to you for a ransom of one million pounds, paid in gold bullion, or treasure. If we have not received the money in seven days, then Jack will be forced to walk the plank. And you will never see him again. Yours in dastardly anticipation, Captain Blackheart. Ps If you happen to have a spare treasure map, please send that as well." The Captain rested for a moment. "Have you got that, lad," he said, looking towards Ben. "Indeed, I have Captain," said Ben. "But, but…" started Jack. "Be quiet," growled Captain Blackheart. "Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet," squawked the parrot. "Silence," roared Captain Blackheart. He folded up the letter, pressed a seal of a skull and cross-bones into it, and handed it across to the parrot. "Now, deliver that to Jack\'s parents, you useless bird," he said. And the parrot flapped his wings, and flew away. Oh no, though Jack, as Ben led him down to galley.', "What's Dad going to say when he gets that?", "I'm in trouble now.", 'The wind was blowing hard, and the ship was rocking from side to side. Jack lay down in the hammock in the cabin. He suddenly remembered what Dad had said to him about not being captured by pirates while he was away at pirate school.', "And Jack had said not to worry. He'd just fight them off with his cutlass.", 'Oh no, thought Jack.', "Maybe I shouldn't have said that.", 'Now they are going to make me walk the plank. And the sharks will eat me.', "Now, it took the parrot quite a long time to fly all the way to Jack's house.", "That's partly because a storm was bowing across the ocean.", "And partly because he wasn't a very fast parrot.", 'But mainly because he kept stopping for little snacks along the way. Still, finally he got there.', "And when the parrot arrived, he could see Jack's six sisters. And they had just organised a tea party for their dolls in the garden.", 'The parrot dropped down to the ground, with the letter in its beak. And all the sisters flapped around, shouting and shrieking. "I\'m looking for Jack\'s Dad," said the parrot.', "And, whilst he was at it, he gabbed a bit of the doll's cake and ate it all up.", 'One of the little girls rushed inside shouting. "Dad, dad, there\'s a parrot here to see you."', "But Jack's Dad thought it was just a joke.", 'Eventually he came outside, and saw a slightly podgy looking parrot polishing off its third helping of cake. And there was a letter at its side. He picked up the letter and started to read. He frowned. And scratched his head. And then he started to laugh. "It says Jack\'s been captured by pirates, and is being held to ransom," he said. "Oh, that\'s just Jack with his silly pirate games," said one of the sisters. "Remember he said he\'d fight them off with his plastic cutlass," said another. "You are quite right," Jack\'s Dad decided. And he sat down to write a reply. "Dear Captain Blackheart," he began. "I too am honoured to make your acquaintance, dear sir. My son Jack, far from being a lily-livered land lubber is the bravest boy who ever sailed the seven seas. He assured me personally, before he left, that if he was captured by pirates he would fight the rascals off with his cutlass. No force on earth can keep him prisoner, and certainly not the cowardly Captain Blackheart. Your faithful servant,', "Jack's Dad.", 'P.S. Your parrot has eaten all my cake." And when he was finished, he handed the letter across to the parrot. "Now take that back to the Captain, fatso bird," he said. "And don\'t delay." The parrot flapped its wings, but was finding it quite hard to fly, on account of all the cake he had just eaten. He flew across the land, and then over the sea.', "Until finally he landed on Captain Blackheart's pirate ship.", '"Ah-ha," cried the Captain. "So you\'ve returned, my pretty bird. Let\'s us see how soon that stupid boy\'s father plans to pay us our treasure." Jack was already hard at work scrubbing the floor of the ship. He watched as Captain Blackheart handed the letter to Ben -- because he was the only person who could read. And Ben started to read…. "Dear Captain Blackheart," he began. "I too am honoured to make your acquaintance, dear sir. My son Jack, far from being a lily-livered land lubber is the bravest boy who ever sailed the seven seas. He assured me personally, before he left, that if he was captured by pirates he would fight the rascals off with his cutlass." Oh no, thought Jack. I was only joking. And he could see captain Blackheart growing redder and redder and redder…as if he was about to explode. "No force on earth can keep him prisoner, and certainly not the cowardly Captain Blackheart," continued Ben. "Your faithful servant, Jack\'s Dad." There was a silence on board the ship. All the pirates were standing still, looking at the deck. And all you could hear was the rustling of the wind in the sails. Whilst Captain Blackheart turned red, then green…then purple. "PREPARE THE PLANK!" he roared suddenly. And he looked at Jack. "Your father has gravely insulted this ship, sir," he snarled. "And one week from today, you will walk the plank." \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn69.txt b/text/sn69.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d92636bcc44163eea0f3985c8d0f88d09ecbe456 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn69.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Tim the Tadpole is very, very very, excited about this one, and is just begging Natasha to get on and get to the end of the story. Colin the Carp is not quite so excited, but he's looking forward to Tim and the other tadpoles calming down.", 'Captain Blackheart looked at Jack. "Your father has gravely insulted this ship, sir," he snarled. "And one week from today, you will walk the plank." Jack felt a bit nervous after he heard that. "Take him to the hold," roared Captain Blackheart. Ben the cabin boy led Jack down into the hold. "Well, er, looks like it’s the plank for you, old boy," said Ben. "Rotten luck." "I know," said Jack glumly. "Still, I suppose it\'ll be quick," said Ben. "A couple of bites from the shark and you\'ll be dead. Or maybe a giant octopus will strangle you. Or you could be eaten by a whale. Or else just drown, I suppose." Jack gulped. "Still, a bit mean of your old man not to stump up the ransom," said Ben. "You see the thing is, I always told stories and jokes about how I\'d fight off the pirates," said Jack. "So I think he thought I was just messing around." "You mean you don\'t want to walk the plank," said Ben. "I\'d rather not," said Jack. Ben thought for a minute. "Then I suppose there\'s nothing else for it," he said. "We need a plan." And so the two boys sat down together. And they thought. And they thought. And they thought. Until their heads hurt a bit. So they had a snack. And then they thought a bit more. And finally they came up with a brilliant, wizard plan. But it was so clever that they decided not to tell anyone about it. For the next week, Jack worked really hard. He scrubbed the decks. He tightened the rigging. And he helped Ben cook all the horrible food down in the hold. And he soon found he was starting to quite enjoy life at pirate school.', "One of the men showed him how to man the crow's nest.", 'Another showed him how to slash a cutlass. And another taught him how to fire a broadside of cannon. It was all great fun. Even Captain Blackheart was starting to quite like Jack. "If you were such a lilly-livered land-lubber, my lad, I\'d probably show you how to follow a buried treasure map," he said, ruffling Jack\'s hair with his rusty hook. "But as it is, I\'ll send you to a watery grave." Finally seven days were up. After the pirates had finished their breakfast of dried shark skin and boiled octopus eyes, Captain Blackheart took to the deck. "Seven days have passed since we placed a ransom on Jack\'s head," he roared. "And still Jack\'s Dad hasn\'t paid the money we demanded." He looked across at the parrot who was in charge of all communications on board the ship. "Any word, bird." "Not a whisper, Captain," squawked the parrot. "They can\'t like him very much." "Then prepare the plank, men," said Captain Blackheart. And all the pirates roared with laughter. Because although they had been nice to Jack, and quite liked him really, they were still mean-hearted ruffians. And they really enjoyed making someone walk the plank. Jack slipped downstairs with Ben. "All ready?" Jack gulped. "I think so."', "Ben gave him a sheep's bladder from the larder, which Jack stuffed under his jumper. And then he gave him a straw.", '"Then let\'s go," said Ben. They climbed back up on deck.', "The walking of the plank was scheduled for noon - because that's when the Captain said the shark's liked their lunch.", 'Jack walked up to the parrot. He stayed very quiet, then pulled one of its feathers out. "AWKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK," screeched the parrot. And the noise was so huge, all the pirates crowded around to see what was happening.', "And while they were doing that, Ben slipped up to the captain's deck, and re-set the ship's wheel, so that it would be sailing steadily towards shore.", '"Sorry about that, bird," said Jack. "He should be punished for that," squawked the parrot. "Well, I suppose I should," said Jack. "But since I\'m being made to walk the plank at noon, I\'m not really bothered…." And all the rascals and ruffians laughed, even Captain Blackheart. Two more hours passed. Jack chatted to the pirates, and picked up a few more tips on how to sharpen your cutlass. And they were all impressed by how brave he was. Finally, noon approached. "Prepare the plank," said Captain Blackheart.', "Jim stood up. He felt a bit nervous now. Because although they had a plan he couldn't be sure if it would work or not.", 'The plank was stretched out from the side of the ship. And all the pirates drew their cutlasses and pointed them at Jack. "Walk, lad," said Captain Blackheart. Jack started to walk nervously along the plank. It was very wobbly and he could see the waves down below. But, just a little way ahead, he could see land. Because Ben had re-set the course of the ship to bring it close to the harbour. Jack walked, and walked, and walked… Then….splash! He was in the water. He could feel himself sinking. And the water closing above his head.', "But then he reached for straw. He pushed it into the sheep's bladder and blew and blew and blew. And it inflated into a balloon.", 'Jack grabbed hold of it, and kicked his legs. And soon he was swimming towards shore. As he glanced behind, he could see the ship sailing away. And the pirates were cheering his death. "Hah, fooled then," said Jack. And very soon, he was back on dry land. As it happened, all the boys were coming out of the sailing school he had meant to go to, and so he joined them, and went back home by the first train. And that evening, he was safely re-united with his family. "Good to see you," said his Dad, ruffling his hair. "Glad to see you escaped those pirates without costing me a fortune in ransom money." "Well, yes," said Jack excitedly. "But I had to walk the plank and…and…and…." But all his six sisters were already laughing. "There goes Jack with his silly pirate stories again." But as he went to bed that night, Jack knew it was all true.', "And he wondered if he'd ever see the pirate school again.", 'One day, he thought. Just maybe…. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn7.txt b/text/sn7.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2f05381b78117052cb1a2727fb4009d0deb656c6 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn7.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Katie and the Invisible Umbrella Hello, this is Natasha, and I’m here with a story about Katie, who is an ordinary girl, but there is just one thing that is rather unusual about her. She’s a witch and she can do magic tricks. Katie’s Grandmother had all sorts of beautiful, but rather old fashioned, magical things. Many of them weren’t so useful these days, because science has caught up with magic in so many ways. For instance, before electric kettles were invented, witches had magic cauldrons that boiled the water without any need to put them on the fire. Well, Katie’s Grandma still used one of those to make her tea and coffee. And before phones were invented, witches used to call one another using crystal balls, and Katie’s Grandma absolutely refused to get a mobile phone or a computer, so if you wanted to send her a text message, you had to use a crystal ball. And of course she still kept a witch’s broomstick, though of course these days most witches prefer to drive a car or take the bus, because broomsticks are not very comfortable. But one of Grandma’s most beautiful possessions was her umbrella. It had a golden handle that was shaped like a head of a griffin. The fabric was decorated with old fashioned magic symbols, which Katie could not understand, because these days most witches learn to do spells in modern languages like English or French. But they were very beautiful and Katie loved looking at them. “Oi, you could say ‘sorry’, or ‘excuse me!’” exclaimed Katie. The man turned around and stared at her blankly like she wasn’t there. Katie continued home, but it wasn’t long before she collided with a traffic warden and then was nearly run over by a woman with a pram. “Aren’t people rude these days?” thought Katie. “It’s just a little bit of rain. They are all in such a hurry, you would think they were all running away from a rampaging elephant or something.” As she stepped through the door of the house, she half closed the umbrella, meaning to leave it in the hallway to dry off. And that was when she noticed something very peculiar about it. Because, until the umbrella snapped shut, she couldn’t see it. And then, when it went “click,” it appeared again. The next morning promised a bright and sunny day – but all the same, Katie took her umbrella with her to school. At break-time, Katie’s friends, Jenny and Isis, were talking about their favourite tv programme. It was one of those talent contests which are so popular these days, and they were discussing who was going to win. Suddenly they could hear Katie saying: “I think it will be Annabelle McTabith, because although she’s not beautiful like most stars, she’s got an amazing singing voice.” Next, Katie did something she had always wanted to do. She went into the Teachers’ Staff Room. She saw Miss Vile and Mr Phillpott sitting very cosily together, and she heard Mrs Jefferson saying, “That boy Darcy Thomas has so many airs and graces that you would think he was royalty,” and Miss Thomas was nodding and saying, “Well you should see the parents, they’re so stuck-up that on parents day I felt I ought to curtsy to them.” Katie snickered because Darcy really did fancy himself rather too much, and then she remembered that she had to keep quiet. The bell rang for lessons and Mr. Hutchinson said: “Oh no, I don’t think I can face the hooligans of Class 4C.” Katie hurried back to her class room. She sat down next to Isis and held the umbrella over both of them so that they were invisible together. Miss Vile came in, and the babble of children’s voices died down. The teacher cast her steely gaze over the room and noted the empty seats where Katie and Isis normally sat. When she turned her back, Katie let down the umbrella. There were gasps from those who saw the two friends appear. Miss Vile span around and stared at them. Katie put on her most innocent face, and Isis didn’t have to put on a face because she really was innocent. Miss Vile said: “Katie, there’s no need to bring that umbrella into the classroom. It’s got a sharp point on the end and it’s against Health and Safety.” And at the end of the lesson, when Katie asked for her umbrella back, Miss Vile said: “It’s confiscated Katie. You can ask me for it at the end of term.” It was supposed to be a secret that Katie was a witch, but of course Miss Vile had seen more than a few odd things happen during her time teaching her, and she had her suspicions. Her instinct told her that there was something pretty unusual about the umbrella, and of course, she was right. Suddenly it seemed like Miss Vile was everywhere, all at once. Some boys who were kicking bags around the cloakroom didn’t notice that Miss Vile was watching them. In class 4C, when Mr. Hutchinson’s back was turned, the “hooligans” started chatting to each other. Somehow they didn’t see that Miss Vile was in the room and noting down their names. When Isis and Katie were trying out lipstick in the girl’s loos, they didn’t realise that Miss Vile was standing behind them. Makeup was banned in school and they were both in trouble. In fact, it seemed like nobody could get away with anything anymore. No illegal snacks, no talking out of turn, no play-fights, no sneaking into out-of-bound places like the bike sheds, and no mucking around of any kind at all between lessons. On Friday evening, the detention class after school was the biggest that anyone had known. It had 30 people in it, and 27 of them had been put there by Miss Vile. And there are no prizes for guessing which teacher was wearing a very smug and satisfied smile on her face. Of course, Katie understood that Miss Vile was using the umbrella to make herself invisible. But there was nothing she could do about it. It was a good thing that nobody else knew, or they would have all blamed Katie for the new reign of terror that was gripping the school. That weekend, Grandmother came to visit, and Katie had to admit what had happened to her umbrella. “I’m really, really sorry Gran,” said Katie. “It’s terrible and I don’t know what to do about it.” At first, Grandma was a little bit grumpy about her missing umbrella. All Sunday she kept on making remarks like, “I only asked you to fetch it from the patisserie, not take it to school,” and “It’s an antique not a toy,” and “you can’t get another one like that these days for love or money.” And Mum chipped in too, telling Katie that it had been extremely silly of her to take such a valuable thing to school, and she only had herself to blame for what had happened. But by evening, Gran had softened her tone a bit, and just as she was getting ready to fly home, she said: “You know Katie, I’m probably a fool to do this, but I’m going to lend you my spare spectacles. And this time you do have my permission to take them to school, only you must promise to be very careful with them.” And she rumbled in her handbag – which was always so full of many more things than could possibly be kept in there, except by magic – and finally she found the case with her spare spectacles in them. Katie put the glasses on and looked at herself in the mirror. They were a very ornate pair, made of gold and decorated with precious stones. “Hmm, they don’t really suit your face, do they?” said Grandma. And she said a magic spell which made them look trendy – or rather Grandma’s idea of trendy – which meant the frames were large and square and bright blue. “Thanks Grandma,” said Katie,”But why are you lending them to me?” “You’ll see,” said Grandma. “Or rather, they will help you to see.” On Monday morning, Katie wore Grandma’s glasses to school. Jenny said, “Hello four eyes,” and Michelle thought they made her look cute. But Isis said that they were a total fashion disaster. Michael said “I didn’t know you were short-sighted Katie,” and Katie replied, “Neither did I ‘till yesterday.” It wasn’t until the break at lunchtime that Katie understood what the glasses were for. Isabelle was walking down the corridor and she sneakily took a piece of chewing gum out of her pocket and put it into her mouth. Katie was walking towards her, and was trying to signal frantically that Miss Vile was standing in a doorway and had seen the whole crime – but it was too late. Isabelle was signed up for detention. But of course what Katie also had seen, was that Miss Vile was holding up her umbrella over her head. Now she understood that the glasses enabled her to see everything – even things and people that were invisible. She decided to follow Miss Vile and see what she did next. She saw her go into the playground and catch a boy who climbed over the fence into the caretaker’s yard to retrieve a lost football. Then she saw Miss Vile go into the staff-room – and do you know what? She didn’t take down her umbrella. Katie came up to her and said: “Hello Miss Vile, would you like a piece of chewing gum?” and Miss Vile said: And Miss Vile smiled. “No they wouldn’t, would they? But as it happens, teachers can’t break the school rules. It would be setting a bad example and I would have to put myself in detention.” Katie laughed and said, “That’s good, because I don’t actually have any gum. But Miss, I’ve got a question. Do you think it’s ok for teachers to use magic?” And a rather uneasy smile passed over Miss Vile’s face, because she knew just as well as Katie that magic was against the school rules. And not just a little bit against them. “I mean,” said Katie, “if Miss Hepworth was to find out that your recent success at crime detection was all down to my Grandma’s magic umbrella, do you think she would be pleased?” And As Miss Hepworth was the head-teacher, Miss Vile realised that that was something she would not like to happen at all. Not one little bit. And wasn’t that a super story about Katie and her magic umbrella, I bet you wish that you had one. From me, Natasha, Goodbye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn70.txt b/text/sn70.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fbd3e1c128009919163f4dba11b446a04fb08601 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn70.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +--- This Christmas Story about has been written specially for Storynory by Angharad Lynn. Santa has been around for a few years, but he never goes out of fashion . Even the most modern children want to catch a glimpse of him... Read by Natasha Lee-Lewis. Duration 12 minutes. It was a few days before Christmas. Mum was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Harry and Rosie lay on the living room floor watching TV. “I want that for Christmas,” said Rosie as a Baby Cry-Cry appeared on the screen. “And that,” she added as a Magical Musical Mobile appeared. Then an advert came on for a dancing teddy bear. “Want that too,” said Rosie. “You have to write a list for Santa,” said Harry. “Otherwise he won’t know what you want.” “But I can’t write,” said Rosie, who was only three and a half. Suddenly she had an idea. “You write, Harry,” she said. Harry groaned. Although he could write, it took him a really long time. He had only just finished his own letter to Santa. “I can’t,” said Harry. “It will take too long, ask mum to do it.” “Mum,” said Rosie wailing as she made her way to the kitchen. “Harry won’t write my Christmas list.” Mum helped Rosie write her Christmas list. When they had finished they put the list up the chimney behind the fire place in the living room. “But how will Santa get my letter?” asked Rosie. “Doh,” said Harry, who had turned off the TV and was waiting for something to eat. “He sends Rudolf or one of the elves to pick it up.” “But why doesn’t he come himself?” asked Rosie. “I want to meet him.” “You can’t meet him,” said Harry. “Why not?” asked Rosie. “Because he doesn’t want children to see him,” said Harry. “But I want to see Santa,” said Rosie wailing. “I really, really want to see him.” Rosie really really really wanted to see Santa. She talked about it all the time. In the end Mum promised to take her to a department store to see him. So one morning they set off for the shops nice and early but even though they were early there were still lots of people queuing to see Santa. “I’m afraid the wait will be two hours,” said a kind looking lady in a smart store uniform. “Oh no,” said Harry. “We can’t wait two whole hours.” “But I want to see Santa,” said Rosie. “It is a long time to wait,” said Mum. “We could just go to the toy department or the café for a cake instead.” “Yes,” said Harry. “No,” said Rosie. “I want to wait.” So they waited and waited and Harry felt tired and hungry and thirsty and bored but Rosie said she would be really sad if they didn’t get to meet Santa. Suddenly Harry had an idea. He whispered in Rosie’s ear so that Mum wouldn’t hear him So the children and their mother had cake and drinks and then they went to look at the toys. But they didn’t buy anything because it was so close to Christmas and they would have so much to open on the day. It was the evening of Christmas eve and Harry and Rosie were laying out a plate of mince pies for Santa. Harry fetched a plate from the cupboard and Rosie carefully placed some mince pies on the plate. Then Harry fetched a carrot from the fridge and put it next to the mince pies. “Shall we leave out a glass of milk too?” asked Rosie, who always liked a glass of milk herself before she went to bed. “Yes ok,” said Harry, opening the fridge and getting out the carton. Harry and Rosie laid out the snacks and then they went upstairs to get everything ready for the trick they were to play on Santa. Rosie fetched the torch from Daddy’s tool box so that she would be able to see in the dark, Harry fetched Rosie’s skipping rope and put it und the bedclothes. Harry and Rosie each had their own room but, because it was Christmas Mum and Dad said they could sleep in the same room so Dad had put up the camp bed in Rosie’s room for Harry to sleep on. Harry and Rosie went downstairs to say goodnight to their parents. “Can we go to bed now?” asked Rosie. Mum looked very surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you ask to go to bed before Rosie,” she said. “I suppose you really, really want your Christmas presents, don’t you?” said Dad, looking up from the newspaper he was reading. Dad took the children up to bed. They laid out their stockings at the end of the bed. “Shall I read you a story?” asked Dad walking over to the bookcase. “Actually, Dad do you mind if we don’t have one tonight?” asked Harry. “It’s just we are waiting for Father Christmas.” “Oh all right,” said Dad, “Now be good and go to sleep. I don’t want to hear you both talking all night.” When Dad had gone Rosie switched on the torch. She had to be sure not to fall asleep. Otherwise the plan would not work. The door began to creak. Rosie sat up with a start, she must have been beginning to doze off. But when she switched on her torch she saw it was just Harry going to the loo, not Santa after all. Rosie lay back down in bed and waited some more. She heard the door begin to open. “Harry,” she hissed to her brother. He was waiting with the lasso he had made from Rosie’s skipping rope, ready to throw it round Santa so that he could not leave without speaking to them. The door opened and…mum walked in. “Hello children, I’ve just come to give you a kiss goodnight,” she said. “Harry what are you doing with Rosie’s skipping rope? It is time to go to sleep.” After mum had gone Harry and Rosie sat up talking a little longer. Would Santa never come? Harry opened his eyes. It was still dark outside but the stocking at the end of his bed, which was more of a sack than a stocking really, was bulging. “Rosie,” said Harry shaking his sister. “Rosie, he’s been. We missed Santa.” Rosie sat up and began rubbing her eyes. “Oh but I really wanted to meet him,” she said. “Oh,” she said. “I don’t want that.” Harry looked at the football annual Rosie had disgarded. He would have liked that himself. Oh well. He had his own presents to open. He ripped off the paper of the first one. A baby cry-cry. No way. “I don’t want this,” said Harry. Rosie by now had opened her second present – a toy airplane. Harry’s second present was even worse than the first, a pink dress. The more presents they opened, the more disappointed the children became. “Oh well, at least I can eat these,” said Harry pulling out a packet of sweets, as he sat among a dancing teddy bear, a packet of hair clips and a book about fairies. Mum and Dad came into the room. “Oh you’re up already,” said Mum. “How are your presents?” “Awful,” said Harry. “Horrid,” said Rosie. “What do you mean?” asked Dad. Dad looked down at Harry’s pile, and then across at Rosie’s. “Do you think you may have got the wrong stocking?” said Dad. Suddenly everything made sense. Harry leapt with joy onto the Thunderbirds characters, the remote control boat and the football boots. Rosie kissed baby cry-cry. “You know what Rosie?” said Harry. “we were trying to trick Santa, but in the end I think it was him who tricked us.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn71.txt b/text/sn71.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..5c82abd9a693d746be31a8eb4e0ca8b878906a0d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn71.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Christmas Miracle by Alisa Pullum Once upon a time, there was a house on top of a very tall hill. In that house, there lived three little children. There was Matt the oldest, which would always get into trouble with his little sister Erika, and little brother Chris. Matt would go up to Erika and take her most favorite little doll while saying, "Oh Erika! Help me, Help me!" in a squeaky girls voice and prance around her room. Then he would go outside and run around the yard still saying "Please help me Erika! Oh Help, Help!" still using his squeaky girly voice. Chris would always chase Matt and grab Erika\'s doll. Then everything would be calm, Erika and Chris would play a little board game, and Matt would sit on the couch and pout all evening long, just because his little siblings had won. Mother would then come home with groceries and ask them,"how was your day?" Erika and Chris would always say,"It was Ok, I guess." Just because they didn\'t want Matt to get in trouble. When ever Matt gets in trouble he gets yelled at all day, and the next day he won\'t even talk, not even one word would come out of his mouth. So every Doll!" day when something bad happens, they would keep their mouth\'s shut. But one day Matt did something very bad. He took one of Erika\'s dolls, using his squeaky girls voice and pranced around the room, as usual. But when he went out side he gave the doll to his dog, Harold. Harold took the innocent little doll and shook it with his teeth. There was stuffing going everywhere like it was snowing! Oh how Erika screamed and cried,"Down Boy! Give Me Back My Doll!" She begged that for a while until Harold finally let go. The yard was a mess! there was a doll arm there, and a leg here, and the little doll head was right at her feet. Chris could not fix or help with this. When mother came home that day she saw Erika crying with her doll head in her arms and Chris comforting her. On the couch was Matt laughing and saying, "YES! Victory is mine, all mine!" Then she asked Erika what had happened. "Matt gave my doll to Harold and now I only have her head." she said moaning with tears. Moms face got red, as red as the burning sun, as red as fire burning clearly in the yard. She went to Matt and grabbed him by the ear. "I\'m sure santa won\'t give you any presents!" She said. Matt\'s ears got scolded with these words and moaned with pain. He was in his room yelling and kicking everywhere! Three months passed and soon there was three days before christmas. Erika still had her doll head in her arms and had never forgiven her brother after that day. Every night she would prey and say, " Dear sweet santa, your beard as white as snow, your bells sound as beautiful as a carol, your suit as red as blood, oh please fix my doll." Then she would go to bed. On Christmas eve, her family came over and exchanged gifts all night long. After the feast, every one went home. So Erika went under the tree and placed her doll head under it and then said, "Dear sweet santa, your beard as white as snow, Your sleigh as sparkly as sun rays, your suit as red as blood, oh please fix my doll." So she went to sleep and had a very strange dream. It was Christmas and Matt got a large bike and rode it outside all day long. Chris got a cool board game and played it peacefully. But in Erika\'s box there was a piece of coal! She woke up terrified and went down stairs to look under the christmas tree. But she did not just see presents, she saw santa holding her doll head! He put christmas dust on it and in seconds the doll had a body with a beautiful dress on it! Even a crown that even she could wear! Tears of joy ran down her cheeks and before she new it, she was hugging santa clause exclaiming, "Oh, thank you santa! Oh, thank you so much! I knew you would come, I just knew it!" Santa hugged her back and said with a smile, "If you are good I will come with a present just for you. I heard you talking about me so I would like to give you a bell from my sleigh but be careful. If you do not believe me, you will not hear it\'s sweet music it would play for you." More tears of joy ran down her cheeks and she said with joy, "I will always believe you santa. I will, I will!" She hugged him tighter than before and finally let go and when she did, he snapped his fingers and he disappeared while saying, "HO, HO, HO. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!" and he was off! Everyone woke up and Chris got a peaceful board game and played it, Erika got what she wanted, and sadly, Matt got something, but it was a piece of coal! from that day on, everything in that house was peaceful and they all lived happily ever after. Even Matt. The Ice Doll by Michelle Dufflocq There once was a little girl named Sunny. She had no brothers or sisters, and at her school everyone teased her. In general she was lonely. But one night on Christmas Eve at exactly mid-night, she wished on a star. Dear star: I would like a friend, the kindest and sweetest friend ever. I would like her for a Christmas present. I do not need anything else. If you grant me this wish, I shall be the happiest girl on earth. And then she went to sleep. The next day was Christmas. There were all sorts of presents to open and lovely things to eat. After that Sunny went outside to play in the snow. She went running all around the yard looking for her friend. Suddenly she tripped on something. Owww! She said, then standing up to go see what she tripped on. It was a small doll; that has about the size of her hand. She was so beautiful yet so dainty and delicate, that she seemed to be made out of ice. You shall be my friend. What’s your name? My name is Sunny, said the girl. My name is Ice, said the doll. Yet her lips didn’t move. Well Ice, said Sunny. We shall do everything that friends do, we shall go ice-skating, we will read books, go to the sea side in when it’s warm again, and play together. Come with me, we shall go inside, said Sunny, picking up the doll. But as soon as Sunny and Ice were in the house, Sunny notist that Ice was slightly smaller than before. I must be seeing things, thot Sunny. Sunny and Ice did everything friend do, they read books together, baked cookies together, went ice skating, and played games together. Soon it was time to go to sleep. By that time the ice doll was about the size of a pea. I shall make you a little bed on my dresser, so you can sleep peacefully, said Sunny. They both got in to bed, and dreamt sweet dreams. The sun rose and Sunny opened her eyes. She got up, put on her dressing gown, put on her slippers, and ran to go say good morning to Ice. But alas, instead of Ice all there was was a small puddle of water. For Ice was indeed made out of ice. And she had melted during the nights sleep. Sunny looked into the puddle, planning to see her reflection. But instead she saw Ice, with a tear in her eye. But alas, Sunny’s life continued. She went to school, did her homework, and before she knew it, it was Christmas again. There she was trudging threw the snow, but suddenly she tripped on something. Owww! Said Sunny, and then going to see what it was. And it was Ice! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn72.txt b/text/sn72.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fc5cdea092ebd64f56b75ee3510582f1d586d847 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn72.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the Audio of Big Sister’s Clothes The big sister was called Debbie. And the little sister was called Daisy. Debbie was seven. And Daisy was four. And most of the time, they were great friends. Even when Daisy broke some of Debbie’s toys, she didn’t mind too much. And most of the time Daisy didn’t mind being the little sister. But just occasionally, it made her very cross indeed. And this story is about one of those days. A modern story specially written for Storynory. Read by Natasha. Duration 11.30 minutes. It started out a pretty ordinary sort of day. It was the holidays, and there was no school, so as soon as the two girls got up, they started playing. They played with their dolls in their room. They went down to breakfast, and played with their eggy soldiers. And then they went out to the garden and played on the swings. And Daisy decided it was shaping up into quite a nice day. Because the thing she really like best of all was playing with her big sister. But then it all started to go very wrong. “Come on Debbie,” said their Mum. “It’s time to go to Girl Guides.” “Me come too, me come too,” said Daisy, jumping up and down. “Don’t be silly,” said Mum. “You have to be seven to join the girl guides.” Daisy felt a bit cross about that. Still, it would be fun when Debbie got home. But when Debbie did get home, she didn’t have any time to play. She had to work on her school project. “Can I work on my school project?” asked Daisy. But Mum just laughed. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You don’t even go to proper school yet.” And Daisy felt a bit cross about that as well. After that, it was time for bed. “I’ll take you up,” said Dad, picking Daisy up off the sofa. “What about Debbie?” said Daisy. “She can stay up later,” said Dad. “Because she’s the big sister.” And that, thought Daisy, is that. Now I’m really cross. Really, really. “It’s not fair,” she wailed. “When am I going to be the big sister?” Dad paused for a second. “Well, never,” he said. “Debbie’s always going to be the big sister, and your always going to be the little sister.” “But, but, but….” But Daisy was so cross she couldn’t even finish the sentence. “That’s just the way it is,” said Dad. “Night, titch…” said Debbie. And after that, Daisy sat in bed. And she felt so, so, so angry, she felt she might explode. Never be the big sister, she thought to herself. “It’s just not fair.” She was just about to close her eyes when suddenly she saw a fairy at the bottom of her bed. “Who are you?” she asked. The fairy skipped across to Daisy’s pillow. “I’m the age fairy,” she said. “The age fairy?” asked Daisy. “What’s that?” And then it dawned on her. “Can you…can you help little sisters who really want to be big sisters?” The fairy nodded. “But only if they really want to.” “I really do,” said Daisy. “Really, really.” And so the fairy skipped into the wardrobe. She waved her wand, and then she pointed to a red dress. “I’ve turned that into Big Sisters Clothes,” she said. “Just put on that dress, and suddenly you’ll be the big sister, and Debbie will be the little sister.” And then the fairy vanished. And as she closed her eyes and went to sleep, Daisy was wondering what it might be like be the big sister for a change. She was a bit frightened, but also excited…because big sisters seemed to have so much fun. The next morning Daisy woke up early. She was really excited about being the big sister, so she snuck into the wardrobe and put on the red dress. And suddenly she was the big sister. “Oh-my-gosh,” she said. “This is so amazing.” She whirled around a little bit. And then she saw that Debbie was waking up. And Debbie was the little sister. “I want to play with you, said Debbie, holding out her favourite Barbie doll. But just now Daisy wasn’t sure she wanted to play with Debbie. She was enjoying being seven a bit too much. “In a minute,” she said. “I want to play with you NOW!” shrieked Debbie. And then Dad walked into the room, carrying a cup of coffee and a newspaper. And Debbie was crying and crying about how she wanted to play with her big sister, and stamping her foot, and going bright red in the face. “We, er, just play with her for a bit will you Daisy,” said Dad. But Daisy didn’t really want to. “But, er, Dad…” “Great, thanks,” said Dad, walking out of the room. And so Daisy had to play with her little sister just to cheer her up. “Daisy, Daisy, where are you?” shouted Mum, running into the room. “What?” said a startled Daisy. “You haven’t taken the dog out,” shouted Mum. “She’s barking and barking.” So Daisy put on her coat, and walked outside with the dog. But the dog was quite strong and was pulling her this way and that, and she was feeling quite cold. So she was relieved when she got inside, because she was really hungry now and needed some hot breakfast. “Sorry,” said Debbie, when Daisy arrived at the table. “I thought you’d gone out so I ate your eggy soldiers.” “Wha, wha, whaaaaaaat!” screamed Daisy. “Now don’t argue girls,” said Mum. “But she ate my breakfast,” shouted Daisy. “Well, she’s only small, she can’t help it,” said Mum. “I’ll get you some museli instead.” “I don’t like muesli,” grumped Daisy. “Well, you have to eat it because you’re a big girl, and you have to eat healthy foods.” “I want a chocolate milk shake,” said Daisy. “Don’t be silly,” said Mum. And so Daisy had two spoonfuls of muesli but she really couldn’t eat any more than that because it was yucky. And when she had finished, she thought she would go out on the swings to play. “Where are you going, young lady,” said Mum. “To the swings,” said Daisy. “Not until you’ve tidied your room,” said Mum. “Done what?” Daisy was shocked and horrified. She never tied her room….not ever. “Go on, quick,” said Mum. So Daisy trudged upstairs. And on the bedroom floor, Debbie had pulled lots of toys out of their boxes and spread them everywhere. And now Daisy had to pick them all up. “It’s so unfair,” she said out loud. Finally she was finished, and she went back downstairs. Maybe at last she could go out to the garden and play. “What about your project?” said Dad. “My…my….” But Daisy was speechless. “It has to be finished by today,” said Dad. “Just a minute,” said Daisy firmly. And she went back upstairs to her bedroom. She went to the wardrobe. And she took off the red dress. And put on a little girls dress instead. So that suddenly she was the little sister again. “I want to play with you,” she said to Debbie, when she went back downstairs again. “Oh, I’m busy now,” said Debbie. “That’s okay,” said Daisy sweetly. “I’ll go and play in the garden by myself.” She played by herself for the rest of the morning. And decided that being the little sister wasn’t so bad after all. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn73.txt b/text/sn73.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..d2a8f56748d6e94c1367d4c2b7bb5f55cbc39cf4 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn73.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Christmas is the happiest time of year, but sometimes something terrible happens – like a kid misses it all together. That’s what happened one year to a girl called Natalie. Natalie’s life was almost perfect – apart from her annoying little brother called Joe. There was just one thing she didn’t like doing – and that was getting up in the morning. Her Dad was always warning that one day she would miss something important. And one day she did. But fortunately this is time of year when no problem can’t be solved…. with just a little magic. Read by Natasha. Duration 14.48. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. The Girl Who Missed Christmas - Once upon a time, there was a little girl called Natalie. Natalie was six. She lived in a nice house, on a nice street. She had a little brother called Joe, and a dog called Marmalade. And most of the time Natalie was happy. She played with her friends. She played with her dog. Sometimes she even played with Joe – when he wasn’t being annoying. But there was one thing Natalie didn’t like. Getting up. Every morning her Dad would come into her room and say: “C’mon Natalie, time to get up.” And Natalie would say: “Just one more minute.” “Now, now, you’ll be late for school,” said Dad. “Just one tiny minute,” Natalie would say. “Pleeeeeeease…..” “Now, Natalie.” “It’s so warm in bed,” Natalie would moan. And so it went on every morning. Dad would shout at Natalie to get up. Mum would shout at her. And Marmalade the dog would bark. And Joe would already be up. And then Mum would shout at her again. And the dog would bark even louder. But Natalie just pulled the cover over her ears. Because Natalie just really, really, really hated getting out of bed in the morning. “You know, Natalie, one day you’re going to miss something really important because you stay in bed too long,” said Dad. As it happened, something very important was about to happen. The nights were getting longer, and the leaves were falling from the trees, and soon Natalie was getting very excited because it was getting close to Christmas. And she had so many different things she had asked for. She wanted a new game for her Nintendo DS. And a doll that cried real tears. And a new DVD. And lots and lots and lots of things. Of course, she had to rehearse for the school play – except she nearly missed it because she was sleeping in. And she had to go and see Santa in the grotto – but she nearly missed that as well because she didn’t want to get out of bed. “I just don’t know what to do about all this sleeping,” said Mum. But Natalie didn’t care. If I want to stay in bed, why shouldn’t I? she decided to herself. So finally Christmas Eve arrived. And Natalie was so excited she found it really hard to get to sleep. She wanted to stay and see if she could really see Santa. She tried ever so hard to stay awake as long as she could. But eventually, she went off to sleep. And she slept. And slept. And slept. At one point she heard Dad coming into the room to wake her – but she just rolled over, put the pillow over her head, and went back to sleep again. Finally she decided she had been so long in bed that it was starting to get boring. She pulled away the pillow and looked towards the window. It was morning. “Wow, it’s Christmas day,” said Natalie. “I’m so excited.” She looked towards the end of her bed. But where was the stocking? she wondered. Where had Santa left all his toys? Natalie jumped out of bed, and ran downstairs. She was quite out of breath – because she’d never jumped out of bed before. “Mum, Dad, its Christmas,” she shouted. She glanced around the room. Joe was playing with a new toy car. Mum was folding away some used wrapping paper. Dad was reading a boring looking book with no pictures — in fact, the sort of book Mum gave him every year. And Marmalade the dog was eating something that looked suspiciously like turkey leftovers. “Mum, Dad, it’s Christmas,” shouted Natalie, even louder this time. There was a silence. Everyone looked at her – everyone that is except Marmalade who was busy eating turkey. “It’s Christmas…isn’t it?” said Natalie, more quietly now. “You mean, it was Christmas,” said Dad. “You slept right through,” said Mum. “We tried to wake you,” said Dad. “But, but, but….” said Natalie. “I told you you’d miss something important one day,” said Dad. “It was really good,” said Joe. “We had loads of food, and loads of presents.” “And I missed it,” wailed Natalie. And she started to cry. And cry. And cry. “Sorry,” said Dad. “It also means you didn’t get any presents from Santa. But don’t worry, there will be another Christmas next year.” “It’s not faaaaair,” wailed Natalie. “But I always told you you’d miss something important if you didn’t get out of bed in time,” said Dad. “Now, help me clear away all this wrapping paper….” But Natalie just walked out of the house. She walked through the garden. And across the park. When she got there, she cried and cried. She was so upset about missing Christmas. And she didn’t know how she could wait for a whole year. Now, it so happened that it was still very early in the morning. And the sun was only just coming up, so it was still quite dark. And at that very moment, Santa was just trudging his way across the sky in his sleigh on his way back to Lapland. He was very tired. And so were the reindeer, because they’d been all around the world delivering presents to all the children. But, even though he was tired, he couldn’t help noticing one little girl sitting on a park bench all by herself. And crying and crying. “Whoa there Rudolf,” said Santa. “I wonder what’s wrong with that girl.” “Maybe she didn’t like her presents,” said Rudolf, who was hungry and tired, and wanted to get back to his grotto to get some food. “Kids today! No gratitude….” “We better see,” said Santa. And so he pulled the sleigh down into the park. “What’s the matter?” asked Santa. But Natalie was so upset, she just kept crying, and her eyes were so full of water she couldn’t see anything. “Huh, she’s probably upset because she only got one Nintendo, ten Polly Pockets, and a dozen Barbie dolls,” said Rudolph. “Kids today! When I started this job they were happy with a small piece of wood and an orange. The stuff you have to carry noawadays. It’s hardly surprising my back hurts.” “Didn’t you like your presents?” said Santa. Natalie rubbed her eyes, and then looked up. And she gasped. Santa was sitting right next to her. “Oh-my-gosh,” she said. “Is it….you?” “Shhhhh,” said Santa. “You see I’m not really supposed to show myself to children.” “We’ll be in trouble for this,” moaned Rudolph. “I told you we should have gone straight home.” But Natalie gave Santa a hug. “You see Santa, I slept right through Christmas….and now I’ve missed it.” “Oh dear, oh dear,” said Santa. Then he looked towards the house. “We’ve still got a few things left in the sack,” he said. “So go inside, and check the fireplace in your bedroom in a few minutes.” “But, but….” “Just go,” said Santa. So Natalie stated to walk home. And Santa went back to his sleigh. “We’re not doing another delivery are we,” said Rudolph. “Because, that’s overtime, that’swhat that is…I’ll need an extra carrot for that.” “Oh, c’mon you lazy animal,” said Santa. And then Natalie came back into the house. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Jingle bells was playing on the hi-fi. Everyone was wearing hats. And her mum had re-heated some turkey and made some fresh roast potatoes. “We thought we’d re-start Christmas,” said Dad. “Just for you.” And Natalie jumped up and down, then ran upstairs. Because in the fireplace in her bedroom there was a stocking bursting with presents – there was a doll with real tears, a princess on a white pony, a game for her nintendo, and, finally, after she had opened all the other presents from Santa there was one special one from Dad – An Alarm Clock! So for the rest of the day, Natalie had the best Christmas ever. And do you know what? A couple of weeks later it was the first day of a new term. Dad came into the bedroom. “Wake up, Natalie. Time to go back to school,” he said. The he looked around. “Natalie,” he said, sounding worried. “Natalie..” But he couldn’t see her anywhere. Then he heard a voice from downstairs. So he rushed down to kitchen. And Natalie was out of bed, had put on her school uniform and brushed her hair, and had made breakfast for everyone. “I’m never going to be late for anything again, Dad,” she said. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn74.txt b/text/sn74.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..139587d9a37e4acfad0d2a53029a60888aa5bd8d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn74.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 22.51. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. It was December. Jason and his family were in the Airport. The loud speaker announced: “Last call for Flight IC 377 to Reykjavik. All passengers due to board this flight, please make your way to departure gate 42.” And Dad said: “Bags of time yet. I still need some duty-frees.” And Mum said: “Just wait here while I pop to the loo.” And Jason waited. And when Mum and Dad both finally got back, they all had to run to catch the plane. They were the last on board – “as usual” – thought Jason. When eventually they were in the air above the grey clouds of London, Mum said to him: “What a sad face you have? Aren’t you excited to be spending Christmas in Iceland? Why there’s ice and snow guaranteed – and volcanos too…. ” “Well yes,” said Jason, “but..” “But what?” asked Dad “But Santa doesn’t go to Iceland does he?” said Jason. “What’s the point of spending Christmas in the one country where Santa doesn’t visit. Even if there’s ice and snow and volcanoes, Christmas isn’t any use without Santa.” Mum and Dad both laughed. “Why of course he visits iceland,” said Dad. “It’s practically next door to where he lives. It’s his very first stop on his round-the-world tour every Christmas.” Jason tried to look cheerful: “Is that all right then?” asked Dad, “because you don’t look completely convinced.” And Jason said: ”Molly at school told me that Santa doesn’t like Iceland and he never goes there.” “Ha! Don’t believe every bit of idle gossip you hear in the playground. Why would Santa not want to go to Iceland? His reindeer love ice and snow. It’s hot places like Australia that they find difficult.” And even though Jason knew that Dad wasn’t always right about everything, he decided to believe him this time, because what he said sounded like it was true. And by the time they landed, he was feeling excited about Christmas in Iceland. And it was true that Iceland was an amazing place. They stayed with Dad’s old University friend – whose name was Magnus. He lived on his own in Reykjavik, which is the capital, and he even though he was Dad’s age, he seemed quite young and friendly, and he quite often said funny or interesting things. He told them that by law, all Icelandic houses must be built strong enough to withstand earthquakes. And all the hot water in Icelandic homes came straight out the ground, already hot. And sometimes farmers would dig up potatoes in the fields that were already cooked. And Magnus and his girlfriend took Jason and his family out for drives and walks to see frozen lakes, icy glaziers, and bright red streams of boiling lava from the volcanos. At that time of year, the sun only rose at 11am in the morning – and it set by 4pm in the afternoon. But sometimes when they were really lucky, they saw great beams of green, yellow and blue light that curved round the sky like giant flames – and those were the famous Northern Lights. They were fantastic – 100 times better than fireworks on bonfire night. But it was only after they had been there a couple of days, that Jason remembered to ask Magnus if it was true that Santa really did visit Iceland. They were just finishing dinner, and Jason’s mum laughed: “He’s been ever so worried because somebody told him at school that Santa doesn’t come here.” And Magnus looked very grave and said: “That’s right. He doesn’t.” And Jason felt the blood run cold out of his cheeks and he thought he might be sick. “Oh, don’t joke about Santa,” said Mum. “Jason’s deadly serious about him.” “I’m not joking,” said Magnus, “but don’t worry Jason, because we are very lucky here. We have thirteen little Imps who do Santa’s work for him – and if you are interested, I’ll tell you the story.” And Jason was very interested, because he thought Magnus was good at telling stories. And this is what Magnus told them: “A long time ago, when Santa first got into the toy business, he set up his factory in the mountains of Iceland. He married an Icelandic girl called Gryla, and they had thirteen sons – all Impish boys – who used to help them in the factory. And they also had a black cat, who grew and grew until he was simply enormous. For a while Santa was very happy. Every Christmas, children would make their way up to his special toy shop, and Santa and Gryla would hand out presents. But one Christmas Day, when Santa finished work, he went to look in the kitchen cupboard for something warming to drink. And to his surprise, he found that the door to the cupboard was locked. And as he shook and rattled the door, he heard a sound from within, – something like children crying. Santa always had a hammer and chisel in his belt for making toys – and he took those out and broke the lock on the door. And inside the cupboard, he found six little children, who shrank back in terror from him. “Yo, ho ho,” he said. “Don’t be frightened. It’s only me, Santa, and I like little children.” “You like us for dinner, you mean,” said one little girl. “Perish the thought! No, no no. I like to make toys and bring them to children as presents,”he said. “Even naughty children get a present from Santa – and don’t believe anyone who tells you different.” And gradually the children came out of the cupboard, and explained that they had come to the factory for their christmas presents, – but they had been caught like mice by a giant black cat, who had picked them up by their collars brought them to this cupboard. Then Santa’s wife, Gryla, had locked the door and said that they would be served for Christmas dinner because they had been naughty children. And when Santa heard this story, at first he didn’t believe them because it was so terrible – but then Gryla came into the kitchen and was furious with him for sneaking into the cupboard and letting their Christmas dinner escape before she had a chance to cook it.” And that was how Santa learned that his wife had turned into a child-eating troll. So of course he had to leave her. He moved to Lapland, and took his reindeer with him. But his thirteen Impish boys stayed behind in Iceland and carried on making toys in the factory. Children didn’t come to the factory anymore, because it was too dangerous, and so every christmas the Imps came to all the houses of Iceland with presents. Only they didn’t always bring nice presents. If a child had been naughty, they left a potato instead. And because they were Imps, they also liked to steal things from the house, especially food. And Magnus said that as it was December the 12th, the first Imp, whose name was Gully, was due to visit that very night, and what he liked best was sheep’s milk, so they had better leave some out for him. And if Jason left his shoes on the window sill, he might find a present inside them the next morning. So they left out some sheep’s milk, and Jason’s shoes, and in the morning the milk was gone. “Too bad,” said Dad. “You should have done your homework better. Now you’re getting potatoes for Christmas.” “That’s Rubbish!” said Jason. “I don’t believe in those Imps. It’s just your idea of a joke. You told Magnus to make up that silly story.” But Magnus swore that it was a true story. And he said that that night, they would be visited by Stubby, who liked to drink warm milk. So they left some warm milk out for Stubby, and Jason again put his shoes on the window sill. And in the morning, the warm milk was gone and inside his shoe Jason found – A bar of chocolate. And Jason ate the chocolate. But it he still didn’t believe the story about the 13 Christmas Imps. He thought it was just Dad and Magnus playing a trick on him. And the following night, Magnus said that they would be visited by Itty Bitty,and that he was very small and would sneak into the kitchen like a mouse and steal any crumb that he could find. And in the morning, Magnus said he was sure that Itty Bitty had been and had nibbled some cheese and biscuits. And in his shoe, Jason found – a toy car. He liked the car. But he still didn’t believe in the 13 Christmas Imps. And the following night, Magnus said that they would be visited by Pot Scraper, who was extremely thin, and was so hungry that he would steal any left-overs or scraps. And instead of clearing away his plate after dinner, Magnus left it on the table, and in the morning it was licked clean. And next to his shoe, Jason found a book about famous footballers – he read the book, – but still he didn’t believe in the 13 Christmas Imps. And the following night, Magnus said that they would be followed by Bowl Licker. And he left out a red wooden bowl that his girlfriend had used to make a chocolate cake. And in the morning it was licked clean. And next to his shoes, Jason found a little wooden helicopter with blades that went round by solar power. He had seen one of those when he had been out shopping with Mum in London – and he remembered how Mum had said what a great idea it was to learn about renewable energy – and he reckoned that she had brought it with her to Iceland. And although he thought the solar-powered helicopter was interesting, he still didn’t believe in the 13 Christmas Imps. And the following night Magnus said that they would be visited by Door Slammer. And while Jason lay in bed. he heard all the doors in the house slamming, one by one – and it was really creepy. But he thought it was just Dad and Magnus playing a trick. And in the morning, beside his shoe, he found a DVD of Kung Fu Panda. And he watched the DVD, but still he didn’t believe in the 13 Christmas Imps. And the following Night Magnus said that they would be visited by Skyr Gobbler. He explained that Skry liked yoghurt. And so he left some out for the Imp. And in the morning it was gone. And beside his shoe, Jason found – a racing car set, with tracks, and electric stunt cars that could loop the loop in mid air. And Jason though that the present was really cool. But still he didn’t believe in the 13 Christmas Imps. And that night, Magnus said that they would be visited by Sausage Snatcher, who was really old and wrinkly, and whose face was dirty and sooty. He was good at climbing into the rafters of the house where in the old days they used to hang sausages. And so Magnus left a sausage up in the loft for him. And in the morning, the sausage was gone. And in his shoe, Jason found - A tangerine. And Jason ate the tangerine. But he still didn’t believe in the 13 Christmas Imps. And that night, Magnus said that they would be visited by Window Peeper. He said that he would be looking through the windows to see what he could steal. So he left out some chocolates on the table. And that night, as he lay in bed, Jason heard a noise at the window. And he got up and drew the curtain, and expected to see Dad or Magnus. But instead he saw a huge black cat. It’s green eyes stared at him, and then it disappeared into the shadows. Jason thought that was rather creepy. And in the morning, the chocolates were gone, and by his shoes, Jason found - Two tickets to a West-End show. And Dad said that the Imp must have left them for Mum. So Jason gave them to her and she was really pleased. But still Jason’ didn’t believe in the 13 Christmas Imps – because how would they know that Mum wanted to see “Love-Story on Ice?” And that night, Magnus said that they would be visited by Doorway Sniffer. He liked to hang around by the kitchen door, sniffing for the smell of fresh bread. So he left a loaf of crusty bread on the table. And in the morning it was gone. And by his shoe Jason found - A large deer-stalker hat, and Dad said that the Imp must have left it for him, and he was really pleased. But still Jason did not believe in the 13 Christmas Imps, because how would they know that Dad had terrible taste in clothes? And that night Magnus said that they would be visited by Meat Hooker, who liked to dangle a hook down the chimney and catch any ham or fish that was smoking there. Magnus didn’t have a chimney, but he left a lamb chop out on the kitchen table for him, and in the morning it was gone. And in his left shoe, Jason found - A 16 Gigabyte Mp3 player – and he thought that was pretty cool. But still he wasn’t sure about the Christmas Imps – because how would they know that he had asked Santa for an MP3 player? And that night would be Christmas Eve. And Magnus said that they would be visited by the last of the Imps, whose name was Candle Snatcher, and he liked to steal light bulbs, and so he left a 50 watt bulb on the kitchen table for him. And Jason thought that he would finally prove that the 13 Imps didn’t exist. He would get up in the night, hide by the kitchen door, and catch Dad or Magnus red-handed as they stole the light bulb off the table. And so that night he stayed awake. And when it was really, really late he reached over to turn on the lamp by his bed – but it didn’t switch on. “That’s strange,” he thought. The bulb must have broken. He crept onto the landing, and down the stairs, and as he was next to the kitchen door, he heard a noise from within. “I bet that’s one of them stealing the light bulb,” he said. And so he jumped through the door and shouted “Caught you!” as he flicked the switch of the kitchen light. But no light came on. And it was dark inside the kitchen. “Dad? Magnus? Is that you?” he asked. But there was no reply. Just then the sky through the kitchen window turned pale green and the room filled with an eery light. And by the kitchen table, he saw a little figure. It had a strange, yellow face, with bright cat-like eyes- and pointy ears. In its hand it held a light bulb. The figure started to float upwards and backwards without moving its feet, and in a moment or two it had vanished through the glass of the window – even though it was tripple-glazed and firmly shut. And in the morning there was nothing by Jason’s shoe. But he did believe in the 13 Christmas Imps. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn75.txt b/text/sn75.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..e8113f8203833883d51835924e61ffd6d7492ae6 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn75.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The thrill and excitement of Halloween run through this story of a boy whose mother takes him to a magical pumpkin patch. When Jack starts to cut eyes and a mouth into his pumpkin, he is in for a big surprise. Written for Storynory by Marlon Heimerl\tof halloweencostumes.com Read by Natasha. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. The long station wagon climbed up the hill to the pumpkin patch on the ridge. In his seat, Little Jack bounced up and down, ready to shoot out of the car like a fire cracker at any moment. “Hold on, hold on, we’re nearly there,” said his Mom. Across the the fields, everything shined in the fall sunlight with a soft orange and red glow. “This is the tallest hill in town.” Jack’s Mom said dreamily. “The tallest hill has the biggest pumpkins – more sunlight, you know. That’s why I first came here when I was a little girl. You will see pumpkins here like you’ve never seen before.” “I bet there are pumpkins bigger than this car!” yelled Jack. “I even heard there are magical pumpkins there! But I wasn’t supposed to tell grownups because my friend said they would never believe me.” “Who said I wouldn’t believe you? You know, they used to say a witch lived on that hill when I was a little girl. Now tell me, do you believe that?!” “NAAAAA”, said Jack, unsure whether or not he should be nervous. “Hold on, honey, the road gets a little rocky here.” Jack’s Mom held a hand across Jack’s chest as she weaved the car around some big potholes in the road. “People don’t come out here much other than for the magical pumpkins. Just sit tight while I focus – we’re almost there!” As the car went up and up – around five and then six turns – Little Jack became dizzy and the dizziness mixed with nervousness. “Psshhh, Witches!” He finally said out loud with a relief. “Good one, Mom!” The car finally rolled to a stop. Little Jack bound out into the knee high grass outside of the door and into the sound of chirping crickets and moaning toads. The wind tickled the tree tops and as they whished and whished against the tip top of the tallest hill. His mother was jogging to catch up. When she joined Little Jack on the trail, the two set off. First there was a rocky path made out of cobble stones and then, an orange wooden gate with a rusted copper handle. “This is the entrance to the Old Witches Farm,” his mom said, looking down the trail which disappeared behind a row of trees.”This was never a bad witch. Since the time I was a kid, these pumpkins just grew here all on their own.” “You mean, no farmer planted them?” “Nope.” “You mean, they grow all by themselves? Like magic?!” “Well with a little help from the sun and rain – yep! That’s why this place is so special, and why no-body-who-doesn’t-already-know-somebody-who- knows-where-it-is never gets to see the Old Witches Farm. You are a part of a special club now, Little Jack!” As he turned the corner behind the trees, he yelled back to his mother: “Where is this pumpkin pa—!” Before he could get the words out, Little Jack stumbled into it. To his left and to his right, long, dark green and brown vines tumbled across the ground. Here and there, there were tall pumpkins, short pumpkins, skinny pumpkins and fat pumpkins, warty pumpkins, smooth pumpkins and even some pumpkins bigger than a dog. “Look at that one, and that one!” he pointed, grabbing his mom’s hand. “With the warts on that one it would make a great Ogre or a witch! Or that long tall one, there, that would make a great ghost.” Jack could hardly keep up with his thoughts, he was just so excited! “Or we could do that jar shaped one, there, and make it into a Frankenstein, or even that wide, short one, could be perfect for a creepy smile!” Jack turned to see his mom looking down at the city. The sun was already setting over the bridge miles and miles away as she held a hand over her eyes to see as far as she could. “Sorry, that’s great, honey. Pick whichever one you want.” she said. “Just know that we only have twenty minutes or so before it gets dark, so let’s get a hop in our step, OK?!” “OK, Mom.” he said with more determination than before, looking back down at the pumpkins. And that’s when he heard it. A low buzzing sound, like the sound of a bumble bee trapped in a jar. Then again, more clearly this time, like the sound of someone humming. Buzz-buzz-mmmm-mmm-mmm! “I thought I heard a humming, just over here!” Little Jack called back to his mom. “It sounded like it came from this pumpkin.” Buzz-buzz-mmmm-mmm-mmm! Little Jack heard a sound from inside clearly – the pumpkin was buzzing! “It is this pumpkin, this is the one!” “Great, perfect! A fine choice, Jackie-boy!” Jack’s mom said. “No I mean, this is the one making noises!” “Oh Little Jackie Boy,” his mom said giggling, “It is only the crickets you are hearing. Pumpkins don’t make noise, you know that!” Jack yawned and scratched his head, suddenly feeling rather tired. It had been a long day and a wonderful trip, so maybe she was right. Maybe he was just tired. Either way, he was happy with the choice. As they left the gate, Little Jack noticed a sign he hadn’t before nailed to a tree nearby. It read: “No Todds Allowed.” Scratching his head at such a strange and off-putting sign, Little Jack was pulled along by his mother’s hand down the path and back to the car. “Really, Mom, this place is downright weird.” Little Jack said as they climbed into the car. “I know, honey.” she smiled. “Isn’t it just the best?!” Home at last, Little Jack set down some newspaper, grabbed a big stirring bowl, spoon, safety knives and at last, sat in the living room with his mom. Together they traced the top of the head with a permanent marker. “Now I’ll cut the top part open since we use the big knife for this.” his mom said, carving into the top. Buzz-buzz-mmmm-mmm-mmm! “Wait, Mom, that humming!” Jack’s mom jumped from the sound of his shouting. “Jack! You scared me half to death! What are you talking about, honey, what humming?” “The…the…” Little Jack struggled for the words, scratching his head. He knew this sounded crazy! “The humming, I heard it from the pumpkin again!” Jack’s mom cut again… Buzz-buzz-mmmm-mmm-mmm! “There, again!” Jack’s mom gave him a look. “That imagination of yours really is something. But then again, you are your father’s son!” She laughed and cleaned the guts off the pumpkin lid into a brown paper bag. While her back was turned, Jack starting scooping the guts with the ladle – and scooping in a hurry! “Nothing!” he said under his breath looking for anything – a bug, maybe – that could be making the buzzing sound. “There’s nothing…” In short time, Jack had cleaned out the pumpkin of all of its guts and drawn a grimacing, silly looking smile across its face. Using his safety knives specially made for carving pumpkins, he cut into the mouth. “Did you hear that?!” Jack yelled to his mom. “It just whistled at me!” “Jack-o, boy,” his mom said rubbing her eyes. “Sweetie, I’m tired and need to read this. Please just keep carving your pumpkin.” As Jack cut more and more, sure now that only he could hear it, the whistling sound slowly turned into low mumbling until at last, he’d cut every piece of the mouth out and the pumpkin exclaimed, “”Now come on, how’s about giving me a nose and eyes?!” “You’re talking…” Little Jack said with his jaw hung wide open. “And you’re a pumpkin.” he whispered leaning in. If his mom didn’t believe the buzzing, what would she think of this?! “Eureka, he can hear! And he’s a problem solver. We have a regular Einstein over here!” the pumpkin answered with a smirk. “Now I’ve seen everything!” Jack said. “Good, now that makes one of us – give me some eyes, kid!” Trying not to lose his mind, Jack finally gave in. “Ok, ok, so you are a talking pumpkin.” he whispered so his mom wouldn’t hear. “What should I call you?” “Well, Little Jack, I thought you would never ask. You can call me Jack-o. Jack and Jack-o, get it? Sort of rolls off the place where I should have a tongue… If I wasn’t, you know, a pumpkin.” “Ok, Jack-o. You’ve got it.” Little Jack said, carving Jack-o’s left eye into a circle. “How about this for an eye?” “There we go!” Jacko-o exclaimed. “I like to look someone in the eye when I talk to them!” “And how aboutttt…..” Jack said while stretching to draw the second eye. “A triangle for this second eye?” “Now we are talking. Give my face some character! Good kid.” “So, how many is it?” Jack-o said. “How many is what?” “How many days ‘til Halloween, of course. Don’t make me take back that Einstein thing I said earlier now.” “Oh, of course,” Jack whispered. “Well, let’s see, today is the 29th so that makes two days.” “Then it’s you and I Little Jack, until two moons from now. Then at last, at long last, I will have every pumpkin’s wish.” “To be glowing with a candle up on the porch?” Jack said a bit louder, catching a glimpse from his mom. “Nooooo, well, maybe that is your average pumpkin’s dream. Sure, I could just sit on the porch, glowing like some grimacing goon like all of my cousins and aunts and uncles before me. But come on now, look at me, I have one circle and one triangle eye… I’ve got a little more character than that!” “So… You don’t want to stay here, then you must want to… come trick-or-treating with me?” “Bingo! Einstein is back!” Jack-o laughed in a gravely tone. “You’ve got it, genius! I want to see the world, live a little, you know. You only have one Halloween to live, right!? Better live it right.” “Well,” Little Jack looked around, “carrying a pumpkin would be rough, but why not? How about I bring my wagon to carry you and that way we can both still have fun?” “Wow, you are on a roll there, Little Jack! Picture this, you, me, the open road, no porch to hold me back, no candle to make my breath smell like wax. Now I always knew I’d find the perfect companion! Now…” Jack-o lowered his voice. “There is one thing you’ve got to guarantee me though.” “What’s that; what’s wrong? You look scared.” “There is a legend of an evil Sorcerer from your hometown. A pumpkin smasher of epic proportions! To us, he is bringer of doom, destroyer of everything from seedlings to prized pumpkin. We call him—Destructor, Masher of Guts. But to you, he is better known as… Todd.” “Todd!?” Little Jack laughed. “I know that goofball. He lives down the street. Everyone knows him as a big bully but I’m good at staying out of his way. He’s like, 16 or something anyway, so he doesn’t bother with little kids like me. But wait, you know…” Jack stopped speaking in mid-sentence to think. “What, why the pause?! Oh the suspense is killing me!” Jack-o shouted, his face ripe with tension. “Last year someone did smash our pumpkins, and my dad always thought it was him. Todd. Sorry, Jack-o…” Little Jack looked sheepish. “W-w-well…” Jack-o stumbled on his words. “N-n-now that’s why I have you! Protect me this Halloween! Come on, you are the best friend I’ve ever had.” Little Jack smiled, “Now come on, I’m the only friend you’ve ever had! At least when you could talk!” The two laughed together as Little Jack’s mom turned the page, rolling her eyes at her son’s imagination with a smile. -Part III- Halloween night came before Little Jack and Jack-o knew it. They’d spent so much time talking that whenever Little Jack didn’t have school, they were laughing and telling stories until they could barely keep their eyes open. Little Jack had even changed his costume over to a creepy scarecrow so he could pull Jack-o around in the wagon with some corn stocks and other things without drawing too much attention. They were on vigilant lookout for Todd, after all, so the mission was to be as ninja like as possible. “So I can’t believe I didn’t realize this earlier,” said Little Jack as he pulled Jack-o down the street in a red wagon, “But I noticed a sign up on the hill the day we met. No Todd’s Allowed! it said. You know that sounds all a bit crazy to anyone who hasn’t talked to you before, right?” “Come on now, Little Jack. If you had a serial pumpkin killer on the loose in your neighborhood, wouldn’t you take the proper precautions? Our White Witch did that for us; she’s a good person.” Little Jack shook his head in disbelief as he rang a door bell. “Trick-or-treat!” he shouted when they opened the door, lifting Jack-o’s head up to the people in the door. The people at the door gave little Jack a strange look and dropped a handful of candy into Jack-o’s head. Jack-o made chewing sounds with his gummy mouth. “Thanks for sharing your candy with me, buddy! This is delicious.” Little Jack couldn’t help wondering if at some point he would have to admit to himself that pumpkins can’t actually eat candy. The pumpkin was a figment of his imagination surely … he must have been wondering aloud, because Jack-o turned a darker shade of orange and said: “Well, well, this is just awkward. Look at that, my own friend telling me I don’t exist. I’m blushing. I guess I should’ve seen this coming. I’ve told you Jack, the patch is magical. We’ve done our job. Now yours is to believe.” “I want to, I really do. Look, Jack-o, it’s…” before Jack could finish, Todd, the Destructor, the Masher of Guts, came walking around the corner dragging a stick across a white picket fence. “Oh no!” T-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T, the drumming of the stick on the wooden fence sent chills up the spine of Jack and the gooey place that would’ve been a spine for Jack-O. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t baby scare crow and his little wagon! Out here all alone, well at least you have some guts. Unlike that dumb pumpkin of yours!” “Stay back! I’m warning you.” Little Jack said with a quiver in his voice. “My house is right over there.” “Get the White Witch, get her!” Jack-o mumbled to Little Jack. “Or else what? What will you do if I, say, grab that pumpkin of yours and crush it on the ground!” Todd said with anger in his voice. “Yelp! Get the White Witch, get her!” Jack-o shouted at Jack this time. “I’ll… I’ll tell on you… I don’t fight. I don’t… sink to that level like you.” “Oh you mean, like this!” Todd grabbed Jack-o from the wagon and raised him above his head, getting ready to throw him on the ground. “Get the White Witch, get her! Please don’t let him do this!” Jack-o screamed to Jack. “How!?! Jack-o, how do I get the White Witch?!” Little Jack finally yelled at the pumpkin. Jack looked at Todd, who had lowered the pumpkin from above his head, perplexed by the boy talking to the pumpkin. Suddenly Jack realized he finally understood. “See that hill up there.” he said to Todd. “That big hill, the biggest one? Ever been up there before?” Jack said, trying to stall. “Um, why, yeah I see the hill, but no?! I’ve never been there. Why?” Todd had a confused look on his face. “Well the White Witch has been there, that’s where she lives. And she told me to tell you something.” At that moment, a white beam of light cut across the yard and onto Todd, Jack and Jack-o where they stood. “Todd, are you getting into trouble again?” A familiar voice said from behind the light. It was Jack’s mom carrying a flashlight. “Now you want to put that pumpkin down?” “Sure, umm, sure, sorry Mrs White. I’m really sorry.” “Mom?” Jack said, looking at his mom and her flashlight. “Wait…” he was thinking until his face turned blue. “Have you been keeping that pumpkin patch alive on the hill all this time?” “Well, I didn’t want to spoil any of the magic for you. But, sometimes, sure I’ll go up there and toss some seed around. I like it up there.” Little Jack nodded his head in agreement. Before Jack could explain, Todd began to walk away dragging his feet. Bullies never do so well around grownups. “And you, young man, you stay out of trouble or the White Witch will get you.” Jack’s mom said, wagging her finger at Todd. Todd’s lip quivered and he smiled just slightly before turning. That was the first time Jack had ever seen Todd smile. “Hey, kid, Jack. Hey, I’m sorry man. Your mom is a pretty cool lady.” “Don’t worry about it, Todd. She is a pretty great lady.” “So Mom,” Jack said, pulling the squeaky wagon along the sidewalk next to his dear mother, “Is there a White Witch out there, like really?” “Well, I know this might be hard for such a big kid to understand, but try to use your imagination.” she winked. Jack turned to smile back at Jack-o, thinking he would get a kick out of the joke. “Jack-o,” he nodded back, “Hey Jack-o. You’re safe! See it all worked out.” Jack-o’s face was motionless, no more Jack-o charm. No more wise cracks. No more funny faces or deep laughs. He looked like an ordinary, everyday jack-o-lantern. Jack looked at his mom and felt a tear form in the corner of his eye. “Don’t worry, honey.” his mom said assuring him. “Like Halloween, Jack-o will always come again next year. I promise.” \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn76.txt b/text/sn76.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2bd6b893d0a048a66c1e886d292996ccff6ef1eb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn76.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download Tick Tock Turkey and the Disappearing Sandwich By Michael Brett Tick Tock Turkey and his friend Future Dog live on Egg Island, and float with their home through time and space. Tick Tock Turkey concentrates his mind on the really important things in life – such as making the best sandwich ever – and when things don’t quite work out as he plans, all he has to do is turn back the hands of his very special watch. This tale of a scruffy time-travelling turkey has been specially written for Storynory. Read by Natasha. Duration 23 Minutes This is a story about a very odd bird called Tick Tock Turkey, his friend Future Dog, and a sandwich that disappeared, mysteriously, into thin air. Tick Tock Turkey is a brown feathery bird, a bit scruffy, and a bit clumsy. He has a special watch with a red button that he wears on one of his wings. Future Dog – as you can probably guess – is a dog, and she comes from the future. She has black fur, blue and gold hair on her head, and wears dark sunglasses all the time. Even at night. Tick Tock Turkey and Future Dog have an interesting talent. They can travel in time. They can go forward into the future, when things haven’t happened yet, or backward into the past, when things have already happened. Time travel is quite complicated, so it’s a good idea to explain one or two things about it. You’re probably thinking: ‘It isn’t possible to travel in time. It can’t be done!’ However hard you try, no matter what you do, it’s always right now. It’s never yesterday, and it’s never tomorrow. It is always today. You might say to yourself: ‘I can’t wait until tomorrow! It’s going to be so much more exciting than today!’ and then jump into bed and shut your eyes tight and make yourself go to sleep so that tomorrow comes quickly. But what happens when you wake up? It’s not tomorrow at all. It’s just a different today. It’s always today, no matter what you do. Just imagine that you could say to yourself: ‘I’m so bored with Monday. And Tuesday doesn’t look very exciting. Wednesday and Thursday look pretty dull. Now, I was planning to go out for ice cream on Friday, which will be much more fun. So, Im going to push a button and make it Friday, right now. I’ll just zoom into the future and miss out all those boring days in between…’ So you push a button, and zap! It’s Friday! And there’s so much ice cream you can’t stop yourself even though you know you’re probably going to have a sore tummy and a headache. Hang on. That doesn’t happen, does it? No one can push a button and zoom into the future. But what if you could say to yourself: ‘I really enjoyed going to the beach last weekend. The sun was so hot and I got to lounge around for hours and swim in the sea and look for crabs in the rock pools and play football on the sand. But now it’s raining and miserable and I’m stuck indoors. So, I’m going to push a button and make it last weekend, right now. I’ll just zoom into the past and get away from this boring rainy day…’ Tick Tock Turkey and Future Dog live in a strange place called Egg Island. Egg Island isn’t the biggest island in the world, but it’s not small either. It has a mountain in the middle, surrounded by a deep, dark jungle, and a bright sandy beach all the way around its shores. Across the island there are hundreds of stone turkeys, tall statues with enormous stone eggs balanced on their heads, each carved from the mountain rock by clever turkeys long ago. Egg Island used to be part of the land of Turkeytopia, a whole country of birds. But now Egg Island drifts across the seas of the world, like an enormous boat with no sail. Egg Island also does something mysterious. It doesn’t only drift across the seas, it also floats through time. It drifts forward into the future, and backward into the past, as the tide takes it. When Egg Island comes ashore, which it does every now and then, for a little while, there is no telling where, or when, it could be! On one very misty morning on Egg Island, with the shadows of the big turkey statues growing ever shorter as the sun rose ever higher, with the strange animals in the jungle making ever stranger noises as it grew ever hotter, Tick Tock Turkey set about making the best sandwich ever. Tick Tock Turkey didn’t just like sandwiches. Everybody likes sandwiches. Tick Tock Turkey thought that sandwiches were the best kind of food that had ever been invented. And this particular sandwich was going to be the single best sandwich that had ever been made. Ever. Tick Tock Turkey took the business of making sandwiches very seriously, and everything had to be done just right. First of all, he cleared some space on a flat tree stump at the edge of the jungle by the beach. This would be his sandwich-making table. He scampered into the jungle and gathered up some thick crusty bread slices from the bread bushes beside one of the jungle lakes. On Egg Island, all kinds of food grow just like this. When it comes to the best sandwich ever made, only the flattest, crustiest, chunkiest pieces of bread will do. Tick Tock Turkey picked two of the crustiest and chunkiest. He took an empty coconut shell and dipped it into the lake – which was made of warm butter – filled it up to the brim, and brought the bread and butter back to the table. Next, Tick Tock Turkey fetched some orange lettuce, some blue tomatoes and a big yellow onion. Things are sometimes unusual colours on Egg Island! When he had taken those things and put them on the table, he went back to the jungle and fetched a big wedge of purple cheese from the cheese tree, and some peppery mustard from the mustard swamp. Mustard was Tick Tock Turkey’s favourite. He was getting extremely hungry now – his mouth was starting to water, and he couldn’t wait to put all the ingredients together. But he didn’t have everything he needed. Two more essential ingredients would give the sandwich that special something. Can you guess what they were? That’s right – pink gravy, and hot chocolate sauce. No sandwich is complete without pink gravy and hot chocolate sauce. Tick Tock Turkey rummaged through the jungle vines until he found a nice, healthy gravy plant. He picked a pair of plump, pink gravy fruit. He climbed up a rocky slope to the huge, old chocolate tree, pecked into the trunk with his beak, and out oozed some thick, sugary chocolate. He filled up another coconut shell, carrying it to the beach on the end of his wing like a bucket, swishing little drops of hot brown chocolate behind him. Finally, with all of the ingredients in front of him, Tick Tock Turkey was at last ready to begin making the best sandwich ever! ‘You’d better watch this, Future Dog,’ he called out across the beach, ‘this is going to be an absolutely incredible sandwich. Big and tasty. The best!’ All this time, Future Dog had been sitting on the beach nearby, lounging in the shade of a tall turkey statue, reading her book, and sipping from a cup of cool, delicious papaya fruit juice. Future Dog knew that Tick Tock Turkey was always up to some silly plan or another, trying to make sailboats from banana skins or trying to build beach houses with sand. And even though Tick Tock Turkey had been scampering backwards and forwards all morning, dashing into the jungle one minute, and dashing back onto the beach the next minute, gobbling and squawking excitedly with his wings laden with weird food, Future Dog hadn’t been paying much attention. She’d seen it all before. When the sandwich was done, with all the ingredients – including the pink gravy and chocolate sauce – packed inside the chunky slices of bread, Tick Tock Turkey decided that his sandwich looked absolutely delicious. ‘Have a look!’ he squawked. ‘Come on, Future Dog. Come here and have a look at my fantastic sandwich!’ Future Dog wasn’t in the mood. ‘Do I have to?’ she asked. ‘Only that smell of onions and mustard and gravy and chocolate all mixed together is wafting around and making me feel a bit queasy.’ Tick Tock Turkey scampered over to Future Dog and pulled the book from her paws. ‘Come on!’ he said. ‘Even if it’s not your favourite, I’m telling you it’s an amazing job – in fact, it’s a work of art, and you’d better look quick before I gobble it up!’ Future Dog shrugged: ‘Oh well, I suppose I should have a look,’ she said. ‘After all, you have been working very hard.’ Then, as they were about to look at Tick Tock Turkey’s sandwich, there was a sudden loud WHOOSH, quickly followed by a second loud WHOOSH. They jumped. In fact, the second WHOOSH wasn’t so much a WHOOSH as a WHOOSH backwards. A sort of SHOOWH. ‘What the egg was that?’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m not sure,’ said Future Dog. ‘Although it did sound a bit familiar…’ ‘Forget it,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, ‘I’m too hungry to care. It’s just some stupid island wind. Future Dog, here it is… the best sandwich ever!’ ‘Whaat?’ gobbled Tick Tock Turkey. ‘It was there a second ago! I only turned my back for an instant. Whaat?’ ‘And you didn’t see anyone else?’ asked Future Dog. ‘No one. Whaat?’ ‘And you’re sure it was there?’ ‘Of course it was there! It was big and huge and delicious and it smelled wonderful!’ Future Dog nodded. ‘Well, I don’t agree that it smelled wonderful, but it certainly stunk enough to have been there alright.’ Tick Tock Turkey fumed and squawked and ran around in another tiny circle. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks, and stuck one wing up in the air. ‘There’s nothing for it,’ he said. ‘I’m going to use the Time Watch!’ ‘The Time Watch?’ said Future Dog, ‘are you sure that’s really necessary? The sandwich can’t be far away. Even if someone has pinched it, they can’t have got far into the jungle and I’m sure we can catch them up.’ Future Dog scratched her chin. ‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I suppose that makes sense. You could turn the watch back a few minutes, pop through a time hole, and stop the thief in his tracks. Well, Tick Tock Turkey, for a very silly bird, that sounds like a clever plan.’ ‘You bet,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. He stood by the empty table and twisted the winder on the watch so that the big hand turned backwards. Two minutes – to when the sandwich was still there. He pushed the red button on the side of the watch… And WHOOSH! A time hole opened in front of him, like a hazy cloud of light and sparks, floating in the air. ‘I can see my sandwich!’ he squawked, peering through the hole. ‘And it looks delicious! And I can see myself talking to you, Future Dog, and I’m asking you to come and have a look at it! That means the thief will grab the sandwich any second now!’ ‘And can you see the thief?’ asked Future Dog. Tick Tock Turkey looked triumphant. ‘I’ve got my sandwich back! Yes! I’ve foiled the thief!’ ‘Hang on,’ said Future Dog. ‘I thought those whooshing and shoowhing sounds we heard earlier were a bit familiar. It was a time hole opening and closing.’ ‘Nonsense,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I grabbed the sandwich before the thief got there, so we’ll never know.’ ‘You stole it from yourself!’ ‘Whaat?’ ‘The time traveller who stole your sandwich was you, from the future, coming back to get it!’ Tick Tock Turkey shook his head again, this time so hard that feathers flew off in all directions. ‘I’m so confused!’ he squawked. ‘It’s the only explanation,’ said Future Dog. ‘You stole your own sandwich from yourself. I’ve been time travelling for much longer than you, Tick Tock Turkey, and it’s the only possible explanation.’ Tick Tock Turkey squawked crossly. ‘I can’t believe that someone would come from the future and steal my sandwich. The cheek!’ He looked down at the big sandwich in front of him. ‘Oh,’ he said, frowning, ‘but I’ve still got the sandwich. Does that mean I’m the thief? Whaat? Ow. My head hurts from all this thinking.’ ‘Cheer up,’ said Future Dog. ‘You can’t really steal from yourself, can you?’ ‘I suppose not,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘But I think I just did!’ ‘Tuck in to your sandwich,’ said Future Dog. ‘After all, you’ve travelled in time to get it, and isn’t it supposed to be the best sandwich ever?’ \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn77.txt b/text/sn77.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..0f2be7eb85d43268d66c042f96fdfa0c720ec5b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn77.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the Audio We return to Egg Island to answer the age-old question: which came first, the turkey or the egg? Future Dog and Jen Penguin solve the case of the mysterious egg, while Tick Tock Turkey goes in search of sea worms for his Lunchfast. On a sunny but rather cool morning on Egg Island, Tick Tock Turkey was thinking about food, as usual. He flapped up and down the beach, squawking and muttering and looking crossly at the sundial, where the long thin shadow of a stone egg pointed out the time. Not far away, in the pleasant shade of a gently curving palm-tree, Future Dog quietly got on with her morning yoga, carefully balancing on her hind legs and tail, breathing deeply. ‘I can’t believe it’s only an hour since breakfast,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m so hungry, I know that can’t be the real time. My tummy says it’s definitely lunchtime, so that stupid sundial must be broken.’ Future Dog, who was very familiar with Tick Tock Turkey’s impatience, laughed. ‘Are you laughing at me?’ squawked Tick Tock Turkey. ‘The cheek. I’m about to starve to death because of a broken sundial and you think it’s funny.’ ‘I’m not laughing because you’re hungry…’ Future Dog peered over her sunglasses. ‘Starving is never a laughing matter. Not when it’s real, anyway. I laughed because the sundial can’t be broken.’ Future Dog eased into her next yoga position. She balanced on her head with her legs stretched out wide, her tail wagging elegantly from side to side. ‘Tick Tock Turkey,’ she said, calmly, ‘do you know how a sundial works?’ Tick Tock Turkey gobbled, a little offended. ‘Do I know how a sundial works? Do I? Well everyone knows how a sundial works don’t they? The big dark hand points to the time. It goes round, and you know what time it is. And that is how a sundial works.’ Future Dog carefully lowered herself from her headstand, stood up, let out a deep breath and said, ‘Tick Tock Turkey – the sun is bright and makes the shadow, the sun moves through the sky as the world turns around, and the shadow pteoints to different places as the day goes on. It doesn’t need to be wound up, it doesn’t need a battery, and it works as long as the sun keeps on rising and setting and moving across the sky. And that’s it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have yoga to do!’ With that, Future Dog rolled up her yoga mat and walked away up the beach. ‘Alright, keep your fur on,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I know about the sun. Everybody knows about the sun. And if this sundial is so brilliant then how come it stops working in cloudy weather? It’s a cheap one if you ask me. If Egg Island ever floats past a clock shop, we should get a new one.’ Future Dog paused for a moment, as if she was about to say something, but then carried on walking. She found a shady spot beneath a big turkey statue, unrolled her yoga mat in the sand, and carried on with her exercises. ‘Alright,’ said Tick Tock Turkey to himself, ‘so it’s not lunchtime yet. And it’s only an hour after breakfast, so it’s too early for brunch. No bother – I’ll have lunchfast. It’s never too early for lunchfast.’ Tick Tock Turkey scratched his tummy feathers with his wing and licked his beak with his tongue. ‘What do I fancy to eat? Hmm. Worms. Well, I had worms for breakfast. So that wouldn’t do. It’s not on to have the same meal twice. But I love worms so much. Hang on – those were earthworms that I ate earlier. There’s nothing to stop me having a different kind of worms for lunchfast. How about seaworms? Yes. I haven’t had seaworms for ages. That’ll do nicely!’ Tick Tock Turkey scrambled up the beach to his small nest by the edge of the jungle, pulled on his swimming trunks, and ran back down to the shore, gobbling and squawking excitedly at the thought of all those delicious, salty seaworms. He was just about to dive into the frothy waves when he remembered something. ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘I mustn’t going swimming with the time watch on.’ He unbuckled the strap of his time-travelling watch and placed it carefully on a stone in the sand. ‘Future Dog says it’s not waterproof. She’d go mad if it got broken. Broken like that stupid sundial!’ Tick Tock Turkey chuckled, but not too loud – he didn’t want to spoil grumpy Future Dog’s yoga. ‘I should be careful anyway,’ he said, ‘after all, it is the only time watch in the world.’ Then Tick Tock Turkey took a deep breath and dived in. He gave an enormous squawk, and jumped straight back out onto the beach. He stood there, his eyes popping out of his head, shivering, clicking his beak, with his feathers dripping cold seawater onto the hot sand. ‘W-what t-the egg?’ he gobbled. ‘It’s f-f-f-f-freezing!’ Future Dog heard Tick Tock Turkey’s cries right across the beach, and she casually strolled down to see what he was up to. ‘F-f-f-Future D-Dog,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, his beak looking a little bluer than usual, ‘t-the w-water’s so c-cold. I’ve n-never kn-nown it s-so c-c-cold!’ ‘Hmm,’ said Future Dog. ‘I think Egg Island might be drifting southwards. Now we were already quite far south, if I remember correctly, so that would bring us into much colder water. That must be it.’ Future Dog looked out to sea and squinted through her sunglasses. ‘It also explains all those penguins swimming out there.’ She pointed to a few cheerful penguins splashing and diving not far from the beach. One of them was sitting on a little block of ice that floated in the water. ‘Penguins?’ said Tick Tock Turkey with a frown, ‘I didn’t spot them before.’ One of the penguins bobbed to the surface and waved. ‘Hey there!’ she called. ‘Welcome to the south! You two should come and try some of these seaworms, they’re delicious!’ Tick Tock Turkey was furious. ‘That is so not fair,’ he huffed. ‘Stupid penguins with their stupid warm coats that let them swim in freezing water. I hope the seaworms make them sick.’ ‘That’s not nice,’ said Future Dog. ‘You know, Tick Tock Turkey, I went for a swim this morning before I started my yoga, and the water was lovely and warm then. We must have been much closer to the equator. It isn’t the penguins’ fault you missed out. And you know what they say – the early bird catches the seaworm!’ She smiled. ‘Very funny,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘But I’m not having it! I’m not letting them have all the food. I’m not going to swim in cold water either. What to do?’ He scratched his head. ‘There’s nothing for it,’ he raised one wing high in the air, ‘I’m going to use the time watch!’ ‘Here we go again,’ said Future Dog. ‘That’s right!’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m going to go back in time, to when the water was still warm, and I’m going to gobble up all the salty seaworms I can find before those pesky penguins turn up.’ Future Dog sighed. ‘Very well. I suppose a turkey’s got to do what a turkey’s got to do. Just be careful. I’m going to play tennis with Blobert, so I won’t be around to help if you get into trouble.’ Tick Tock Turkey squawked. ‘Trouble? It’ll be easypeasy. And you’re playing tennis with Blobert? He’s just a blob. He can’t play tennis.’ ‘Don’t hold your breath,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, fastening the watch on his wing, ‘I plan to have so much lunchfast I won’t be needing lunch. Not tea either, or dinner, or pudding or supper, or even bedtime bickies. I’m going to stuff myself enough for the whole day.’ As Future Dog wandered off to find Blobert for their tennis lesson, she heard behind her a very loud WHOOSH. There went Tick Tock Turkey, zooming into the past in search of a feast. And Future Dog had seen it all before. Later that day, after the tennis lesson, after lunch, when Blobert had blobbed off somewhere else to do whatever it is that blobs do, Tick Tock Turkey was nowhere to be seen, or heard. Future Dog was worried. It seemed that Tick Tock Turkey had gone into the past, and not come back. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have left him on his own.’ She felt sorry that she’d laughed at him. But then he was a very silly bird. And now he could be stuck in the past, perhaps forever! Future Dog hurried down to the seashore where she had last seen Tick Tock Turkey. There was no sign of him. She shuddered. Poor Tick Tock Turkey could be anywhere, and anytime! If he was too clumsy with the time watch, he could have gone back much too far. He could be in a prehistoric world being frightened by dinosaurs! Or, in his excitement, he could have wound the watch the wrong way altogether and ended up far in the future! Future Dog knew all about the future, but poor Tick Tock Turkey wouldn’t have a clue! The penguins were still splashing around in the cold sea, gobbling their seaworms, and performing trick dives off their miniature iceberg. ‘Help!’ called Future Dog. ‘Did any of you see my friend earlier – the turkey?’ One of the penguins swam in to the beach and waddled up the sand. ‘Hello, I’m Jen,’ she said. ‘The turkey did you say? You mean that scruffy-looking bird? Oh sure, he fiddled around with a watch and then he vanished, whoosh, into thin air. Just like that. We all thought it was the weirdest thing.’ ‘And he didn’t come back?’ asked Future Dog. ‘Nuh uh,’ said Jen Penguin, flapping her flippery wings. ‘He never did.’ ‘Oh no,’ said Future Dog. ‘But we found this,’ said Jen. She stood aside to show a large white egg nestled in the sand. ‘It’s an egg. We’ve been playing wingball with it in the water. It’s not a penguin egg. It’s the wrong shape. I think it’s an octopus egg. Len Penguin over there thinks it’s a snake egg, and Sven Penguin thinks it’s a dog egg. What do you think?’ Future Dog looked at the egg. It was quite fresh. ‘It’s certainly not a dog egg, thank you very much. We don’t lay eggs. But where could it have come from?’ ‘That is strange,’ said Future Dog. ‘Uh huh,’ said Jen. ‘Just like the turkey was there, and then he wasn’t there. Weird.’ ‘Hmm,’ said Future Dog, thinking very hard. ‘It’s just like that old question,’ said Jen. ‘You know – what came first, the bird or the egg?’ ‘Yes,’ said Future Dog, ‘it’s just like that. And in this case, the bird definitely came before the egg.’ ‘Well,’ said Jen, ‘I don’t suppose you’d know about this, being a dog, but for us penguins, eggs and birds and eggs and birds tend to come one after another after another.’ ‘I suppose that makes sense,’ said Future Dog, ‘but I can’t worry about that egg now. I need to find a way to get Tick Tock Turkey back!’ ‘I couldn’t tell you how it all started, continued Jen, quite ignoring Future Dog’s concern. ‘I mean the very first bird or the very first egg. But from what my mum says, I know I began as an egg. You know, when I was little.’ ’Eggs!’ said Future Dog, ‘That’s it!’ She slapped her forehead with her paw. ‘I think I know what happened!’ Jen Penguin flapped her flippers. ‘Go on, tell!’ ‘Turkeys start as eggs - just like penguins,’ said Future Dog. ‘I thought my friend Tick Tock Turkey had gone back in time to this morning to eat seaworms, and never came back. And then this egg had appeared from nowhere. My conclusion is that Tick Tock Turkey never left!’ ‘Nonsense,’ said the penguin. ‘You’re talking rubbish. This is why we penguins stay on the ice. Too much hot sun has driven you bonkers and you’ve gone dotty.’ ‘Just bear with me,’ said Future Dog, ‘this sort of thing happens all the time round here. As I was saying, Tick Tock Turkey never left. He must have turned himself back into an egg.’ She pointed at the mysterious egg. ‘That is Tick Tock Turkey - before he was a chick. He hasn’t even hatched!’ Jen Penguin squinted at the egg, unconvinced. ‘Sounds daft to me,’ she said. ‘But just say it is true, then your turkey is going to have to grow up into a full grown bird all over again. What a drag!’ ‘Tick Tock Turkey is trouble enough,’ said Future Dog. I can’t even imagine what bother a little Chick Tock Turkey could cause! Oh no. Poor Tick Tock Turkey is back in his egg and it’s all my fault. I never should have given him that watch in the first place!’ While they had been talking, the sun had been shining brightly on the egg in the sand. It had been getting warmer and warmer. Then there was a quiet tap. Then again. Tap tap. And again. Tap tap tap. The tap tapping, so gentle at first, became louder and louder. Future Dog and Jen Penguin leaned in closely. They saw a small crack appearing in the shell. The crack got longer, and split into two cracks, and then three, until finally the shell chipped open and a tiny yellow beak poked through the hole. The beak tapped at the edges of the hole and at last the shell cracked open. A very fluffy little turkey chick popped out onto the sand, chirping with a tiny voice. ‘It’s a boy!’ laughed Jen. Future Dog looked down at Chick Tock Turkey and shook her head. ‘Dear me,’ she said. Chick Tock Turkey waddled happily along the sand and pecked at Future Dog’s leg. ‘I think he likes you!’ said Jen. ‘But he’s just a baby,’ said Future Dog. ‘What a disaster.’ ‘What’s that?’ Jen pointed her flipper to something lying in the broken eggshell. Future Dog could just make out a red strap, and the dial of a watch. She barked in relief, ‘Thank goodness! It’s the time watch. We’ll have this fixed in no time!’ Future Dog took the time watch, fiddled with the button, and quickly strapped it onto Chick Tock Turkey’s little wing. ‘He must have put it on the wrong wing after his swim. That makes it work the other way – instead of travelling back in time, he made himself go backwards. Now keep clear – this is going to be noisy!’ Suddenly a cloud of sparks and light fizzed around the chick. There was a gust of wings and feathers and then a very loud SHOOWH! And there stood Tick Tock Turkey, utterly befuddled. ‘What?!’ he squawked. ‘What happened? Where did I go? I dreamed I was inside a little warm room. Then it started bouncing around. Then there was a little crack of light. Then I was in an enormous sunny desert. And you, Future Dog, you were twenty feet tall. And there was a giant penguin! And other giant penguins swimming! And an enormous iceberg fifty feet high! What time is it? Where’s my lunchfast? My head! I’m so confused…’ ‘I’ll explain it later,’ said Future Dog. I think you’re going to need a few more lessons on how to use the time watch.’ ‘I was in such a hurry to get my seaworms,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, ‘I think I might have put it on the wrong wing.’ ‘Well, it’s good to have you back,’ said Future Dog. ‘Even though you never left!’ said Jen Penguin. ‘Who are you?’ squawked Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m Jen Penguin. Now, if you’re such a big fan of seaworms that you’d turn yourself into an egg and back, then Len, Sven and I will catch you all the lunchfast you can eat! And you won’t have to go into the cold water.’ ‘That’ll do nicely,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, and he sat back in the sand. ‘Serve it up!’ Read by Natasha Gostwick Duration 25 minutes. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn78.txt b/text/sn78.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..b86403daa63d433811438d943bf4490787c4b5a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn78.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Now, why do all these odd things happen to Tick Tock Turkey? The answer is simple: Tick Tock Turkey, and his friend Future Dog, can travel in time, and it usually results in a lot of confusion. Read by Natasha. Duration 22.55 Wherever you go in the world, and whether you are in the future or the past – not to mention the present – the number one food on everyone’s list is chocolate. White, dark, milky, with nuts, with caramel, any way you like it, chocolate is the best. And Egg Island is fortunate enough to have the world’s only Chocolate Tree. It’s made out of solid chocolate, with hot chocolate sauce in its centre, and it grows chocolate fruit all year round, as long as it has plenty of sun and shade and water. Tick Tock Turkey had spent the best part of the day in the jungle, steadily gobbling his way through all of the chocolatey bits and pieces beneath the Chocolate Tree. He’d started with the juicy chocolate berries, which were so big and swollen with sugary goodness that they had fallen like chestnuts to the ground. Once they were all gone, he’d set about eating all of the chocolate leaves that had dried and curled in the sun before wafting gently on the breeze to fall in the shade of the tree. When they were finished, he munched the chocolate twigs that lay strewn about the jungle floor. The chocolate twigs didn’t taste anywhere near as nice as the berries, or the leaves. The twigs were dry and bitter. But they were still chocolate. Tick Tock Turkey decided they shouldn’t be wasted. Besides, he wasn’t full yet. After a long time, and a considerable amount of gobbling, Tick Tock Turkey sat heavily at the bottom of the tree. His belly was packed with chocolate, and his beak and wings were covered in brown chocolate sauce. ‘Oh dear,’ he said, rubbing his tummy. ‘I feel queasy now. I must be full up. Future Dog says it’s important to eat enough, but never too much. I should stop for a rest, to let the food go down.’ He lay back in the sun, and licked some chocolate from his beak. ‘Okay – that’s enough rest. On with the chocolate!’ Tick Tock Turkey jumped to his feet and looked eagerly around him. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘It can’t all be gone!’ He strutted around the Chocolate Tree looking hard at the ground for more chocolate bits. ‘There must be something. A little bit of chocolate berry? A twig? A leaf? Maybe a piece of bark that’s fallen off?’ But there was nothing more to eat. Tick Tock Turkey sighed and shrugged. Then his eyes wandered up to the Chocolate Tree. There had been plenty of rain and sun in the past few days, and the tree had a decent crop of chocolate berries and even some big, stripy, chocolate bananamatoes dangling from its branches. Tick Tock Turkey’s eyes grew large and his tongue wagged. ‘They look so juicy and sweet,’ he said. ‘But Future Dog told me off for picking things straight from the tree. She said if I keep on taking chocolate sauce from the trunk for my sandwiches, and eating all the fruit without letting some fall to the ground, that eventually the Chocolate Tree won’t grow anymore, and there’ll be no more chocolate on Egg Island Ever. And that wouldn’t do.’ He looked sadly at the tree. ‘But I’m so hungry. In fact, if I don’t eat something soon, I might faint or get sick. And no one would want that. I’m sorry Mister Chocolate Tree – but this is a medical emergency and I need some bananamatoes right now! Doctor’s orders!’ With a loud flap of his wings and a flurry of feathers, Tick Tock Turkey hopped into the branches and started gobbling the fruit. He stuffed a few berries into his beak and then got to work on a particularly large bananamato. ‘TICK TOCK TURKEY!’ came an angry voice from below. ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’ Tick Tock Turkey froze. It was Future Dog, and she looked absolutely furious. Tick Tock Turkey hopped down from the tree and hung his head. ‘I was just, um, checking how the fruit was getting on. They’re growing very well.’ ‘Were you now?’ said Future Dog. ‘And how do you explain all the chocolate on your beak? And that half eaten bananamato you’re hiding behind your back?’ ‘Oh, Future Dog,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I was just so hungry, I felt ill, and I had to have a tiny nibble. It won’t do any harm.’ Future Dog folded her paws crossly. ‘Tick Tock Turkey, you probably felt ill because you’ve eaten too much! What did I tell you about the Chocolate Tree? It’s very precious and you have to be extremely careful with it.’ ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I won’t do it again. But it’s just soo tasty…’ ‘And that’s why it’s so special,’ said Future Dog. ‘Now let’s go down to the beach, and maybe you can get some exercise and work off some of that fatty chocolate.’ ‘Exercise?’ said Tick Tock Turkey, ‘bor-ing. What’s that you’ve got in your hand?’ Future Dog held up a small musical instrument with strings. ‘This is a banjo. I’m teaching Blobert how to play.’ ‘Blobert!’ sniffed Tick Tock Turkey, ‘that stupid blob.’ ‘Don’t be rude about people who aren’t here,’ said Future Dog. ‘Blobert is actually a very good player.’ ‘Fair enough,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘But I can’t imagine how he plucks the strings with those blobby fingers.’ ‘That’s enough,’ said Future Dog. ‘I’m going to play volleyball. If you aren’t coming, then at least try to stay out of trouble. And no more chocolate today!’ Future Dog strolled off through the jungle towards the beach. Tick Tock Turkey watched her go. And then Tick Tock Turkey did something very naughty. ‘If I can’t eat any more chocolate today,’ he said, ‘then I can eat some more yesterday. There’s nothing for it – I’m going to use the time watch!’ He fiddled with the button on his watch. There was a fizz and sizzle of sparkling lights around him, a loud WHOOSH!, and everything was still again. Tick Tock Turkey looked around. The jungle appeared more or less as it should. The trees were the same, although perhaps a little smaller. He could see Egg Mountain very clearly in the middle of the island – tall and grey against the cloudy sky. The view of the mountain wasn’t usually so clear. He could also see a big turkey statue nearby. This statue was usually covered in moss and vines, but now it looked clean and bright and new. Its edges were sharp. He could hear strange drums beating somewhere deep in the jungle. ‘Very odd,’ he said, with a shiver. ‘Anyway, let’s have some of those delicious bananamatoes!’ But the Chocolate Tree wasn’t there. There was a big gap in the jungle where the tree should be. ‘What?’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘Where’s it gone? It’s such a huge tree! And it was there just now. I mean, it was there tomorrow, where – I mean when – I just was. What?’ The tree was nowhere to be seen. Tick Tock Turkey waddled up to the exact spot where the trunk of the Chocolate Tree used to sprout from the earth. He peered down, squinting, and poking at the ground with his feet. ‘Where could it be?’ he said. Tick Tock Turkey noticed something peeping through the soil. It was a tiny brown shoot. He sniffed it. Definitely chocolatey! He pulled at the shoot with his beak and, gradually, out came a long, thick, sugary chocolate root. By the time it was all of the way out of the ground it was as tall as Tick Tock Turkey himself. ‘Eureka!’ cried Tick Tock Turkey. He took a bite. It was quite simply the sweetest, chocolatiest, most delicious thing he had ever eaten. ‘I’m in chocolate heaven!’ he said, and, with a few enormous gobbles, he finished the root. He let out an enormous burp. ‘That was spectacular,’ he said, patting his swollen tummy. ‘I’d better get back before Future Dog misses me.’ He fiddled with the time watch again. ‘I’ll try to go back to just after I left, then no one will suspect a thing!’ He pushed the button, and, with a loud SHOOWH!, he was back in the jungle clearing of today. ‘What have you been doing?’ asked Future Dog, who was standing there waiting, tapping her paw on the ground. ‘Oh, hello,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, taken aback, ‘I was just, um, trying out the time watch. I think I’ve got the hang of it now, thank you.’ ‘Well,’ said Future Dog, ‘I came back to check on you, and I was very surprised to see what’s happened to the Chocolate Tree.’ ‘I didn’t do anything!’ gobbled Tick Tock Turkey. ‘You said no more chocolate today and I haven’t had anymore chocolate today. I didn’t touch the Chocolate Tree again today!’ Future Dog shook her head. ‘Then how do you explain that?’ and she pointed at the tree. That is, Future Dog pointed to where the tree should have been. But there was no tree there. ‘Not again,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, ‘it’s got a habit of doing that.’ ‘Oh, Tick Tock Turkey,’ sighed Future Dog, ‘what have you done?’ Tick Tock Turkey flapped his wings and gobbled his story in a rush: ‘You said no more chocolate today but you never said no more chocolate yesterday so I went back in time to yesterday to have more chocolate but there was no Chocolate Tree there so I ate a chocolate root instead and then I came forward in time to today and there’s no Chocolate Tree here either!’ He took a deep breath. ‘So I don’t see how it’s my fault.’ ‘We all love chocolate,’ said Future Dog, ‘but you want to have it all to yourself. That way everyone misses out in the end – even you. Now show me exactly what you did with the watch, and let’s see if we can tidy up this mess. Otherwise there’ll never be any chocolate on Egg Island ever again.’ ‘No one would have any chocolate ever again?’ cried Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I never meant for that. I just wanted a bit of chocolate for myself. Future Dog, we’ve got to save the tree!’ He held up the time watch: ‘I wound the watch back to here – yesterday. That’s about right, isn’t it?’ Future Dog looked at the watch dial and then slapped her forehead with her paw. ‘Tick Tock Turkey! You went back hundreds of years! To when Egg Island was still a part of the land of Turkeytopia!’ ‘Gosh!’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘That explains why everything looked so different.’ ‘The root that you ate must have been the root of the one and only Chocolate Tree when it was just a sapling!’ ‘So that’s why it tasted so incredibly delicious!’ he licked his beak at the memory. Future Dog frowned. ‘Sorry,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, ‘I’m very sorry I ate it.’ ‘Okay,’ said Future Dog, ‘so we need to go back a few moments earlier than you did last time, and stop you before you eat the root.’ Tick Tock Turkey flapped his wings. ‘Eh? We, that is, you and me – are going to go back in time and stop… me? Oh my head, that is confusing.’ ‘Come on,’ said Future Dog. She fiddled with the button on the time watch, grabbed hold of Tick Tock Turkey’s wing, and with a WHOOSH! they were in the ancient land of Turkeytopia. The green jungle was around them, throbbing with the sound of drums. ‘Who’s making the music?’ asked Tick Tock Turkey. ‘It’s got a funky beat.’ ‘Those are the wild turkey tribes,’ said Future Dog. ‘Some of them must be your great, great grandparents!’ ‘Wow,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I should pop round for tea.’ ‘Oh no, that would cause all kinds of confusion,’ said Future Dog, ‘and things are confused enough already. After all – you’re about to meet yourself!’ There was a loud WHOOSH!, and there, stepping out of a cloud of sparks nearby, was another Tick Tock Turkey. ‘What?’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘What?’ said the other Tick Tock Turkey. ‘This should be interesting,’ said Future Dog. ‘Who the egg do you think you are?’ said the other Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m Tick Tock Turkey, you silly bird!’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘You’re having a laugh,’ said the other Tick Tock Turkey. ‘Tell him, Future Dog.’ ‘I’m staying out of this,’ said Future Dog. ‘You’re too scruffy to be me!’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘And you’re too silly to be me!’ said the other Tick Tock Turkey. ‘This is doing my head in. What are you doing here, Future Dog? I thought you were playing volleyball.’ ‘What are you doing here?’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘You haven’t come to steal some chocolate by any chance?’ ‘Oh this is just too weird,’ said the other Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m having a nasty dream from too much chocolate. I won’t be doing that again! I’m off.’ And with that, the other Tick Tock Turkey pushed the button on his time watch and vanished with a loud SHOOWH! ‘I thought that would sort itself out,’ said Future Dog. ‘Well done, Tick Tock Turkey.’ ‘Um, thanks,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘That was the strangest thing that has ever, ever happened.’ ‘Yes, it was rather strange,’ said Future Dog. ‘I don’t understand how that other me was so scruffy and silly. And rude! I’m not like that at all.’ ‘Hmm,’ said Future Dog. ‘And where’s he gone?’ asked Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I don’t like to think there’s another me out there. What if I bump into me again? It’s so confusing.’ ‘Yes, it is rather complicated. But I wouldn’t worry about it right now. Let’s go back to where we started and see if the Chocolate Tree is alright.’ ‘Okey doke,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, still very puzzled. Future Dog pushed the button on the time watch and held tightly onto Tick Tock Turkey’s wing. With a SHOOWH! they found themselves back in the jungle clearing of today. Vines and moss covered the ancient turkey statue, and there in front of them the Chocolate Tree stood tall and brown, laden with bananamatoes and berries, looking healthier and taller than ever before. ‘Well,’ said Future Dog, ‘that’s a good result. The tree looks wonderful!’ ‘Yes it does!’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘Big and delicious. Let’s eat some chocolate to celebrate!’ ‘Oh dear,’ said Future Dog. ‘Haven’t you learned your lesson?’ ‘Lighten up, misery guts!’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘It was a joke. There’d never be any fun around here if it wasn’t for me – the one and only Tick Tock Turkey.’ ‘That’s true,’ said Future Dog. ‘The one and only Tick Tock Turkey – apart from the other Tick Tock Turkey!’ Tick Tock Turkey shook his head. ‘That stupid bird!’ . \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn79.txt b/text/sn79.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..4682121faa4cca071bc4eea35d7639d0d86ad309 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn79.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha Gostwick Duration 22 minutes', "This story is named after a very special recipe created by an ingenious chef called Blobert. It's a story from Egg Island, the home of that famous time travelling bird, Tick Tock Turkey. And it's called The Endless Pudding.", 'It was a hot afternoon on Egg Island. Future Dog had decided that it was time that Tick Tock Turkey should try to get on better with another of the island’s inhabitants – Blobert. Tick Tock Turkey didn’t know Blobert very well, but he had made it clear that he had a very disapproving view of blobs. Future Dog had brought Blobert down to the beach so that his two best friends could have a chance to get to know each other. If you want to know what Blobert looks like, imagine a blob: that’s Blobert. Blobs are not easy to see, and Tick Tock Turkey’s main problem with Blobert was all the effort it took to look at him. Before they could be better friends, Tick Tock Turkey would have to learn to look at blobs without going cross-eyed. Blobert, who is a rather talented cook, had prepared a surprise for Tick Tock Turkey, but he wasn’t allowed to have it until he had tried to be friendly. Tick Tock Turkey had been trying to look at Blobert for nearly an hour, without much success. ‘Blobert,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, throwing his wings up in frustration, ‘why do you have to be so weird! Stand still! There you are. No, gone again. It’s giving me a headache.’ ‘Sorry,’ said Blobert. ‘I know you’re trying. But I’m not weird, really. In fact I’m quite normal. As blobs go, I’m a very ordinary blob.’ ‘Where’s he gone now? Blobert? I can hear you, but you’ve disappeared again.’ Future Dog, who had mastered the art of seeing Blobert, nodded sympathetically: ‘There is a knack to it,’ she said. ‘I’ve spent more time with Blobert than you, Tick Tock Turkey, and with practice I’ve managed to get the hang of it. But it wasn’t easy – I had to make a real effort.’ ‘Why bother?’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m sorry Blobert, but if you were meant to be seen then it wouldn’t be such hard work, would it? You don’t see anyone struggling to see me, now do you? Everyone always knows where I am.’ ‘Yes, they really do,’ sighed Future Dog. ‘I’ve tried to see you Blobert, but it makes my eyes go funny. Can I have my surprise now?’ ‘Not yet,’ said Future Dog. ‘I get this a lot, being a blob,’ said Blobert. ‘The secret is not to try too hard. Don’t squint – relax your eyes. The thing is, I tend to be just slightly to the left of where I am.’ Tick Tock Turkey scrunched up his face: ‘Slightly to the left of where you are? That’s stupid!’ ‘Yes,’ said Blobert, ‘it sounds silly, but that’s the way it is. I’m always slightly to the left of where I am. It can make me seem fuzzy. It’s a nightmare for photographs. People try their best, but they always end up with a picture of a tree or an empty beach. When you look very closely, there’s a blurry part at the edge of the picture. That’s me. I’ve been lopped off the side. It’s very annoying. Actually, I’ve never seen myself, so even I’m not sure what I look like.’ Tick Tock Turkey flapped his wings again: ‘If you want to know what you look like, then do what everybody else does – use a mirror, you silly blob!’ ‘Be nice,’ said Future Dog. ‘I’ve tried a mirror,’ said Blobert. ‘But it’s the same with my reflection. I stand in the proper place, right in front of it, but my reflection is always too far to the left for me to see. It’s rather sad, not knowing what you look like. But then I’m a blob, so I probably look more or less like a blob. And everyone knows a blob when they see one. Except me, I suppose.’ ‘And me,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, ‘so I can’t help you there. I don’t know where to look. Can I have my surprise now?’ ‘One last try, Tick Tock Turkey’ said Blobert. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ Tick Tock Turkey concentrated very, very hard. His eyes stared and he clamped his beak shut tight with the effort. ‘Um… I see… I can see…’ ‘Oh sorry,’ said Blobert, ‘I’m over here. You’re looking the wrong way.’ ‘This is ridiculous!’ gobbled Tick Tock Turkey. ‘You’re having a laugh! Just give me the surprise now!’ He looked harder. ‘Hang on… hang on… Yes! I can see three fingers! Three big, fuzzy, blobby fingers! That’s right, isn’t it Blobert?’ ‘I don’t know,’ said Blobert. ‘I can’t see either.’ Tick Tock Turkey squawked. ‘You stupid… I mean, Future Dog – how many fingers is Blobert holding up?’ Future Dog peered over her sunglasses, just to double-check, then smiled. ‘Well done, Tick Tock Turkey!’ she said. ‘It is three!’ ‘About time,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m getting too dizzy for this. Now give me the surprise. And it had better be a good one.’ ‘It is,’ said Blobert. ‘Come this way.’ Tick Tock Turkey flapped his wings: ‘He’s only gone and vanished again. Which way did he go?’ ‘Over here,’ said Future Dog. Tick Tock Turkey followed them. And there, in a small, shady clearing at the edge of the jungle, sitting on a cool rock, was a large pudding. Tick Tock Turkey’s beak fell open. ‘Oh yes!’ he said, ‘a pudding! What kind of pudding is it?’ ‘This,’ said Blobert, ‘is called a Very Filling Pudding. It’s been cooling here for an hour since I finished cooking it.’ ‘A Very Filling Pudding!’ said Tick Tock Turkey, ‘I like the sound of that!’ ‘And it tastes even better than it sounds,’ said Blobert. ‘Not only does it taste very good, it also leaves you feeling replete.’ ‘What the egg is “replete”?’ asked Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I hope it’s not some kind of tummy ache. I can’t stand tummy aches.’ ‘No, said Future Dog, ‘the word “replete” is a polite way of saying that you’ve eaten enough and that you’re nicely full. But you’re not stuffed! It’s rude to say that you’re stuffed if someone gives you food.’ Tick Tock Turkey shook his head. ‘Well I don’t see the sense of that. What’s the point of eating if you don’t want to get stuffed? And even if you are completely stuffed, it’s not a problem, because there’s still always room for pudding. That’s one of the basic rules of eating. There is always room for pudding. Everyone knows that.’ ‘Well, try some,’ said Blobert, ‘it is your surprise, after all.’ Blobert cut the pudding into three equal pieces. Tick Tock Turkey licked his beak, picked up one of the pieces of pudding and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed happily. ‘Interesting,’ he said, through a mouthful of pudding. Then he took a second piece and stuck it in his mouth. ‘Lovely flavour, um, a delicate combination of tastes. A firm texture, nicely done, Chef.’ Then Tick Tock Turkey quickly gobbled the last piece, swallowing it without even chewing. Future Dog and Blobert looked at the rock, which was now empty apart from a few crumbs. Tick Tock Turkey quickly ate the crumbs as well, licking his beak happily. ‘Fair do’s, Blobert,’ he said. ‘That is not a bad pudding at all. I’ll give you that. Nice job, Blob! A bit moreish, though, isn’t it?’ Future Dog folded her arms, very disappointed. ‘Tick Tock Turkey,’ she said, ‘you ate the whole thing!’ ‘It didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘Thank you very much for the pudding, Blobert, it was very tasty. I am replete.’ ‘My goodness,’ said Blobert. ‘You had the entire pudding. You should feel completely stuffed.’ ‘To be honest,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, patting his grumbling tummy, ‘I don’t feel anywhere near replete. That was just a taster as far as I’m concerned. I need a truckload of that stuff – I’m a growing bird. Come on, Blobert, have you got any more cooked up? I’ve got a right hunger.’ ‘I only made one,’ said Blobert, ‘and that was for all three of us. I really think you’ve had enough. A Very Filling Pudding is surprisingly filling. Usually a spoonful is plenty. Are you sure you feel alright?’ ‘Forget that rubbish, Blobster,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, ‘a little never goes a long way with me! The usual rules don’t apply to this turkey – I’m still ravenous!’ ‘I think Blobert’s right,’ said Future Dog. ‘You should have a rest. I’ve tasted Very Filling Pudding before and it can weigh very heavily on the stomach. Perhaps it just takes longer for you to feel full.’ ‘That’s for sure,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘But I’ve got the taste for it now. How long will it take to make another?’ ‘Oh, I really don’t think you should have any more,’ said Blobert. ‘Anyway, it would take hours to make, and I’m afraid I’ve arranged to go climbing on Egg Mountain this afternoon, so I’ll be too busy. I might have a spare hour or two tomorrow morning.’ Tick Tock Turkey looked thoughtfully at the time watch strapped to his wing. ‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘I could always…’ ‘No you don’t!’ said Future Dog. ‘What?’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Future Dog. ‘You’re thinking of using the watch to zoom into the future and have some more pudding tomorrow when Blobert’s cooked it!’ ‘No I wasn’t,’ said Tick Tock Turkey. And, in fact, although he could be a very silly bird, Tick Tock Turkey was thinking of something much cleverer than that. He gobbled excitedly: ‘Yes! I’ve got an utterly brilliant plan. And I promise I won’t eat any other puddings. You’re both right. I know that one pudding is more than enough.’ He held one wing high in the air. ‘It’s time to use the time watch – I’ll see you two later! Well, I probably won’t be able to see you, Blobert, no offense, but you know what I mean.’ ‘Don’t you dare eat any more puddings!’ said Future Dog. With a quick fiddle on the watch button, Tick Tock Turkey whooshed away in a cloud of sparks. He found himself standing in exactly the same place, beside the rock in the small, shady clearing. And the Very Filling Pudding was there! He had traveled back in time one quarter of an hour. He could hear some voices not far away, down on the beach. It sounded like a dog was trying to teach a very grumpy turkey how to look at a blob. Tick Tock Turkey realised that it was him – with Future Dog and Blobert. He wanted to laugh out loud, but he kept quiet. Now he could eat the pudding again, by eating it before! And he still wouldn’t have had more than one pudding, because it was the same one. Without any delay, he gobbled the pudding in one, two, three mouthfuls ‘Lovely,’ he said, quietly, and patted his tummy. ‘I don’t feel quite so hungry now,’ he said to himself, I suppose I should head back – I mean forward – to when I left. But I could manage a bit more. Perhaps I could have just one more mouthful…’ Tick Tock Turkey twiddled the watch, and whoosh! – he was in the same place again, but another quarter of an hour earlier. And the pudding was there again, all in one piece! He could hear Future Dog down on the beach, explaining to the other Tick Tock Turkey how he should try to see Blobert, and that if he did he could have a surprise. The other Tick Tock Turkey didn’t know what the surprise was going to be – but this Tick Tock Turkey had already had two surprise puddings, and he was about to take a bite out of a third! He tried not to laugh again. He tasted the pudding. It was still warm from the stove, and a bit sticky. But it was absolutely delicious. Tick Tock Turkey couldn’t resist another taste and, before long, and with a bit of effort, he had eaten the whole lot. Again! ‘Same again!’ he said, and without delay, he whooshed back another quarter of an hour – three quarters of an hour in total – and gobbled down yet another Very Filling Pudding. This one didn’t go down so easily and he had to take his time, but finally it was all gone. He sat down and leaned against the rock. ‘Well,’ he said to himself. ‘I’ve got to admit, this Very Filling Pudding is finally starting to feel very filling. My tummy’s definitely full now. I should probably head back. I suppose this is what it feels like to be replete!’ He began to adjust the watch so that he could zoom forward to the future, to when he left Future Dog and Blobert. ‘But it seems such a waste,’ he said. ‘I know that if I go back in time again then there’ll be another delicious pudding. And that one’s going to be fresh out of Blobert’s stove. I’d love to know what it tastes like hot!’ So Tick Tock Turkey adjusted the time watch yet again, and whoosh! The pudding was steaming on the rock, and he could hear Blobert walking away from the clearing and saying hello to Future Dog on the beach. It was a whole hour earlier. He slowly got to his feet, feeling extremely heavy, and rather tired, and leaned towards the pudding. He opened his beak to take a bite, but found that he felt a little ill. ‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘that’s not like me. Pull yourself together, Tick Tock Turkey – don’t let this lovely hot pudding go to waste!’ But no matter how much he tried, the more he thought about the steaming, hot pudding, then the more he started to feel sick, and full up. In fact, he wasn’t just full up; he was fuller than he had ever felt before. ‘My tummy hurts,’ he said. ‘I feel so heavy, and queasy. I can’t stand up.’ By now, Tick Tock Turkey was finding it very hard even to move, and with one final effort he managed to reach across his swollen tummy and adjust the time watch so that it would take him back to where he started, and away from this horrible, sickly pudding. He pushed the button. SHOOWH! ‘He’s back,’ said Blobert. Future Dog and Blobert looked down at Tick Tock Turkey, who was lying on the ground, holding his tummy and moaning. ‘I think,’ said Future Dog, ‘that the Very Filling Pudding has finally made you very full!’ ‘“Full” is not the word,’ groaned Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m super-stuffed!’ ‘It’s more polite to say “replete”,’ said Blobert, who – if you’re lucky enough to be able to see blobs – was smiling. ‘But this time you’re right: this Tick Tock Turkey is super-stuffed indeed!’ And that was the story of the Endless Pudding by Michael Brett. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn8.txt b/text/sn8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..e5a4580d7f67735d136c4ccff1f5858c2ea9e5e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn8.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +A fortune telling craze is spreading through school. Katie warns her friends that predicting the future can be dangerous, and is proved right in this story that is just a little more SPOOKY than usual. Do you have any Halloween stories or experiences you could share with us from school or home? Maybe you have a spooky costume for Halloween. Share your comments with me and I’ll respond back to you! Story by Bertie. Proofread by Jana Elizabeth. It was the long-hour of the school lunch break. In a corner of class 4A, a group of children huddled around a desk. In the midst of them, Samantha was nimbly shuffling a deck of cards. Not just any old cards, like ones with clubs and hearts, but an especially beautiful and mystical kind known as Tarot cards. Samantha fanned out the pack and invited Isis to pick a card, any card. Isis thought carefully and pulled out one to the side that looked like it was almost hiding from her. She turned it face up on the desk. Its picture showed a maiden dancing on top of a globe with a wand in each hand. “Ooh, you lucky beggar!”exclaimed Samantha. “You picked “The World.”That card means you’re going to be so horribly rich and successful.” Isis wasn’t entirely surprised by this result. She flicked her hair and said modestly: “Oh well, we’ll just have to see about that… but if it does come true, I promise I won’t forget my friends, not ever, not even when I’m really, really rich and famous!” You see, Tarot cards carry images like The World, the Fool, The Magician or The Hanging Man, and some people believe that they hold secret meanings that can predict your future. Fortune telling was the latest craze to sweep through Katie’s school. Before that it had been kiss chase, and before that swapping Pokemon cards. There had even been a craze for collecting smiley frog pens. It was only a matter of time before Mrs Hepworth, the head teacher, would ban fortune telling, just as she had banned all the previous crazes. But for now, just about everyone kept a pack of Tarot cards, or mystic crystals, or even just a pair of lucky dice in his or her desk, or pocket, or school bag. Everyone – that is – except for Katie. Katie didn’t believe in fortune telling. Her mother had always warned her against it, and to underline the perils of glimpsing the future, she used to tell Katie the following story: Long, long ago, a King called Croesus ruled the land of Sardis. He enjoyed great wealth, but instead of being satisfied with his comforts, he longed to conquer lands and found an empire. In those ancient times, there were mystic fortune tellers called Oracles. Croesus consulted the Oracle of Delphi about his future. She told him that if he declared war on Persia, a great kingdom would fall. Croesus was encouraged by this prediction. He returned home and led his armies against Persia. A great kingdom did indeed fall, but it wasn’t the Persians, as he had understood the oracle to mean, but his own. “You see Katie,” said her mother, “sometimes you can correctly predict part of the future, but you can never see the whole picture, and that can be very misleading and dangerous.” She was a bit disappointed when she learned that Max had discovered the same prediction in another cookie when he had visited the restaurant the week before. Then somebody else brought a cardboard wheel of fortune that had come as a free toy with a comic. If you spun it, you could get predictions like “You will make a new friend” or “If you work hard, you will pass your exams.”They weren’t exactly thrilling fortunes, but they helped idle away some dull moments in the lunch break. But when Samantha brought her mystic cousin’s Tarot cards to school, that was it: the fortune-telling craze spread like chicken pox. On the day that Isis picked “The World” card, everybody was talking about it. Katie said: “Don’t be silly. Only a mystic person can tell fortunes, otherwise the cards don’t mean a thing. They’re just pretty pictures.” “Katie’s jealous,” whispered Isabelle . “She thinks she’s the only one who knows anything about magic,” said Samantha, “But my cousin Maureen is mystic, so I think I can be too. It runs in my family.” “Well you’re not,” declared Katie. “And if you carry on like this, no good will come of it. You’ll see soon enough. I’ll give you that prediction for free!” And although Katie suspected that Isabelle was pulling a face behind her back, she didn’t really care, because if being unpopular was the price of telling the truth, then it was a price worth paying. As it turned out, Katie’s prediction was one that did come true. The very next day, Samantha fanned out the Tarot pack as usual, and Jennie picked the wrong card. When I say the “wrong card” I mean it was totally freaky: it showed a tomb-stone, with the letters “RIP” written on it. “What does it mean?” she asked in almost a whisper. Her face was white. She knew what it meant. “Rest In Peace,” replied Samantha solemnly. “You picked the Card of Death.” Later that afternoon in class, when Miss Vile asked Jennie if she knew what was the biggest animal that ever lived on Earth, Jennie didn’t reply. She didn’t even hear the question. Her mind was frozen with fear. After school, people were trying to cheer her up. Ravi said, “Don’t fret Jennie, perhaps it’s only your cat that’s going to die.” And Jennie burst into tears. “What’s all this nonsense about now?” butted in Katie. In answer to her question, Ravi drew his finger across his throat and said “kikkkkkkkh”. And Isis whispered in her ear that Jennie had picked the Card of Death. When she heard this, Katie marched up to the culprit who was the cause of all this worry and confusion, and in a flurry of righteous fury she said: “I told you, Samantha Jones, that no good would come of fortune-telling – and now look what’s happened. You’ve terrified the life out of poor Jennie. You’re a dangerous amateur and you don’t know what you’re doing. The Card of Death isn’t necessarily a bad one. It can mean positive things like, unexpected change, or a new beginning.” “And how come you’re suddenly such a Miss Know-it-all about the cards?” demanded Samantha. “Because I am,” stated Katie firmly. Of course, it’s an open secret that Katie is a witch, and that she knows a great deal about anything magical or mystical. And poor frightened Jennie, who was listening to all this, began to see a glimmer of hope that she might live to see her next birthday after all. Katie went home with a certain satisfaction that she had been proven right. But the next morning Jennie came to school looking more sad than ever. You see, it was true, her cat had died. After that, Samantha’s reputation as a mystic and fortune teller was firmly established. The word reached the ear of Mrs Hepworth and she duly banned fortune telling at school. Nobody was particularly surprised. But even Mrs Hepworth’s stern writ did not reach into her pupil’s time at home. The following Friday was Halloween, and while the other kids went out trick-or-treating, Samantha’s best friends gathered at her house for a seance, which is like, when you try and get in touch with people who have departed this world to the other side of life. Isis, Jennie and Isabelle were there – and so was Samantha’s cousin, Mystic Maurine. They went down to the basement of Samantha’s house, which was used as a games room. The family kept things there like a ping-pong table, a bar, a football set, a wendy house, a punch ball for her brother, and a wooden puppet theatre. It was a cool hang-out, but the light was low, and at night, especially on a date like Halloween, it could be rather creepy. Mystic Maureen sat at the table. Before her was spread a board that depicted the Sun and the Moon encircled by letters and numbers. “How do you play this game?” asked Jennie, a little timidly. “This is no pretty game for little children, my dear,” said Maureen. Although Maureen was only three years older than Samantha, she had an air of being very grown up, and seemed to model her look on a vampire. She had a pale face, straight black hair, and blood-red lipstick. To play the Ouija board, the children had to place their hands in a pile on top of a heart-shaped float. Maureen asked: “Spirit are you with us?” And the float started to skate across the board, as if propelled by a mystic power. Everyone’s hands followed, as it visited the letters Y-E-S. “Spirit, do you have a message for us?” For the next couple of minutes, the float spelt out the following message: “Beware False Magic. Beware Black Friday. Beware Beware Beware.” “Oh Pooh,” said Isis. “This is nonsense.” Suddenly the float stopped moving. “The spirit is gone,” said Maureen, “It is offended by what you said.” Samantha was cross with Isis, but both Jennie and Isabelle were relieved that the spirit had departed. The girls went upstairs to drink hot chocolate, and as they sat around the rather more friendly kitchen table, they discussed what the psychic message could mean. “It’s obvious,” said Samantha. “Beware False Magic” – that can only mean Katie. She lets everyone think she’s a witch, but she isn’t, she’s just weird.And “Beware Black Friday” – That means Katie’s birthday, which is next Friday. Everyone should stay away from her party, because something really bad is bound to happen. The spirit world is angry with her for doing false magic. The board doesn’t lie, does it Maureen?” And Maureen agreed: “I wouldn’t got to that party next Friday for love or money.” On Monday, the news soon spread that some terrible catastrophe would hit Katie’s party on Friday. Katie was furious with Isis for taking part in Samantha’s seance. And Isis was furious with Katie, because she didn’t know that the Ouija board was going to say bad things about Katie’s party, and besides she had pooh-poohed it. “Well you didn’t pooh-pooh loud enough because everyone thinks my party’s jinxed.” And Isis went off in a huff because her friend was being totally unfair to her. Some people started to make excuses about not being able to come to Katie’s party – like Isabelle who said she had to go to the doctor’s, and Ravi whose aunty was suddenly having her 60th birthday party that night. Lots of people just didn’t say if they were coming or not, so Katie’s mother didn’t know how many chocolate toad-stools or candy-floss cobwebs to make for the party. In fact, Katie wasn’t even sure if her best friend Isis was coming, because they weren’t talking to each other. Even on Friday morning, Katie was still wondering if anybody at all would come to her party. She arrived at class feeling rather lonely and sad – but at least she wasn’t hopping mad like Samantha, because on the way to school Samantha had stepped in some dog poo. Their teacher, Miss Vile, announced that there would be a surprise Geography test, and anybody who didn’t get 7 out of 10 or more would have to stay in at lunch break and learn the names of the longest rivers in the world. Katie didn’t mind this at all, because Geography was one of her best subjects – but Samantha hated Geography, and she knew she would fail the test, and she duly did. After lunch, Samantha decided to put chewing gum in Katie’s chair. When Katie stood up at the end of the lesson, Samantha called out; “Ooh Yuck. Katie’s got chewing gum stuck to her bottom” – and several people laughed. Miss Vile suspected that somebody had played a trick on poor Katie, and she came round to inspect everyone’s desks. She spotted Samanatha trying to sneak a packet of chewing gum out of her desk and into her pocket, and she gave her double detention for having illegal chewing gum and for playing a mean trick. Katie ran out of school to get home quickly, get changed, and ready for her party. She was excited now, because even if none of her school friends came, at least her mum and dad and her cousins would be there. Samantha was feeling more than just a bit gloomy when her mother asked her: “How was your day sweety?” And she replied: “Rotten.” Her mother said: “I’m sorry darling, but I’ve got a disappointment for you. Dad doesn’t want to get a puppy after all. He says that a pet would be a nuisance when we want to go away on holiday.” “Oh Poo, Double Poo and Pants!”exclaimed Samantha, because that news just about rounded off the worst Friday ever for her. Meanwhile the door bell rang at Katie’s house. She ran to open it, and was given a card, a present, and a kiss by Paul, who didn’t go to her school anymore, but whom she really, really liked a lot. Soon after, Jennie rang the bell. And then Judith. And then Rishi, and then Winston. There were quite a few absences, but she knew that those who were there were her best and bravest friends. But there was no Isis. Katie was too excited to worry about no-show Isis right now, but every now and then she had a feeling that she was going to be sad later when she remembered how she had lost her best friend over a silly quarrel. But at half past six, just as Katie was about to blow out her candles, the door bell rang again, and of course it was Isis, and had spent rather a long time deciding which party frock to wear. Hardly anybody was surprised because Isis was known for being late. In fact she seemed to make a point of it. But Katie was all the more pleased to see her friend because she hadn’t expected her. And of course nothing went wrong at Katie’s party because it wasn’t her Black Friday, but Samantha’s. And that was the story of Katie’s Black Friday. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn80.txt b/text/sn80.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..67e82f5b83290a67ad45368931db5f43ba6eaa62 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn80.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Tick Tock Turkey fans have been begging us for more tails of the time-travelling bird. In fact, they've been begging us for YEARS ! We are pleased to say that Tick Tock's creator, Michael Brett has penned another story for us (with a little help from Natasha). And here it is...", 'As you may recall, Tick Tock Turkey lives on Egg Island with Future Dog and various other creatures. They have been planning a huge Honolulu style festival. The weather should be as perfect as it (almost) always is on Egg island. It seems like all is set for a wonderful party. The float could take on board quite a few hundred people, so once it was ready all the creatures of Egg Island could hop on board. There would be an inflatable raft that would drop down to the beach on the shore edge, so all the creatures could travel to the float. The Honolulu performance festival would last two days and three nights and would take place in late July. A few hundred yards out into the sea of Egg Island, upon the Carnival float, Tick Tock Turkey was still working on the giant sign to advertise it to the Island. He was to be managing the float this year and he also had to prepare all the different drink preparations for the carnival procession in advance. Coconut and Pineapple Smoothie Delight. Mango and Passion fruit Surprise. Strawberry fresh and Chocoloate swirl crush. The list was endless. Cocktail sticks and straws.... “I think we need a little more elp” said Clive. “Ave you thought about getting some people to help with serving ze drinks from Egg Island? Maybe ze monkeys will elp...?” Tick Tock Turkey turned his head sharply in dismay... “Oh no, not the monkeys! They’re not to be trusted! We need some more sensible creatures.” “Well, I do know a few starfish,” said Clive. Tick Tock Turkey smiled: “Ok, let me know!” Meanwhile back on the beach, Future Dog was teaching some Yoga for poise and posture to the award-winning troupe of festival dancers. They had put together a wonderful dance of spiral, turns, leaps and shimmies but they had been practising so hard some of them were starting to complain of backache. Future Dog led them into the Cat position: “This isn’t my favourite,” she said slowly and calmly, “but it will sort your back out.” They all let out a big sigh of relief: “Ahhh!!!” As the evening drew on they saw the red sun setting out at sea, and Tick Tock and Clive returned from making lots of drink preparations. The Honolulu dancers, who seemed to have never stopped dancing, were swaying silently. “How are you?” said Tick Tock to Future Dog, who was sitting under a palm tree in a meditating position whilst reading her favourite book.', "“Oh not too bad,” she said, “I'm just leaving the dancers to it.”", '“Yes, good idea,” said Tick Tock, “have you considered giving them some music to dance to? Future Dog looked up. “I’ve got a great Elvis Collection you know. And it could work just the treat.” “Yes, that could well lighten them up.” “Blue Moon!” They both nodded their heads in agreement. “I’ll get my iPod and see if I can download it from Egg café,” said Future Dog. It will be much simpler that way. See you soon!” And off she padded into the path through the palm trees. Tick Tock looked out to sea. He could see the raft bobbing up and down on the waves. “Hmm… What to do? Ahhh yes… Clive said he would ask the starfish for me to see if they could help…” But as he looked down the long peach-coloured beach of Egg Island he could see Clive scuttling off in the distance on his way home.. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”', "The next morning, Tick Tock Turkey woke up to the sound of Blue Moon. He had fallen fast asleep through tiredness under Future Dog's Tree, and now he could make out in the haze of heat of the Island the dancers moving in a long line backwards and forwards just as he had imagined. They were also making circular patterns…", '“Ah that must be for the moon,” he thought. “I wonder if they can make the shape of an ellipse? (Which is a half-shape moon.) Future Dog was waving directions at them with twinkling butterfly hands; she was truly proficient at this. “Are you going out to the raft today?” she called out to Tick Tock Turkey. Tick Tock Turkey spun around: “Whhhhhhhhhhh oh yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhh…” He felt a bit dizzy “This song is working a treat! Thanks Tick Tock,” said Future Dog, smiling delightedly. She had her coolest pair of shades on for the sun was beating down very heavily today and there was not a cloud in sight in the blue sky. “Be sure to wear some sun-cream,” she said. “Yes yesss...” And off he scuttled by the raft, just in time to see Clive with three gorgeous, golden starfish following him...', "“You're a gem!” he said.", '“This is Sparky, Suki, and Sarah.” said Clive, introducing the three starfish who had beautiful, big, gleaming eyes. “Hello,” they chorused. “And zey are not only good at making ze drinks, but zey can sing too!” “Excellent,” said Tick Tock.', "“Let’s get on board that raft. We've got lots more preparation to carry on with before this show goes out on the road. Don't you think? And I need to see how the Penguins are getting on.”", 'They climbed into the little rubber dinghy and as they drew closer to the Carnival float, they could see the penguins ascending into the air like sky rockets... “Weeeeeeeeee!” said the starfish in delight, for they had never seen anything like it. “How on Earth are they doing it?” said Tick Tock. “I think zey must have got ze Trampoline out. At least zey are practicing...” But Tick Tick Tock Turkey did not like it one bit. He pulled out his mega speaker cone-shaped microphone. “Stop this, this instant!” he called out. “This is highly dangerous and not to be done on board the carnival float!”', "But Tick Tock pursed his lips and held his breath. He wasn't too happy.", '“Well, it looks trés impressive,” said Clive climbing on board the raft.', "“Yes,” said Tick Tock, “but I don't trust those Penguins. They are dangerous... If anything happens I’ll get it in the neck. Just be careful,” he said as he looked out to sea. And they were all playing a little bit more safely now, splashing about in the waves.", "“Throw them some of the arm bands,” he said to Clive. “That'll keep them safe in the waves for now. Right, starfish come with me!”", 'Tick Tock Turkey led all the creatures up the raft and onto the festival boat. The performance acts were due to start at 6pm that night, and Tick Tock Turkey was getting excited. Clive the Crab was busy making milkshakes and they had shown one another differences in what they had been doing. All the Egg Island creatures crammed on board and were awestruck by the sight they saw. The Penguin Gymnasts has formed a super triangle and were waving brightly-coloured festival flags in the air. The Penguin at the top was wobbling a bit, which amused Tick Tock Turkey, but Future Dog was scowling slightly. She didn’t trust the menacing little Penguins one bit. Suddenly off they jumped and scattered left right and centre, popping off in all directions like fire crackers. Luckily they still had their arm bands on and they floated when they hit the water off the boat. Tick Tock Turkey turned to Future Dog: “Impressive!” he said. Future Dog leaned forward: “Hmmm. At least they held it together.”', "“Right I’m off,” said Tick Tock, looking at his watch, “I've got an announcement to make for the Cocktail Buffet. Do you want me to introduce the Hawaiian Dancers, FD?”", '“Yes, that would be fab,” she said, perusing the deck for her dancing troupe. “Let’s just hope the people of Egg Island turn up,” said Tick Tock. No sooner had he spoken than a little rustling came from the trees. It was like the sound of birds cheeping and they had a lot of different sounds to their voices including different types of humming and rustling. “Sounds like zey are coming!” said Clive, “quick - let’s get ze spread sheet cover on,” and they both made a last-minute tidy to get everything looking nice. When Tick Tock Turkey ventured back to the boat he saw Future Dog handing out tickets to the locals. They were all of different types and ways and had lots of different ways about them. Tick Tock Turkey was eventually happy and not all together wise with the words he had seen and made. It was all together a shocking sight to see and not all together very wise for him to know of. [Natasha – that last bit sounds nice but I don’t quite understand what it means!] Tick Tock Turkey made another slow look around: “Right, I’ll make the announcement then!” Future Dog smiled, everything seemed to be in order and going to plan. She liked this sense of calm about the boat. “Ladies and gentleman, kids and pets, it is my absolute pleasure to announce the opening of Egg Island Carnival on sea! I hope you enjoyed the Penguins. We are shortly to have cocktail buffet, where you can enjoy drinks and snacks courtesy of us and hosted by Clive.” Clive scuttled sideways to Tick Tock. He was waving his pincers and he shouted greetings.', "“And then,” said Tick Tock Turkey, gesturing sideways to where Future Dog was standing, “we will have the amazing and talented festival dancers of Honolulu to entertain you! And not to mention our live band: 'Marvin and the Mussels'!”", 'The entire crowd seemed impressed and they chattered together with what sounded like delight. The whole carnival float boat seemed to buzz with excitement whilst it bobbed on the waves. Marvin and the Mussels began playing. There were two guitarists and a bass player who looked like mussels with their shiny grey coats, and the lead singer Marvin, who wore shiny grey trousers, swayed back and forth with his saxophone. The festival dancers of Honolulu pranced in with their backwards and forwards Latino hip dancing, and gave a festive rhythm by clapping coconuts in their hands. The crowd of Egg Island were very much enjoying themselves and one by one they moved towards the moon-shaped dance floor and started their swing dancing. There were couples doing kick steps and side steps. “Come on,” said Future Dog to Tick Tock Turkey, “let’s go Swing Dancing and find a way to swing to our hearts’ content!” “Off we go! One, two three!” Boing Boing! And the pair danced for glee, they were so good people made space for them on the dance floor It was nearing 10 o’clock and the people of the Egg Island had been dancing for three hours. The festival dancers of Honolulu were preparing for their final grand act… The crowd saw them moving towards the silver stage that Clive and Tick Tock Turkey had prepared for them. Future Dog was smiling with glee, she had butterflies in her stomach as she was truly nervous for them. They made a formation and then suddenly they started dancing with their garlands, hula-hooping and spinning and twisting and swaying in patterns and shaped and diagonal formations, it appeared effortless... But Future Dog knew it was hard! The whole effect was kaleidoscopic and the dancers themselves were over-joyed to say the least. Meanwhile, Tick Tock Turkey was taking extra safety precautions with Clive the Crab by tying his pincers together with rubber bands so that he couldn’t accidentally burst the inflatable float, and Percy the plaice was busy making origami napkins. The band were playing their hearts out, and there was little time left before all the creatures would be together and playing in a nearby field with what they were doing. The carnival dancers were still spiralling, and the drum beats of Marvin and the Mussels who had started playing slow romantic music as the moon and stars had come out at sea over the island at sea in the blue waters. All the young sweethearts of Egg Island were dancing now with glee.', "Suddenly Future Dog felt a spatter of water on her nose. And as she looked up to the sky, and the darkening heavy grey clouds that were forming, she sensed it was going to rain. She turned to Tick Tock Turkey and said, “it's going to rain, what on earth are we going to do? The Carnival float boat isn't that strong!”", "“Don't be silly, FD,” said Tick Tock Turkey, but not sooner had he said this when the whole sky began to crack with thunder and the rain started coming down thicker and faster.", '“Quick, quick, for shelter!” screeched Clive, “ze canapés!” Together with Percy they put a sheet over the multi-coloured drinks table. “We will have to come back for all of zis…” Tick Tock Turkey grabbed the cone-like mega phone: “Attention, ladies and gentleman - we will have to take cover, there is an emergency due to a storm overhead. As a measure of caution, I urge you to take any valuables with you.” The people crowded to one side of the boat in panic. The rain was coming down thicker now... and all of a sudden a huge piece of thunder cracked the middle of the boat down the middle and the whole Island was caught in a state of mass panic. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” “I know!” said Future Dog suddenly, “we can find a way to see if the penguins will help bring us to shore in the emergency dinghy. Quick Tick Tock - grab this rope here and tie it around the dinghy at the far end. Ok off we go, hey ho!” The penguins were flapping up and down and clinging on the side of the boat. They were still about because they had rubber arm bands on. Future Dog called out to them: “You have to help us penguin, and pull the boat to shore to save Egg Island!” She and Tick Tock heaved the emergency dinghy to the water, and the party people of Egg Island climbed onto the boat. With their brightly-coloured clothes and shoes they looked like a mass of piranhas as they neared the water. Meanwhile Marvin and the Mussels were still playing, though their music was getting sadder and more tragic sounding.', "Clive and Percy were still anticipating the worst and they were hiding under the giant telescope; they couldn't bear to leave the festival carnival float boat. What else could they do? It was of no and little use whatsoever to them… That much was for certain... They could tell.", 'All the people of Egg Island climbed into the boat down a ladder from the side, relieved to be saved from the storm, and rain still pouring down. Suddenly forty penguins appeared and placed the rope coming from the emergency boat around their tiny little waists. As they swam, the little boat with all ten persons from Egg Island was safely pulled back across the choppy waves to the shore. Luckily, it was not that far.', "Tick Tock Turkey and Future Dog sat on the edge of the boat. They could hear the band still playing. “They're mad!” exclaimed Tick Tock. The dancers, who were also good swimmers, had a little raft of their own. They could see them rowing back to shore in their little rubber dinghy.", 'Suddenly both friends turned to one another: What about Clive and Percy? Where were they?', "They couldn't see them on the boat. They both looked sharply back at back at the sinking carnival float in the distance…", 'Meanwhile, back on the float: Clive and Percy were sending an SOS signal out to the sky! In tiny little blow-off rockets. They were in a state of panic, still unable to face leaving the boat. What else could they do, but wait and wait and see? What would happen?! “We are going to perish,” said Percy, who seemed to have forgotten his old sea life under the waves (he had been on Egg Island so long). Percy suddenly had a second will to survive; he turned to Clive and said, “Let us pop the float and we can travel back in two little round rubber rings... I know there is one left!” Together they hopped into the round rubber dinghy and before they rowed off, Clive called to the musicians, “Quick! Jump now, for your lives, mes amis! Ze festival float is going down!” And as he said this, he pinched a hole in the side of the float to let all the air out of it. After this, the float began sinking rapidly and they could see Marvin and the Mussels sailing off in rubber dinghies. “Where did they get those from?” said Percy to Clive. But Clive had buried his head in his pincers. He was too sad to speak at the loss of the Carnival float he had personally inflated. When the fish and the crab reached the shore of Egg Island they were greeted by Tick Tock and Future Dog. “You’re alive!” they both said. They were overjoyed to see them. But Clive looked so sad. He turned to Tick Tock and said “Ze Carnival Float and ze Party festival of Honolulu ruined forever!” “Oh Clive,” said Tick Tock sympathetically. “Listen, there still might be a chance to keep the party alive,” said Future Dog as she looked up to the sky. It was beginning to clear. “In the early morning light… we could do a festival party finale... what say you Tick Tock?”', "“Well yes, but we'd have to make it extra special.. and to cheer Clive up... something to brew up the milkshakes!”", "“Well, you haven't used your Time Travelling watch yet, have you Tick Tock?” intimated Future Dog.", '“Oh yes! How could I have forgotten?” said Tick Tock, as he looked at his red time-travelling wrist watch.', "“I'm going to go back in time and get something truly magical for the festival finale!”", '“Great,” said Future Dog as she rushed off to get the festival dancers. When she turned around Tick Tock Turkey was gone. She looked up to the sky and saw a streak of purple and white... “Wherever has he gone to I wonder...?” But it was pointless thinking about it. Instead she thought she would help to see if Marvin and the Mussels would resurrect their playing and organise a little salsa class to keep the revived partygoers of Egg Island entertained until Tick Tock Turkey would come back with his magic ingredient. The Festival dancers of Honolulu were busy doing splits and handstands and moving about the beach.... Clive and Percy the Crab were busy with hats and pieces of string all set to different tunes and styles, they could little help themselves now, it seemed. Future Dog thought she had better practise her Yoga for the day, Tick Tock Turkey would be back any second now. No sooner had she thought this than Tick Tock Turkey landed right next to her with a thump. He had in his hand a very funny-looking bird, and in his some cocktail sticks! “All the way from Hawaii!” he squawked. “What think you, Future Dog?” “I think Clive and Percy will be delighted to see it,” she remarked back. “When you see them you can tell them all about it,” said Future Dog, who was in a funny swan-like position. “OK, see you later!” said Tick Tock Turkey to Future Dog.', "Half an hour later, Future Dog found Tick Tock Turkey with a very happy Clive and Little Percy with a magical drinks and buffet table decorated with Tick Tock Turkey's little sparkling glitter cocktail sticks from 1950s Honolulu.", 'Suddenly some other dancers she had not seen before appeared and they had little red jackets on and peddle-pusher blue jeans. “And these are original dancers from the 1950s!” said Tick Tock, “I thought I would keep them for you as a surprise. They really know how to rock ’n’ roll!”', "“Yum yumm,” he said, tasting one, “these are amazing! Here's to the finale of Honolulu on Egg Island ! Tick Tock, bye bye!”", 'And needless to say the whole of Egg Island danced all night long and through the next day, until it was vibrating and moved the waves of its surrounding waters, impressing the nearby Islands. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn81.txt b/text/sn81.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..c66c45a06b79f46af00a0ef310b74d7706cca18c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn81.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This is a RATHER SCARY STORY. Children and adults might be a touch frightened by Natasha’s rendering of the wicked witch who wants to cook little Hansel and Gretel. But they will also be enraptured by Hansel and Gretel’s ingenuity as they triumph over evil. This version of the classic story by The Brothers Grimm is from the Blue Fairy Book of Andrew Lang, published in 1889. Read by Natasha. Duration 23 minutes. ONCE upon a time there dwelled on the outskirts of a large forest a poor woodcutter with his wife and two children; the boy was called Hansel, and the girl Gretel. He always had little enough to live on, and once, when times were bad, they had to get by with one piece of bread and butter each. One night, as he was tossing about in bed, full of cares and worry, he sighed and said to his wife, “What’s to become of us? How are we to feed our poor children, now that we have nothing more for ourselves?” “I’ll tell you what, husband,” answered the woman, “early tomorrow morning we’ll take the children out into the thickest part of the wood. There we shall light a fire for them and give them each a piece of bread; then we’ll go on to our work and leave them alone. They won’t be able to find their way home, and we shall be rid of them.” “No, wife,” said her husband, “that I won’t do; how could I find it in my heart to leave my children alone in the wood? The wild beasts would soon come and tear them to pieces.” “Oh! You fool,” said she, “then we must all four die of hunger, and you may just as well go and saw the boards for our coffins.” They argued and argued, until he agreed that they must get rid of Hansel and Gretel. “But I can’t help feeling sorry for the poor children,” added the husband. The children, too, had not been able to sleep for hunger, and had heard what their stepmother had said to their father. Gretel wept bitterly and spoke to Hansel, “Now it’s all up with us.” “No, no, Gretel,” said Hansel, “don’t fret yourself; I’ll be able to find a way to escape, no fear.” When the old people had fallen asleep he got up, slipped on his little coat, opened the back door and stole out. The moon was shining clearly, and the white pebbles which lay in front of the house glittered like bits of silver. Hansel bent down and filled his pocket with as many of them as he could cram in. Then he went back and said to Gretel, “Be comforted, my dear little sister, and go to sleep. God will not desert us,” and he lay down in bed again. At daybreak, even before the sun was up, the woman came and woke the two children, “Get up, you lie-abeds, we’re all going to the forest to fetch wood.” She gave them each a bit of bread and said, “There’s something for your luncheon, but don’t you eat it up beforehand, for it’s all you’ll get.” Gretel took the bread under her apron, as Hansel had the stones in his pocket. Then they all set out together on the way to the forest. After they had walked a little, Hansel stood still and looked back at the house, and this manoeuvre he repeated again and again. His father observed him, and said, “Hansel, what are you gazing at there? Why do you always remain behind? Take care, and don’t lose your footing.” ', "When they had reached the middle of the forest the father said, “Now children, go and fetch a lot of wood, and I’ll light a fire that you may not feel cold.” Hansel and Gretel heaped up brushwood until they had made a pile nearly the size of a small hill. The brushwood was set fire to, and when the flames leaped high the woman said, “Now lie down at the fire, children, and rest yourselves: We are going into the forest to cut down wood, and when we've finished we’ll come back and fetch you.”", 'Hansel and Gretel sat down beside the fire, and at midday ate their little bits of bread. They heard the strokes of the axe, so they thought their father was quite near. But it was no axe they heard, but a bough he had tied on a dead tree, and that was blown about by the wind. When they had sat for a long time their eyes closed with fatigue, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke at last, it was pitch dark. Gretel began to cry, and said, “How are we ever to get out of the wood?” ', "Hansel comforted her. “Wait a bit,” he said, “until the moon is up, and then we’ll find our way sure enough.” When the full moon had risen, he took his sister by the hand and followed the pebbles, which shone like new threepenny bits, and showed them the path. They walked on through the night, and at daybreak reached their father’s house again. They knocked at the door, and when the woman opened it she exclaimed, “You naughty children, what a time you've slept in the wood to! We thought you were never going to come back.” The father rejoiced, for his conscience had reproached him for leaving his children behind by themselves.", "The children were awake again, and had heard the conversation. When the old people were asleep Hansel got up, and wanted to go out and pick up pebbles again, as he had done the first time; but the woman had barred the door, and Hansel couldn't get out. But he consoled his little sister, and said, “Don’t cry, Gretel, and sleep peacefully, for God is sure to help us.”", 'At early dawn the woman came and made the children get up. They received their bit of bread, but it was even smaller than the time before. On the way to the wood Hansel crumbled it in his pocket, and every few minutes he stood still and dropped a crumb on the ground. “Hansel, what are you stopping and looking about you for?” Said the father. “I’m looking back at my little pigeon, which is sitting on the roof waving me a farewell,” answered Hansel. ', "“Fool!” said the wife; “that isn't your pigeon, it’s the morning sun glittering on the chimney.” But Hansel gradually threw all his crumbs on the path. The woman led the children still deeper into the forest farther than they had ever been in their lives before. Then a big fire was lit again, and the mother said, “Just sit down there children, and if you’re tired you can sleep a bit; we’re going into the forest to cut down wood, and in the evening when we’re finished we’ll come back to fetch you.” ", "The children answered, “'Tis heaven’s own child, the tempest wild,” and went on eating, without putting themselves about. ", 'Hansel, who thoroughly appreciated the roof, tore down a big bit of it, while Gretel pushed out a whole round window pane, and sat down the better to enjoy it. Suddenly the door opened, and an ancient dame, leaning on a staff, hobbled out. Hansel and Gretel were so terrified that they let what they had in their hands fall. The old woman shook her head and said, “Oh, ho! You dear children, who led you here? Just come in and stay with me, no ill shall befall you.” She took them both by the hand, led them into the house, and laid a most sumptuous dinner before them; milk and sugared pancakes, with apples and nuts. After they had finished, two beautiful little white beds were prepared for them, and when Hansel and Gretel lay down in them they felt as if they had gone to heaven.', "The old woman had appeared to be most friendly, but she was really an old witch who had waylaid the children, and had only built the little bread house in order to lure them in. When anyone came into her power; she killed, cooked and ate him, and held a regular feast day for the occasion. Now witches have red eyes, and cannot see far, but like beasts, they have a keen sense of smell, and know when human beings pass by. When Hansel and Gretel fell into her hands she laughed maliciously, and said jeeringly, “I’ve got them now; they shan't escape me.” ", 'Early in the morning, before the children were awake, she rose up, and when she saw them both sleeping so peacefully, with their round rosy cheeks, she muttered to herself, “That’ll be a dainty bite.” Then she seized Hansel with her bony hand and carried him into a little stable, and barred the door on him. He might have screamed as much as he liked, for it would do him no good. Then she went to Gretel, shook her until she awoke, and cried, “Get up, you lazy bones, fetch water and cook something for your brother. When he’s fat I’ll eat him up.” Gretel began to cry bitterly, but it was of no use; she had to do what the wicked witch bade her. So the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Gretel got nothing but crab shells. Every morning the old woman hobbled out to the stable and cried, “Hansel, put out your finger, that I may feel if you are getting fat.” But Hansel always stretched out a bone, and the old dame, whose eyes were dim, couldn’t see it. Thinking always it was Hansel’s finger, she wondered why he fattened so slowly. When four weeks had passed and Hansel still remained thin, she lost patience and determined to wait no longer. “Hi, Gretel,” she called to the girl, "Be quick and get some water. Hansel may be fat or thin, I’m going to kill him tomorrow and cook him." Oh! How the poor little sister sobbed as she carried the water, and how the tears rolled down her cheeks! “Kind heaven help us now!” She cried. “If only the wild beasts in the wood had eaten us, then at least we should have died together.” “Just hold your peace,” said the old hag, “it won’t help you.” Early in the morning, Gretel had to go out and hang up the kettle full of water, and light the fire. “First we’ll bake,” said the old dame. “I’ve heated the oven already and kneaded the dough.” She pushed Gretel out to the oven, from which fiery flames were already issuing. “Creep in,” said the witch, “and see if it’s properly heated, so that we can shove in the bread.” When she had got Gretel in she meant to close the oven and let the girl bake, that she might eat her up too. But Gretel perceived her intention, and said, “I don’t know how I’m to do it; how do I get in?” “You silly goose!” Said the hag. “The opening is big enough, see, I could get in myself,” and she crawled toward it, and poked her head into the oven. Then Gretel gave her a shove that sent her right in, shut the iron door, and drew the bolt. Gracious! How she yelled; it was quite horrible, but Gretel fled and the wretched old woman was left to perish miserably. Gretel flew straight to Hansel, opened the little stable door and cried, “Hansel, we are free; the old witch is dead!” Then Hansel sprang like a bird out of a cage when the door is opened. How they rejoiced, fell on each other’s necks, jumped for joy, and kissed one another! As they had no longer any cause for fear, they went in the old hag’s house, and here they found, in every corner of the room, boxes with pearls and precious stones. “These are even better than pebbles,” said Hansel, and crammed his pockets full of them. Gretel said, “I too will bring something home,” and she filled her apron full. “Now,” said Hansel, “let’s go and get well away from the witch’s wood.” When they had wandered about for some hours they came to a big lake. “We can’t get over,” said Hansel, “I see no bridge of any sort or kind.” “Yes, and there’s no ferry boat either,” answered Gretel. “But look, there swims a white duck. If I ask her she’ll help us over,” and she called out, “Here are two children, mournful very, seeing neither bridge nor ferry; take us upon your white back, and row us over, quack, quack!” The duck swam towards them, and Hansel got on her back and bade his little sister sit beside him. “No,” answered Gretel, “we should be too heavy a load for the duck. She shall carry us across separately.” The good bird did this, and when they were landed safely on the other side, and had gone for a while, the wood became more and more familiar to them, and at length they saw their father’s house in the distance. Then they set off to run, and bounding into the room fell on their father’s neck. The man had not passed a happy hour since he left them in the wood, and the woman had died. Gretel shook out her apron so that the pearls and precious stones rolled about the room, and Hansel threw down one handful after the other out of his pocket. Thus all their troubles were ended, and they lived happily ever afterwards. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn82.txt b/text/sn82.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..61255ac24a46c874f7724592285792b818684433 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn82.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +A fisherman catches a golden fish. When the fish announces that he is a prince under an evil spell, the fisherman throws him back into the sea. On his return to his hovel, his wife tells him that he should have asked the magical creature to grant him a wish, and so the fisherman returns to the sea to call out to the fish and ask that the lives of the impoverished couple should be transformed - but the better life that ensues is not quite enough for them.', "This story of over-reaching greed and ambition is known well in many countries including Germany and Russia, but not so much in the English speaking world. It's told with the Brothers Grimm's usual insight into human frailty.", '"Oh, ho!" Said the man. "You need not go on much more about the matter. I will have nothing to do with a fish that can talk, so swim away, sir, as soon as you please!" Then he put him back into the water, and the fish darted straight down to the bottom, and left a long streak of blood behind him on the wave. When the fisherman went home to his wife in the pigsty, he told her how he had caught a golden fish, and how it had told him it was an enchanted prince, and how, on hearing it speak, he had let it go again. "Did not you ask it for anything?" Said the wife. "We live very wretchedly here, in this nasty dirty pigsty. Do go back and tell the fish we want a snug little cottage." The fisherman did not much like the business - however, he went to the seashore, and when he got back there the water looked all yellow and green. He stood at the water’s edge, and said, Then the fish came swimming to him and said, "Well, what is her will? What does your wife want?" "Ah!" Said the fisherman. "She says that when I caught you, I ought to have asked you for something before I let you go. She does not like living any longer in the pigsty, and wants a snug little cottage." "Go home then," said the fish, "she is in the cottage already!" So the man went home, and saw his wife standing at the door of a nice trim little cottage. "Come in, come in!" Said she. "Is not this much better than the filthy pigsty we had?" There was a parlour, a bedroom, and a kitchen; and behind the cottage there was a little garden, planted with all sorts of flowers and fruits. There was a courtyard behind, full of ducks and chickens. "Ah!" Said the fisherman, "How happily we shall live now!" "We will try to do so, at least," said his wife. Everything went right for a week or two, and then Dame Ilsabill said, "Husband, there is not nearly room enough for us in this cottage; the courtyard and the garden are a great deal too small. I should like to have a large stone castle to live in. Go to the fish again and tell him to give us a castle." "Wife," said the fisherman, "I don’t like to go to him again, for perhaps he will be angry; we ought to be easy with this pretty cottage to live in." "Nonsense!" Said the wife. "He will do it very willingly, I know. Go along and try!" The fisherman went, but his heart was very heavy: and when he came to the sea, it looked blue and gloomy, though it was very calm. He went close to the edge of the waves, and said, "Well, what does she want now?" said the fish. "Ah!" Said the man, dolefully. "My wife wants to live in a stone castle." "Go home then," said the fish, "she is standing at the gate of it already." So away went the fisherman, and found his wife standing before the gate of a great castle. "See," said she, "is not this grand?" With that they went into the castle together, and found a great many servants there, and the rooms all richly furnished, and full of golden chairs and tables. Behind the castle was a garden, and around it was a park half a mile long, full of sheep, goats, hares, and deer; and in the courtyard were stables and cow houses. "Well," said the man, "now we will live cheerful and happy in this beautiful castle for the rest of our lives." "Perhaps we may," said the wife, "but let us sleep upon it, before we make up our minds to that." So they went to bed.The next morning when Dame Ilsabill awoke it was broad daylight, and she jogged the fisherman with her elbow, and said, "Get up, husband, and bestir yourself, for we must be king of all the land." "Wife, wife," said the man, "why should we wish to be the king? I will not be king." "Then I will," said she. "But wife," said the fisherman, "how can you be king? The fish cannot make you a king?" "Husband," said she, "say no more about it, but go and try! I will be king." So the man went away quite sorrowful to think that his wife should want to be king. This time the sea looked a dark grey colour, and was overspread with curling waves and the ridges of foam as he cried out, "Well, what would she have now?" Said the fish. "Alas!" Said the poor man. "My wife wants to be king." "Go home," said the fish, "she is king already." "Yes," said she, "I am king." And when he had looked at her for a long time, he said, "Ah, wife! what a fine thing it is to be king! Now we shall never have anything more to wish for as long as we live." "I don’t know how that may be," said she. "Never is a long time. I am king, it is true; but I begin to be tired of that, and I think I should like to be emperor." "Alas, wife! Why should you wish to be emperor?" Said the fisherman. "Husband," said she, "go to the fish! I say I will be emperor." "Ah, wife!" Replied the fisherman. "The fish cannot make an emperor, I am sure, and I should not like to ask him for such a thing." "I am king," said Ilsabill, "and you are my slave - so go at once!" So the fisherman was forced to go; and he muttered as he went along, "This will come to no good, it is too much to ask; the fish will be tired at last, and then we shall be sorry for what we have done." He soon came to the seashore; and the water was quite black and muddy, and a mighty whirlwind blew over the waves and rolled them about, but he went as near as he could to the water’s brink, and said, "What would she have now?" Said the fish. "Ah!" Said the fisherman, "she wants to be emperor." "Yes," said she, "I am emperor." "Ah!" Said the man, as he gazed upon her. "What a fine thing it is to be emperor!" "Husband," said she, "why should we stop at being emperor? I will be pope next." "O wife, wife!" Said he, "How can you be pope? There is but one pope at a time in Christendom." "Husband," said she, "I will be pope this very day." "But," replied the husband, "the fish cannot make you pope." "What does she want now?" said the fish. "Ah!" Said the fisherman. "My wife wants to be pope." "Go home," said the fish; "she is pope already." Then the fisherman went home, and found Ilsabill sitting on a throne that was two miles high. She had three great crowns on her head, and around her stood all the pomp and power of the church. On each side of her were two rows of burning lights of all sizes; the greatest as large as the highest and biggest tower in the world, and the least no larger than a small rush light. "Wife," said the fisherman, as he looked at all this greatness, "are you pope?" "Yes," said she, "I am pope." "Well, wife," replied he, "it is a grand thing to be pope; and now you must be easy, for you can be nothing greater." "I will think about that," said the wife. Then they went to bed, but Dame Ilsabill could not sleep all night for thinking what she should be next. At last, as she was dropping asleep, morning broke, and the sun rose. "Ha!" Thought she, as she woke up and looked at it through the window. "After all I cannot prevent the sun rising." At this thought she was very angry, and wakened her husband, and said, "Husband, go to the fish and tell him I must be lord of the sun and moon." The fisherman was half asleep, but the thought frightened him so much that he started and fell out of bed. "Alas, wife! Cannot you be easy with being pope?" "No," said she, "I am very uneasy as long as the sun and moon rise without my permission. Go to the fish at once!" Then the man went shivering with fear, and as he was going down to the shore a dreadful storm arose, so that the trees and the very rocks shook. All the heavens became black with stormy clouds, and the lightning played, and the thunders rolled. You might have seen in the sea great black waves, swelling up like mountains with crowns of white foam upon their heads. The fisherman crept towards the sea, and cried out, as well as he could, "What does she want now?" Said the fish. "Ah!" Said he. "She wants to be lord of the sun and moon." "Go home," said the fish, "to your pigsty again." And there they live to this very day. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn83.txt b/text/sn83.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2c48ce70c5a5d80ba7abee90773a4270c265ae87 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn83.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +This is a short and very sweet story about a Christmas gift. In fact it’s one of the very few traditional fairy tales with a Christmas theme. A poor shoemaker receives some unexpected help just when he needs it most. When it is close to Christmas he and his wife decided to give a gift in return. By the Brother’s Grimm. Read by Natasha. Duration 6.18 Proofread by Claire Deakin. A shoemaker, by no fault of his own, became so poor that at last he had nothing left but enough leather for one pair of shoes. So in the evening, he cut the leather into the shape of the shoes, and he left his work on the table to finish in the morning. He lay down quietly in his bed, and before he fell asleep he asked God to help him. In the morning, just as he was about to sit down to work, he saw the two shoes standing quite finished on his table. He was astounded, and did not know what to make of it. He took the shoes in his hands to look at them more closely and he saw that they were so neatly made that there was not one bad stitch in them. It was just as if they were intended as a masterpiece. Soon after, a customer came in to the shop, and as the shoes pleased him so well, he paid more than the usual price. Now the shoemaker had enough money to buy leather for two pairs of shoes. That night, he cut out the leather, and the next morning he was about to set to work with fresh hope for the future when he saw that the shoes were already made. There was no shortage of customers who wanted the shoes, and the shoemaker soon had enough to buy leather for four pairs of shoes. The following morning he found the four pairs were made – and so it went on; any leather that he cut out in the evening was finished by the morning. Soon he was no longer poor, and he even became quite rich. Now one evening, not long before Christmas, the man finished cutting out the leather as usual. This time he said to his wife: “Let’s stay up tonight to see who it is that lends us this helping hand?” The woman liked the idea, and lighted a candle. Then they hid themselves in a corner of the room behind some clothes which were hanging up there, and watched. When it was midnight, two little elves came into the room, both without any clothes on, and sat down by the shoemaker’s table. They took all the work which was cut out before them and began to stitch, sew, and hammer so skillfully and so quickly with their little fingers that the shoemaker could not turn away his eyes for astonishment. They did not stop until all was done and stood finished on the table, and then they ran quickly away. The next morning the woman said: “The little men have made us rich, and we really must show that we are grateful for it. They run about so, but have nothing on, and must be cold. I’ll tell you what I’ll do: I will make them little shirts, coats, vests, and trousers, and knit both of them a pair of stockings. You can help too – make them two little pairs of shoes.” The man said: “I shall be very glad to do it.” One night, when everything was ready, they laid their presents altogether on the table instead of the cut out work. Then they hid themselves to see what the little men would do. At midnight they came bounding in, wanting to get to work at once, but as they did not find any leather cut out, but only the pretty little articles of clothing, they were at first puzzled – and then delighted. They dressed themselves very quickly, putting the pretty clothes on, and singing, They danced and skipped and leaped over chairs and benches. At last they danced out of the doors. From that time on they came no more, but as long as the shoemaker lived, all went well with him, and all his business prospered. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn84.txt b/text/sn84.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..1a85c70e0b6a7c637d658e9e5f2e229f5fe46a20 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn84.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the audio of the Golden Goose But if you are expecting this goose to lay a golden egg, please don’t be disappointed. It’s value, according to the Brothers Grimm, is in its golden feathers. Read by Natasha. Duration 14.56. Proofread by Claire Deakin & Jana Elizabeth. One day the eldest son wanted to go to the forest to cut wood. The mother praised him for being such a useful boy, and before he set out she gave him some of her best fruit cake for his lunch, and a bottle of wine to wash it down. While the boy was walking through the forest, he met a little grey old man who said to him: “Do give me a little piece of your cake and a swig of your wine. I’m so terribly hungry and thirsty.” And the eldest son replied: “Be off with you, you filthy old beggar.” The little grey old man went away, but not without taking his revenge. He put a curse on the boy, so that when he started to cut a tree down, his axe slipped and went into his leg. The boy limped home to his mother who washed his wound and bandaged him. The next day, the second eldest son went out to the forest to cut wood. Before he set out, his mother praised him for being such a useful boy, but especially asked him to be careful with the axe, so as not to have a nasty accident like his brother. The boy promised not to be careless, and his mother gave him some of her best sponge cake for his lunch, and a bottle of wine to wash it down. It happened that as the boy was walking through the woods, he came across the same little grey old man. The man said to him: “Do please share your sponge cake and your wine with me, for I am so terribly weak with hunger and thirst.” The boy said: “Be off with you, you lazy old scoundrel. If you want to eat, you’d better work.” The little grey old man went away, but not without taking his revenge. Not long after, when the boy was cutting down a tree, his axe flew out of his hand and hit him on the head. He crawled home to his mother who bandaged up his wound and asked him why he had not kept his promise to be more careful. For the rest of the week, the two eldest sons were both lying in bed recovering from their wounds. The father said to the third and youngest son: “Get on your feet, you lazy Dummy. Why are you sitting around doing nothing, when both brothers are hurt and unable to work? Get out to the forest and cut some wood – if you’re not too stupid to do that.” The mother laughed at him and said: “It’s more than likely that Dummy will cut his own head off – but it won’t be much of a loss to anyone.” Before he left she gave him some cake that she had burned almost to a crust in the oven, and a bottle of sour beer to wash it down. As the youngest boy was going through the woods, he met the same little grey old man who had crossed the path of his brothers. The man said to him:“Do please share some of your cake and beer with me. I am so terribly hungry and thirsty, and I fear that if I don’t have something to eat and drink soon, I will surely die” The young boy replied: “Old man, I will gladly share with you what I have – but the cake is burnt and the beer is sour.” “Never mind that,” said the man. “I am grateful for what you can give me.” The boy and the little grey old man sat down and shared the cake and the beer. After they had finished their lunch, the man said: “Since you have a good heart, and have shared what you have with me, I will give you a reward. You see that old tree over there. Cut it down with your axe and you will find something of value inside its hollow trunk.” So when the little grey old man had left, the young boy, whose parents called him “Dummy”, took his axe and cut down the hollow tree just as he had been told. Inside he found a goose – but this was no ordinary bird, for its feathers were made of gold. The boy realised that he was in luck, and thought to himself: “Why should I go home now and suffer the insults of my parents and brothers? They will take this valuable bird from me, and I shall have nothing.” So the boy decided to run away from home. He put the golden goose under his arm and set out for the town. Then he went to the inn, intending to stay there. He stood at the bar and asked the innkeeper if he would accept a golden feather as payment for his board and lodgings. When the innkeeper saw the golden goose, he readily agreed. After the boy had gone to bed he said to his three daughters: “That young boy whose parents call Dummy is staying up in our guest room. But he can’t be as simple in the head as they say – for he’s got a valuable bird with him – a goose with feathers made of gold.” The eldest daughter thought to herself: “Well fancy that; feathers made of gold. I’ll pluck one or maybe more of those for myself.” After the clock struck midnight, she sneaked into the boy’s room, and saw that he was asleep with his arm around the golden goose. She crept up and tried to pluck a feather, but the feather wouldn’t budge, and when she tried to take her hand away, she found that she was stuck to it. She couldn’t move, and she couldn’t cry out for fear of waking the boy. She had to stay where she was – on her knees by the bed, with her hand on the feather. After the clock struck one in the morning, the second sister came in the room, planning to take one feather or more for herself. In the dark she didn’t see her sister, but as soon as she touched her back, she found that her hand was stuck fast to her, and she had to stay where she was, not moving and not making a sound. After the clock struck two in the morning, the third sister came in. The other two shouted: “Stay back!” But it was too late – she reached out hoping to steal a feather and found that her hand was stuck to the middle sister. The boy and the goose slept soundly through all of this. In the morning the boy got up, paid his bill with a golden feather, and left the inn with the goose under his arm. The sisters had no choice but to follow on behind him. What a pretty procession they made! Along the way they met the bishop: “What a sight!” He exclaimed. “It’s hardly right for three young women to follow a boy around like that!” As the girls went past he tapped the youngest on the shoulder. In doing so he found that he was stuck to her and had to follow. Further up the road they met a police sergeant. The bishop called out to him: “Sergeant. Help me get free from this young woman’s shoulder. I’m stuck to her and people are bound to start all kinds of gossip about it!” The police sergeant tried to pull the bishop free, but in doing so he found that both his hands were stuck to his waist, and he had to follow along with the procession. At the top of the road they met the mayor. “What’s this town coming to?” Cried the mayor. “The bishop and the police sergeant are following three young girls who are following a young boy; all holding on to each other in a most unseemly fashion. Have they gone mad?” As he spoke, he tried to pull the police sergeant and the bishop away – but in doing so he found that he was stuck to both of them, and had to follow on. The boy led the little line of the townspeople along up the road, and at the top of the hill they passed the King’s palace. Now the King’s daughter was very beautiful, but she had the saddest face in the whole wide world. She had never laughed and not once even smiled. The King was so troubled by the young princess’ unhappiness, that he had made a special law: Whosoever could make her laugh and smile would win her hand in marriage. But the truth was that nothing very funny ever happened inside the royal palace. All the King’s servants and advisers were far too high and mighty to understand what would make a young girl laugh – or indeed to allow anything amusing to happen at all. As the boy, known as Dummy, went past the palace, he still held the golden goose under his arm; and he was followed by the innkeeper’s three daughters, the bishop, the police sergeant, and the mayor. The princess looked out and saw the important people in their uniforms being tugged along behind three girls and a boy with a goose. She thought that it was the first thing she had seen in her life that was truly funny. She burst out laughing and ran, still giggling, to her father to tell him all about what she had seen. When the King looked out of his window and saw the procession, he couldn’t help laughing himself. He sent for his guards and told them to bring the boy and his followers directly to him. When the boy entered the King’s chamber, with the followers behind him; the mayor, the bishop and the policeman all called out angrily that he should pay for his crime with his head. The king, still laughing, said that on the contrary – he would be rewarded with the hand in marriage of his daughter, the princess. For an entire week after that, the innkeeper’s three daughters, the bishop, the policeman, and the mayor were all stuck to the golden goose and to one another. While they were stuck, all the townspeople and the whole court laughed and laughed at them. The boy whose family called him Dummy married the princess and inherited the kingdom. He lived with his beautiful wife and they had six happy smiling children, and the palace was often filled with laughter. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn85.txt b/text/sn85.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..59587cf04f77cb3634419f6be063a3204ad3be67 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn85.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The town musicians of Bremen are a donkey, a cockerel (rooster), a dog and a cat. This amusing story by the Brothers Grimm is about four farm animals who are convinced they can earn a good living as musicians. Indeed they do, but it isn’t really the sweetness of their barking, braying, mewing, and cockle-doodle-doing, that earns them their supper – it’s more the terror of the sound they make! Theme: respect for our elders. The animals in the story are old, and have put in long years of hard work, but now their owners think they are no use anymore and want to get rid of them - is that fair? A bronze statue of the Town Musicians of Bremen was erected in 1953 in front of the City Hall in Bremen. German veterinary schools also have statues of the animal musicians. Another replica of the statue can be found in the Lynden Sculpture Garden, located in Milwaukee. Bremen is a city in the North of Germany on the River Weser, 37 miles from the North Sea. Die Stadtmusikanten A certain man had a donkey, which had carried the corn sacks to the mill loyally for many a long year; but his strength was going, and he was growing more and more unfit for work. His master began to wonder if it was worth his while by keeping this old donkey much longer. The donkey, seeing that no good wind was blowing, ran away and set out on the road to Bremen. “There,” he thought, “I can surely be town musician.” When he had walked some distance, he found a dog lying on the road, gasping like one who had run until he was tired. “What are you gasping so for, you big fellow?” Asked the donkey. “Ah,” replied the dog, “as I am old, and grow weaker daily; I can no longer hunt. My master wanted to kill me, so I ran away, but now how am I to earn my bread?” “I’ll tell you what,” said the donkey, “I am going to Bremen, and shall be a town musician there; come with me and work also as a musician. I will play the lute, and you shall beat the kettledrum.” The dog agreed, and so on they went. Not before long they came to a cat, sitting on the path with a face like three rainy days! “Now then, old fluff and claws, what has gone so wrong with you?” Asked the donkey. “Who can be merry when his neck is in danger?” Answered the cat. “Because I am now getting old, my teeth are worn to stumps, and I prefer to sit by the fire and spin, rather than hunt about after mice. My mistress wanted to drown me, so I ran away. Now good advice is scarce. Where am I to go?” “Go with us to Bremen. You understand night music so you can be a town musician.” The cat thought well of it and decided to go with them. After this the three runaways came to a farmyard, where the cockerel was sitting upon the gate, cock-a-doodle-doing with all his might. “Your cock-a-doodle-do goes through and through my skull,” said the donkey. “What is the matter?” “Guests are coming on Sunday and the housewife has no pity,” said the cockerel, “and has told the cook that she intends to eat me in the soup tomorrow, and this evening I am to have my head cut off. Now I am cock-a-doodle-doing at full pitch while I can.” “Ah you red-headed bird,” said the donkey, “you had better come away with us. We are going to Bremen; you can find something better than death everywhere. You have a good voice, and if we make music together it must have some quality!” The cockerel agreed to this plan, and all four went on together. They could not, however, reach the city of Bremen in one day, and in the evening they came to a forest where they meant to pass the night. The donkey and the dog laid themselves down under a large tree, the cat and cockerel settled themselves in the branches – but the cockerel flew right to the top, where he was most safe. Before he went to sleep, he called out to his companions that there must be a house not far off, for he saw a light. The donkey said: “If so, we had better get up and go on, for the shelter here is bad.” The dog thought that a few bones with some meat on would do him good too! So they moved further on, and soon saw the light shine brighter and grow larger, until they came to a well lit robber’s house. The donkey, as the biggest, went to the window and looked in: “What do you see, my grey horse?” Asked the cockerel. “What do I see?” Answered the donkey. “A table covered with good things to eat and drink, and robbers sitting at it enjoying themselves.” “That would be just the sort of thing for us,” said the cockerel. “Yes, yes. Ah, how I wish we were there!” Said the donkey. Then the animals put their heads together and schemed how to best win an invitation to come inside and join the robbers at the table. “Come, come my friends,” said the donkey. “We are musicians, so let us sing for our supper.” They began to perform their music together: The donkey brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and the cockerel cock-a-doodle-do’ed. Then they burst through the window into the room, so that the glass clattered! At this horrible din, the robbers sprang up, thinking no otherwise than a ghost had come in, and they fled in a great fright out into the forest. The four companions now sat down at the table, well content with what was left, and ate as if they were going to fast for a month. As soon as the four musicians had done, they put out the light, and each found a sleeping place according to his nature and to what suited him. The donkey laid himself down upon some straw in the yard, the dog behind the door, the cat upon the hearth near the warm ashes, and the cockerel perched himself upon a beam of the roof; and being tired from their long walk, they soon went to sleep. When it was past midnight, the robbers saw from afar that the light was no longer burning in their house. Appearing quiet, the captain said: “We ought not to have let ourselves be frightened out of our wits,” and ordered one of them to go and examine the house. The messenger finding all was still, went into the kitchen to light a candle, and taking the glistening fiery eyes of the cat for burning coals, he held the candle to them to light it. The cat did not understand what he meant to do, however, and flew in his face, spitting and scratching. He was dreadfully frightened, and ran to the back door, but the dog, who lay there sprang up and bit his leg. As he ran across the yard by the straw heap, the donkey gave him a smart kick with its hind foot. The cockerel too, who had been awakened by the noise, had become lively, and cried down from the beam, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Then the robber ran back as fast as he could to his captain and said: Ah, there is a horrible witch sitting in the house, who spat on me and scratched my face with her long claws; and by the door stands a man with a knife who stabbed me in the leg, and in the yard there lies a monster who beat me with a wooden club. Above, upon the roof, sits the judge, who called out: “Bring the rogue here to me!” So I got away as well as I could.” After this the robbers did not trust themselves in the house again; but it suited the four musicians of Bremen so well that they did not care to leave it anymore. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn86.txt b/text/sn86.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..44ab9796b74719fc121ab2ae5bc7766cdf068a90 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn86.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Picture by Bertie - a retake of the classic illustration by Walter Crane. Once upon a time there were three bears, who lived together in a house of their own in a wood. One of them was a little, small wee bear; one was a middle-sized bear, and the other was a great, huge bear. One day, after they had made porridge for their breakfast, they walked out into the wood while the porridge was cooling. And while they were walking, a little girl came into the house. This little girl had golden curls that tumbled down her back to her waist, and everyone called her by Goldilocks. Goldilocks went inside. First she tasted the porridge of the great, huge bear, and that was far too hot for her. And then she tasted the porridge of the middle bear, and that was too cold for her. And then she went to the porridge of the little, small wee bear, and tasted that. And that was neither too hot nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it all up. Then Goldilocks went upstairs into the bed chamber and first she lay down upon the bed of the great, huge bear, and then she lay down upon the bed of the middle bear and finally she lay down upon the bed of the little, small wee bear, and that was just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there until she fell fast asleep. By this time, the three bears thought their porridge would be cool enough, so they came home to breakfast. “SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!” said the great huge bear, in his great huge voice. “Somebody has been at my porridge!” said the middle bear, in his middle voice. Then the little, small wee bear looked at his, and there was the spoon in the porridge pot, but the porridge was all gone. “Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all up!” said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small wee voice. Then the three bears went upstairs into their bedroom. “SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!” said the great, huge bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. “Somebody has been lying in my bed!” said the middle bear, in his middle voice. And when the little, small, wee bear came to look at his bed, upon the pillow there was a pool of golden curls, and the angelic face of a little girl snoring away, fast asleep. “Somebody has been lying in my bed, and here she is!” Said the little, small wee bear, in his little, small wee voice. Goldilocks jumped off the bed and ran downstairs, out of the door and down the garden path. She ran and she ran until she reached the house of her grandmama. When she told her grandmama about the house of the three bears who lived in the wood, her granny said: “My my, what a wild imagination you have, child!” (Updated with shorter version September, 13, 2016). \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn87.txt b/text/sn87.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..6707a4a54cd37c1d4e6087c7ef54fcc88f013892 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn87.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The tale of Androcles and the Lion is said to have been written by Aesop – the great Greek storyteller who always summed up his stories from the animal kingdom with a moral. In the case of Androcles, the lesson is that “Gratitude is the sign of a noble soul!” Read by Natasha. Duration 6 minutes 5 seconds Proofread by Claire Deakin. It happened in ancient times that a slave named Androcles escaped from his master and fled into the forest, and he wandered there for a long time until he was weary. Just then he heard a lion near him moaning and groaning and at times roaring terribly. And when he tried to get up, there he saw the lion coming towards him. Instead of attacking him it kept on moaning and groaning and looking at Androcles, who saw that the lion was holding out his right paw, which was covered with blood and very much swollen. Looking more closely at it, Androcles saw a great big thorn pressed into the paw, which was the cause of all the lion’s trouble. Plucking up courage, he seized hold of the thorn and drew it out of the lion’s paw, who roared with pain when the thorn came out, but soon after found such relief from it that he rubbed up against Androcles, and showed that he knew, that he was truly thankful for being relieved from such pain. One day, a number of soldiers came marching through the forest and found Androcles. They took him prisoner and brought him back to the town, and he was condemned to death because he had fled from his master. Now it used to be the custom to throw murderers and other criminals to the lions, and on the appointed day he was led forth into the arena. The Emperor of Rome was in the royal box that day and gave the signal for the lion to come out and attack Androcles. But when it came out of its cage and got near Androcles, what do you think it did? Instead of jumping upon him, it rubbed up against him, and stroked him with its paw. It was of course the lion which Androcles had met in the forest. The Emperor summoned Androcles to him. So Androcles told the Emperor all that had happened to him and how the lion was showing gratitude for his having relieved it of the thorn. Thereupon, the emperor pardoned Androcles and ordered his master to set him free, while the lion was taken back into the forest and let loose to enjoy freedom once more. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn88.txt b/text/sn88.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7924fb043234e22b9a1fef53ac197ab52c20a553 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn88.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Read by Natasha. Duration 3:18 Once upon a time there lived a little country girl, the prettiest creature who was ever seen. Her mother had a little red riding hood made for her. Everybody called her Little Red Riding Hood. One day her mother said to her: “Go my dear, and see how your grandmother is doing, for I hear she has been very ill.” Little Red Riding Hood set out immediately. As she was going through the wood, she met with a wolf. He asked her where she was going. “I am going to see my grandmother.” “Does she live far off?” said the wolf. “It is beyond that mill you see there”. It was not long before the wolf arrived at the old woman’s house. He knocked at the door. Tap, tap, tap. “Who’s there?” “Your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood,” replied the wolf, faking her voice. The good grandmother called out, “Pull the string, and the latch will go up.” The wolf pulled the string and the door opened, and then he immediately fell upon the good woman and ate her up in a moment. He then shut the door and got into the grandmother’s bed, expecting Little Red Riding Hood, who came some time afterwards and knocked at the door. Tap, tap, tap. “Who’s there?” “It is your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood.” The wolf cried out, “Pull the string, and the latch will go up.” Little Red Riding Hood pulled the string, and the door opened. “Grandmother, what big arms you have!” “All the better to hug you with, my dear.” “Grandmother, what big ears you have!” “All the better to hear you with, my child.” “Grandmother, what big eyes you have!” “All the better to see you with, my child.” “Grandmother, what big teeth you have got!” “All the better to eat you up with.” Fortunately, a hunter was passing near by the hut. He heard the wolf, and recognised him right away. He ran over to the window. He took a good aim, and that was the end of the wolf. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn89.txt b/text/sn89.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..625af0f8ed2e5aeb428162f46284bddae1b452cb --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn89.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +I’m an artist, and as everyone knows, artists are usually rather poor. Normally, I don’t mind about that. When the sun is shining, I sit on my favourite blade of grass and play music for everyone to listen to. I have lots of friends, and together we’ve formed an orchestra. Everyone loves our music and says how cheerful it makes them feel – well almost everyone. There’s a family of ants who never stop to listen. They take themselves far too seriously for music or enjoyment. All they do is work, work, work – even when the sun is shining. “Hey You Ants,” I said to them. “It’s a lovely summer’s day. Why don’t you rest your feet for a while, and listen to my sweet music?” “No time to stop,” one of them said, panting away. “We’re far too busy stocking up food for winter.” The months went by, and the days got shorter and colder. I was shivering so much that I couldn’t even sing. A hard frost was on the ground, and there wasn’t a crumb to eat. I was so hungry! So I went to see that busy family of ants and said: “Please Sirs, I’m a poor starving musician. Spare me a few crumbs from your store of food.” Do you know what? Those ants just turned their noses up at me. They were so stingy that they wouldn’t share any of their food. Oh well, I’ll just have to go hungry this winter. In the New Year, I’ll make a resolution. When the times are good, I’ll remember to save some food for a rainy day. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn9.txt b/text/sn9.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..a82e41a20b173a81ddd88615bf0a369558e50d4c --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn9.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Katie’s Revenge is a little darker and deeper than most of our Katie stories, and it has a moral dilemma for you to contemplate. Katie and the Witch’s Swap is rather lighter and more cheerful – and is one of our top favourite stories … so don’t miss it. Story by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Duration 18.34. Katie and her best friend Isis were really not at all like each other in so many ways. Isis was neat and tidy and Katie was rather messy. Isis was sporty, and liked swimming and gymnastics, and Katie liked reading books and drawing pictures. Isis was pretty and popular, and Katie looked a bit out-of-the ordinary, and lots of people thought she was weird because they had heard that her mother was a witch. But Isis had friends who didn’t like Katie, and Katie had friends who didn’t like Isis. Take Samantha for example. She was one of the most fashion-conscientious and trendy girls in class – and so naturally, she was friends with Isis. But she hated Katie, and she began to get annoyed with Isis for spending so much time with the strangest girl in school. In fact, she felt quite insulted really. Why did Isis sit next to Katie and not her at lunchtime? Why did Isis say that she couldn’t come over to Samantha’s house because she was going to the cinema with Katie and her mother who was a witch? She decided that she didn’t like Isis anymore. She decided that Isis needed to be taken down a peg or two, because she had bad taste in her friends. And she also decided that, if anybody asked, who was the most popular, brainy, and best dressed girl in school, people shouldn’t point to Isis, but to Samantha. But Isis didn’t even have an inkling that her friend was thinking any of this – not yet at any rate. So as they were leaving school one Friday, she said to Samantha: “Why do we have to read such boring books for English? I’m going to spend all Sunday afternoon ploughing through chapter 9 of The Adventurous Six and it’s so dull that I will keep falling asleep and it will take simply ages to finish.” And Samantha, seeing an opportunity to make mischief, said: “Oh I already read chapter 9, so don’t bother reading it, because I’ll tell you what happened.” As bad luck would have it, on Monday Miss Vile asked Isis to stand up in front of the class and summarise chapter 9. As Isis hadn’t actually read it, she felt a bit put on the spot, but she glanced at Samantha who gave her the thumbs up. She launched into what her friend had told her to say: “This was a very exciting chapter in which the heroine, Jemima, was kidnapped by robbers onthe way to school, and her dad had to pay one million dollars to get her back. I liked this chapter because it was full of suspense and intrigue.” The teacher glared and said, “Isis – Did you read chapter 9 at the weekend?” “No Miss Vile,”admitted Isis with her eyes downcast. “Then why did you just make up that perfect load of old nonsense?” “I don’t know Miss Vile,” said Isis, covered in shame. “You don’t know…… Well I know that you can stay in on Friday evening and do detention while you read Chapters 9 and 10,” said Miss Vile.“ And you can write out a detailed summary for me of both chapters.” Isis sat down at her desk and fumed at Samantha. Later, when she had asked her why she had tricked her, she just said, “Well it’s your fault for being too lazy toread the book,” and all Isis could do was to gnash her perfect pearly teeth. So when she got home, she rang her real best friend: “Katie, help me get my revenge on Samantha,” she said. “Think of the meanest, nastiest, stinkiest magic spell in the book and do it against Samantha with all your might.” But Katie replied: “I’m sorry Isis. I don’t do black magic. My mum will only let me usemy powers for good.” “Alright, well if that’s the way it is,” said Isis, “then, I’ll just have to get my own revenge.” “Remember, two wrongs don’t make a right,” said Katie, but Isis didn’t hear her, because she had already hung up her phone. And now she was really, really angry, not just with Samantha, but with her best friend for not helping her out in her hour of need. But just as she was slipping the book back into the desk, Samantha said: “Isis, what were you doing with my work?” And Isis, who was totally takenaback, said: “Nothing.” And Samantha yelled: “Yes, you were, you were writing in my English book. I just came in now and saw you!” “I wouldn’t touch your smelly English book in case I caught something off it,” said Isis. And Isis felt quite afraid about what she might do. She was almost relieved that Miss Vile chose that moment to come into the room, and Samantha had to back off. But then Samantha told Miss Vile what she had seen Isis doing, and her book was taken out and examined, and the teacher spotted theunderlined letters and said: “Isis, was it you who did this?” And Isis said: “Yes, Miss Vile.” And now she was in double detention on Friday, and even worse, Miss Vile wrote a letter to Isis’s mum explaining how badly behaved her daughter had been recently, and a warning that she was heading for serious trouble. The first thing Isis noticed about her tie was that it felt greasy. Then, she saw it was all stained and thought that it must be somebody else’s – but it couldn’t have been – because it had her name sewn on the back. She did her best to wash it under thetap, but the stains wouldn’t come out. When she came into class, Tabatha said: “Oooh, look Samantha, Isis is a messy eater.” And Samantha said: “Well that’s hardly surprising, since her best friend is Katie who can’t even tuck her own shirt in.” That evening, Isis rang up Katie in tears and said: “Please Katie, please help me. Miss Vile has got me on her watch-list. My mother thinks I’ve become a problem child. And none of my friends are talking to me. You’ve got to help me. I know that revenge is bad, but I’m not talking about revenge – I’m talking about justice. It can’t be right to let Samantha get away with all these mean tricks. I’ve always stuck up for you. Now you’ve got to stick up for me, or you are no true friend.” And Katie, who really did feel sorry to see her best friend in such trouble, swore that she really was her friend, and that she would do anything she could – but not black magic. “No,” said her mother, “It’s always wrong to use magic to hurt somebody. That’s what gives witches a bad name.” And Katie protested: “But it can’t be right to stand by and watch all these bad things being done to my best friend, can it?” The next morning before school, she saw Isis in the playground. At that moment, Isis was texting her gran, and Katie thought: “I know who has a phone just like that….” And she said to Isis: “I’ve got an idea. I won’t tell you what it is now. Just wait and see. It won’t be long now.” In class, just before break, Katie quietly said the words of a little magic spell that made Miss Vile take her phone out of her bag, put it on her desk, and then leave it there. As soon as everyone else was out of the room, Katie took Miss Vile’s phone and put it on Isis’s desk. Then she went out into the playground and said another little spell to make Samantha go back into the classroom to fetch her woolly hat, because it was winter and it was cold outside. She knew that Samantha would see the phone. She knew she would think it belonged to Isis. And she knew exactly what mean thing she would do. Samantha picked it up and started to text all the names in the phone’s memory with messages like: “I hate you because you are a silly cow.” and: “Your face is an official disaster zone.” and: “I hope you leave soon and don’t come back.” She sent a nasty message to everyone in the address book. She thought they would all seeIsis’s name and number flash up, and assume that it was from her…. and then all her friends would be angry with her. In the staff room, Mr Brain, the maths teacher said: “Violet, did you just send me a text?” And Violet, better known as Miss Vile, said: “No. I think I left my phone in the class room.” And Mr Philpots said: “I just got one too. It says: “Hop off you smelly toad.” And Mrs Jones said: “I think one of the kids has got hold of your phone and is playing a prank.” And of course Miss Vile was back in the classroom in a flash. Samantha was caught red handed with theteacher’s phone in her hand. It didn’t help her case when she said that she had thought it belonged to Isis. It was still one of the meanest tricks that anyone had ever played in school. At lunchtime, Isis could hardly disguise her delight. She held Katie’s hands and said: “So you did do a spell against Samantha….after all. Thank you Thank you. You’re the best friend ever.” And that Friday,while Katie went to tea at Isis’s house, Samantha did a double detention, and Miss Vile sat down to write a very long letter to Samantha’s parents telling them that their daughter must mend her mean ways or else. Dear Listener’s, The character of Isis has to step up to the challenge of making Katie help her in her hour of need by using her magic witch powers effectively against the mean and cruel Samantha. Katie after consulting with her mum, finds a really good way of tricking Samantha by leaving Miss Vile’s phone on the desk, which she knows Samantha will steal, as a result she gets a double detention. I particularly like this chapter as we see the relationship between Katie and her mum evolving as she wisely guides Katie with her mystic witch’s wisdom, that leaves me wondering how Katie’s path to witch-hood will turn out but with her best friend Isis Im sure she’ll find a way. I hope you enjoy listening to it, and of course the previous Katie and The Witch’s Swap story available as a Digital App. There will be more Katie Stories that I look forward to reading and hearing your comments on. So do drop me a line and Ill get back to you. In the mean time this PCR goes out to Emma K, my best friend from school, who know’s all about time keeping and the rules. Bye Bye And hear from you soon N * \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn90.txt b/text/sn90.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..cb4dabf98a7e285c6f0ec549c6631e1b4ae41754 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn90.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ + This charming fable by Aesop is retold here in the voice of a simple country mouse. His uncle tempts him to come to the bright city, but he soon finds that its pleasures come with dangers. Adaptation by Bertie. \nRead by Natasha. Duration 8.43. Proofread by Claire Deakin & Jana Elizabeth. I don’t mind admitting that I’m a simple sort of mouse. I live inside a nice cosy log by the side of a field. My needs are not great. A few sunflower seeds or wheat stalks will do me for a meal. For a special treat, the farmer sometimes leaves me some crumbs of bread and cheese from his lunch. When I am thirsty, I drink from the bubbling stream. I swear that pure cold water is the freshest, most delicious taste in the world. Finer than champagne even – and I don’t just mean that as a boast or a figure of speech. I tried champagne once – so I know what I’m talking about. How did a poor simple country mouse like myself try champagne? Well, I shall tell you. A while back I received a visit from my uncle, the town mouse. Everyone in my family knows that Uncle Town Mouse is very rich and successful, and lives in a big smart house in the city. It was of course an honour that he should come and stay with me for a weekend away from his business. But to tell you the truth, I felt a little bit nervous. What would he make of my humble abode and my simple tastes? Well of course he was very nice and polite. “Charming, simply charming,” he said as I showed him around my log. When I put some crumbs of cheddar cheese before him for his supper he exclaimed: “Just the ticket. Exactly what I wanted. Thank you dear nephew for taking such good care of me!” At night he slept in my spare bed in the hedgerow, and in the morning, when I asked him how he had slept he said: “Splendid, just splendidly. This clear country air of yours is so restful.” In fact, he was so full of praise for my country lifestyle that I asked him if he was planning to retire to the countryside. Uncle Town Mouse laughed, and I felt that I had perhaps said something silly or tactless. “My dear nephew,” he said. “The countryside is all very well for a rest. But the town is the place to live if you appreciate gourmet food, fine wine, and, by the way, the most stylish and elegant lady-mice. Why, I thank you for your hospitality, but I would die of boredom if I lived your life for more than a weekend.” I was very impressed by my uncle’s words, and I could not stop thinking about the attractions of the city that he had described. That evening, as he was preparing to leave for home, my uncle said: “Say nephew, why don’t you come back with me and give your taste buds a real treat. I say – a mouse hasn’t lived until he’s tried gorgonzola cheese – and we always keep a good supply in our larder, not to mention the Ardennes pâté, avocado pears with French dressing, chicken vol-au-vents, mushrooms a la grecque, and grilled Mediterranean vegetables. Come, come. We’ll have a feast; and afterwards we’ll call on some pretty friends of mine.” When he put it like that, I couldn’t resist – and so that very evening I travelled with my uncle to his house in the city. When I first set eyes on Uncle’s house, I was truly impressed. It was four storeys high with white stucco pillars and cast iron railings. Inside it was no less magnificent. Crystal chandeliers sparkled over antique furniture and polished oak floors. Uncle took me directly to the pantry, where the remains of a magnificent banquet were laid on the table. Uncle insisted that we begin with an aperitif of champagne – and as I had never tried it before, the bubbles went straight to my head. I dived into a custard tart and came out all sticky and yellow. Uncle sat up and his nose twitched: “Oh, what a lucky mouse you are!” He exclaimed. “I can smell Truffles!” He led me to the other side of the table where we tried some black food that he said was known to be the most delicious in the world. I didn’t like to admit that it tasted a little strange to me. But then we tried the gorgonzola cheese. Oh my Goodness! Uncle had been right. I hadn’t lived until I tried that wonderful cheese. I didn’t like to be vulgar, but I gobbled up a large chunk in a flash. I was still stuffing myself when I saw a shadow move in the corner, so I dived for cover. It probably wasn’t polite to shoot off like that in mid-mouthful, but the reflex action saved my life, for the very next moment a terrible cat pounced on where I had been sitting and eating my fill. Uncle and I scurried across the table and the cat followed, smashing glasses and knocking over jugs and vases. We both jumped off the edge of the table and landed on the ground, but then the maid came in with a broom and was beating the floor with a broom, trying to squash us both. We made it to a hole in the skirting board – but only just. We were both within half an inch of being beaten to death! “Wow that was a close shave!” said Uncle. “Exciting or what?” My heart was pounding and I had to regain my breath before I could say: “Yes, a little too exciting for a poor country mouse I’m afraid. I thank you for your hospitality, but I must be off home now.” And that’s the story of how I learned that other people’s lives are rarely quite as attractive as they sometimes make them appear to be. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn91.txt b/text/sn91.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..9cbf8906a43c3a763d8dbe3feb3352a74db9dc25 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn91.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +In this Storynory version the boy is now an old man, and he looks back on the joke that went badly wrong and landed him with a reputation for silly pranks. It’s a real shorty – but we hope you will enjoy it – and we think it’s quite moving. When I was a lad, my father used to send me out to the fields each day to watch over his sheep. Hey now! There are worse jobs than sitting out in the fresh air all day, but it was boring work for a lad. I longed to be running around with my friends, playing ball, or making boyish mischief. “Can’t the sheep look after themselves?” I asked my father. “After all, they know how to bleat and munch grass, but there isn’t much else that they do.” Father said it was important work, and most importantly of all, I must keep my eyes peeled for the wolf – in case he came sneaking into the fields and grabbed one of the spring lambs. I couldn’t even go to sleep. I had to sit and keep a sharp look out. After a few weeks of this, I got so bored that I began to wish that the wolf would show up and give me something to do. Then I got thinking to myself: “Let’s liven things up a bit,” I thought. “Let’s play a trick on the villagers.” So I got up and ran as fast as I could into the village shouting at the top of my voice: “Wolf! Wolf! WOOOOOOOOLF!” The villagers grabbed sticks, rolling pins, and pitchforks and came running up to the field to chase away the wolf. But when they got there, all was peaceful. The lambs were frolicking as usual, quite unmolested. I laughed: “Ha ha! Fooled you all!” None of the villagers laughed with me. Some of them grumbled and the blacksmith became quite angry and shouted at me – but he was just a bad sport who couldn’t see the funny side of my joke. A week later I did the same thing again, only this time I put on an even better act. I daubed red paint on my arm, and pretended that the wolf had bitten me. This fooled even the blacksmith, who was on his guard after the last trick I had played. When they all arrived breathless in the field, I again called out: “Ha ha! Fooled you!” This time, quite a few of the villagers were angry with me, and I got quite an ear-wigging from the blacksmith, the teacher, and the iron-monger. When I got home, my father was furious and told me that I had a stupid sense of humour. But I thought it was funny – and so did my friends. About a week after that, I was sitting up on the hill watching my father’s sheep as usual. It was getting on for evening, and the sun was setting behind the forest. I would have to spend the night out there, and oh, how lonely and bored was I. Then all of a sudden the sheep dogs started to bark and the flock was running around and bleating like they had all gone mad. Only they hadn’t; there was a wolf among the sheep and he had seized a lamb. “Wolf! Wolf! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLF!” I called out and I ran into the village to get help. But nobody came. Not one villager. They carried on doing whatever they were doing. Eating supper, drinking ale, or finishing off their work for the day. “Please,” I said to the blacksmith. “This time it’s true. There really is a wolf.” But he just shrugged his shoulders. You see nobody believes a liar, even when he’s speaking the truth… And that’s why you should never cry wolf unless you really mean it. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn92.txt b/text/sn92.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..289c4094141382525d1651abc4200fa3eca3e5a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn92.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Adaptation by Bertie. Read by Natasha. Yes, respect is good. 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. 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.” 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.” 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 of 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. 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. He called to 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. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn93.txt b/text/sn93.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..2a3449ceec8ef0830d2dc0495c9603c4073c4f7e --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn93.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +The Sun is our narrator for these three stories adapted from Aesop’s Fables. He looks down on the Earth and sees all the human folly. He tells us the tale of the Milkmaid whose head is full of dreams. Then he relates the famous story of Juno and the Peacock about a bird who wants magnificent feathers. His last story features himself and the North Wind. As ever, these charming tales by Aesop come with morals for life. Adaptation by Bertie. All day long, I look down on the Earth and I see all the things that go on – all the wisdom, and the folly – but mostly the folly. As for the things that go bump in the night? I don’t see any of those – but I hear all the best gossip from my pretty lady friend, the moon. From my vantage point, I can’t help but see a few juicy stories unfold. I will tell you three of them today, and with the help of the great storyteller, Aesop, I shall give you a moral for each of them. My first tale is of a milkmaid. Only yesterday, I Looked down and caught sight of her – I did not fail to notice how pretty she was. I watched her going along the lane with a pail of milk on her head. I shone brightly for the lovely girl, and my rays set off her blonde hair and made her heart happy. I could see that she was chatting away to nobody but herself. I tuned in my ear and listened to what she was saying. “This lovely creamy milk will give me plenty of butter to churn,” she said. “Yes, I will make the best butter, and I will take it to market. I will get a good price for my butter, and with the money I make, I will buy lots of eggs for hatching. How nice it will be when the yard is full of fine young chicks! Then, when May Day comes I will sell the hens, and with the money I’ll buy a lovely new dress for the fair. All the young men will look at me. They will come and try out their smooth talk on me, but I shall very quickly send them about their business!” She smiled, as she thought of the witty one-liners that she would deliver to all the smooth-talking young men. As she imagined the scene, she tossed her head scornfully. But oh! Down fell the pail – and out spilt the milk onto the ground. The white creamy liquid trickled into the ditch, and with it, the pretty maid’s day dreams – her butter, her profit, her chickens, her eggs, her new dress, and her vain young men – all disappeared into the ground. I looked down on all this and tried not to smile at the poor milkmaid’s misfortune. But I could not help remembering the words of a wise old lady: Don’t count your chickens before they are hatched. It’s a very valuable lesson in life. My next story is about the peacock. He is the most royal of birds – or so he thinks. When I shine down with my bright rays, he loves to open up his feathers to show off all his wonderful colours. How he gleams with emerald gold, purple, and azure! Why, he is shining so, that he considers himself a worthy rival to me! But he was not always so bright and beautiful. Once, long ago, he was just an ordinary, dusty sort of farmyard bird. This bothered him – for in his heart, he longed for greatness. His life abruptly changed when, one day, as he was pecking grass by the lake, he met the goddess Juno. He knew that his chance for transformation had come. “Divine Juno, lovely goddess,” he said. “Why are my feathers so plain and ordinary? I want to be beautiful. I long for everyone to admire me. In fact, I want to be the most indisputably magnificent bird in the world. You are a goddess. You can do this for me in an instant. If you work your will, even the emperor will admire and envy me. I pray, dear goddess – make me magnificent.” Juno looked at the dull and ordinary bird and thought: “How vain and pretentious he is! I will give him what he wants, but I will teach him a lesson.” When the peacock next saw his reflection in the water, he realised that she had granted his wish – for he was beautiful beyond his dreams. His feathered tail was more magnificent than the tapestry that hung behind the emperor’s throne. The other birds gathered round to admire him – and how he strutted up and down like a King! He patronised all the scruffy farmyard birds – the hens, the geese, the ducks, and other such riff-raff! The other birds were not gazing at him, as he thought they should. They were looking up into the sky. He too looked up, and he saw how the powerful, and kingly eagle span out his wings, and soared high into the heavens – so high that he flew up to wish me a good morning through the clouds. Who could doubt that the eagle was the most royal of all the birds? Not the ducks and the geese who squawked in homage to the soaring King. “Pah!” Said the peacock, “I will fly even higher.” He lifted his wings – but they were heavy and weighed down with decorative feathers. Yes, he looked wonderful, but the sly goddess had made him pay a price for his beauty – he could not longer fly. “Hmmm,” I thought, as I looked down. “That peacock is all show.” There’s an important lesson here. It’s not only feathers that make fine birds. Oh yes, there is a good moral in this tale: Don’t harm your strength and your health for the sake of beauty. My last story features a truly radiant character. This, if you will permit me, is a story about myself. I have a rather gusty friend called the North Wind. I was watching in amusement one day how he tormented a man who was walking along the road. He was trying to blow the man’s hat off, and how he huffed and puffed with all his might. But the man was wise to him, and he held his hat firmly down on his head. I laughed: “Ho-ho North Wind. That man’s got one up on you.” “Well I bet you can’t do any better,” hissed the North Wind testily. “I bet I can,” I said – and I shone down with my warmest, most health-giving rays. The man felt gladness as he walked along. He smiled and then he took his hat off to cool his head. “There you see,” I said. “Gentle and kind persuasion win where force and blusters fail.” Audible \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn94.txt b/text/sn94.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..7096b537445a88a7cb8b92d613f8f20a1aaf37bc --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn94.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +By Hans Christian Andersen This little gem of a story by Hans Christian Andersen reveals the ultimate test to find out whether or not a girl is a true princess. It is short, but sweet, and an enduring favourite. The English text is the Andrew Lang version, from his Yellow Fairy book, first published in 1894. There stood a princess outside the gate; but oh! What a sad plight she was in from the rain and the storm! The water was running down from her hair and her dress into the points of her shoes and out at the heels again. Yet she said she was a true princess. "Well, we shall soon find that out!" Thought the old queen. But she said nothing, and went into the sleeping room, took off all the bedclothes, and laid a pea on the bottom of the bed. Then she put twenty mattresses on top of the pea, and twenty eiderdown quilts on the top of the mattresses. This was the bed in which the princess was to sleep. The next morning she was asked how she had slept. "Oh, very badly!" Said the princess. "I scarcely closed my eyes all night! I am sure I don’t know what was in the bed. I laid on something so hard that my whole body is black and blue. It was dreadful!" Now they perceived that she was a true princess, because she had felt the pea through the twenty mattresses and the twenty eiderdown quilts. No one but a true princess could be so sensitive. So the prince married her, for now he knew that at last he had gotten hold of a true princess. The pea was put into the Royal Museum, where it is still to be seen, if no one has stolen it. Now this is a true story. So Bertie says that’s how you tell a real princess. Sadie says she would never sit on a pea, but still Bertie won’t say that she’s a real princess and now she’s in a bit of a huff. I’m sure she will cheer up soon because she likes Bertie really. -- \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn95.txt b/text/sn95.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..e6ab9dae6e396b6a4189ac1011a6236d8a86afed --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn95.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download The Flying Trunk Now his son inherited all this money. He lived very merrily. He went every night to the theatre, made paper kites out of five pound notes, and played ducks and drakes with sovereigns instead of stones. In this way the money was likely to come soon to an end, and so it did. This version is from The Pink Fairy Book of Andrew Lang, 1897. There was once a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved the whole street, and perhaps even a little side street besides, with silver. But he did not do that; for he knew other ways to spend his money. If he spent a shilling he got back a pound, such an excellent businessman was he until he died. Now his son inherited all this money. He lived very merrily. He went every night to the theatre, made paper kites out of five pound notes, and played ducks and drakes with sovereigns instead of stones. In this way the money was likely to come soon to an end - and so it did. At last he had nothing left but four shillings, and he had no clothes except a pair of slippers and an old dressing gown. His friends did not trouble themselves anymore about him; they would not even walk down the street with him. But one of them who was rather good-natured sent him an old trunk with the message, "Pack up!" That was all very well, but he had nothing to pack up, so he got into the trunk himself. It was an enchanted trunk, for as soon as the lock was pressed it could fly. He pressed it, and away he flew in it up the chimney, high into the clouds, further and further away. Whenever the bottom gave a little creak he was in terror lest the trunk should go to pieces, for then he would have turned a dreadful somersault - just think of it! In this way he arrived at the land of the Turks. He hid the trunk in a wood under some dry leaves, and then walked into the town. He could do that quite well, for all the Turks were dressed just as he was - in a dressing gown and slippers. He met a nurse with a little child. "Halloa, you Turkish nurse," said he. "What is that great castle there close to the town? The one with the windows so high up." "The sultan’s daughter lives there," she replied. "It is prophesied that she will be very unlucky in her husband, and so no one is allowed to see her except when the sultan and sultana are by." "Thank you," said the merchant’s son, and he went into the wood, sat himself in his trunk, flew on to the roof, and crept through the window into the princess’ room. She was lying on the sofa asleep, and was so beautiful that the young merchant had to kiss her. She woke up and was very much frightened, but he said he was a Turkish god who had come through the air to see her, and that pleased her very much. They sat close to each other, and he told her a story about her eyes. They were beautiful dark lakes in which her thoughts swam about like mermaids. Her forehead was a snowy mountain, grand and shining. These were lovely stories. Then he asked the princess to marry him, and she said yes at once. "But you must come here on Saturday," she said, "for then the sultan and the sultana are coming to tea with me. They will be indeed proud that I receive the god of the Turks. But mind you have a really good story ready, for my parents like them immensely. My mother likes something rather moral and high-flown, and my father likes something merry to make him laugh." "Yes, I shall only bring a fairy story for my dowry," said he, and so they parted. The princess gave him a sabre set with gold pieces which he could use. Then he flew away, bought himself a new dressing gown, and sat down in the wood and began to make up a story, for it had to be ready by Saturday, and that was no easy matter. When he had it ready it was Saturday. The sultan, the sultana, and the whole court were at tea with the princess. He was most graciously received. "Will you tell us a story?" Said the sultana. "One that is thoughtful and instructive?" "But something that we can laugh at," said the sultan. "Oh, certainly," he replied, and began, "Now, listen attentively. There was once a box of matches which lay between a tinderbox and an old iron pot, and they told the story of their youth..." "We used to be on the green fir-boughs. Every morning and evening we had diamond tea, which was the dew, and the whole day long we had sunshine, and the little birds used to tell us stories. We were very rich, because the other trees only dressed in summer, but we had green dresses in summer and in winter. Then the woodcutter came, and our family was split up. We have now the task of making light for the lowest people. That is why we grand people are in the kitchen.” "My fate was quite different," said the iron pot, near which the matches lay. "Since I came into the world I have been many times scoured, and have cooked much. My only pleasure is to have a good chat with my companions when I am lying nice and clean in my place after dinner." "Now you are talking too fast," spluttered the fire. "Yes, let us decide who is the grandest!" Said the matches. "No, I don’t like talking about myself," said the pot. "Let us arrange an evening’s entertainment. I will tell the story of my life. On the Baltic by the Danish shore..." "What a beautiful beginning!" Said all the plates. “That’s a story that will please us all.” And the end was just as good as the beginning. All the plates clattered for joy. "Now I will dance," said the tongs, and she danced. Oh! how high she could kick! The old chair cover in the corner split when he saw her. The urn would have sung but she said she had a cold; she could not sing unless she boiled. In the window was an old quill pen. There was nothing remarkable about her except that she had been dipped too deeply into the ink. But she was very proud of that. "If the urn will not sing," said she, "outside the door hangs a nightingale in a cage who will sing." "I don’t think it’s proper," said the kettle, "that such a foreign bird should be heard." "Oh, let us have some acting," said everyone. “Do let us!” Suddenly the door opened and the maid came in. Everyone was quite quiet. There was not a sound. But each pot knew what he might have done, and how grand he was. The maid took the matches and lit the fire with them. How they spluttered and flamed, to be sure! “Now everyone can see,” they thought, "that we are the grandest! How we sparkle! What a light!" But here they were burnt out." "That was a delightful story!" Said the sultana. "I quite feel myself in the kitchen with the matches. Yes, now you shall marry our daughter." "Yes, indeed," said the sultan, "you shall marry our daughter on Monday." And they treated the young man as one of the family. The wedding was arranged, and the night before the whole town was illuminated. Biscuits and ginger breads were thrown among the people, the street boys stood on tip-toe crying hurrahs and whistling through their fingers. It was all splendid. "Now I must also give them a treat," thought the merchant’s son. And so he bought rockets, crackers, and all the kinds of fireworks you can think of, put them in his trunk, and flew up with them into the air. Whirr-r-r! How they fizzed and blazed! All the Turks jumped so high that their slippers flew above their heads; such a splendid glitter they had never before seen. Now they could quite well understand that it was the god of the Turks himself who was to marry the princess. As soon as the young merchant came down again into the wood with his trunk he thought, "Now I will just go into the town to see how the show has taken." It was quite natural that he should want to do this. Oh! What stories the people had to tell! Each one whom he asked had seen it differently, but they had all found it beautiful. "I saw the Turkish god himself," said one. "He had eyes like glittering stars, and a beard like foaming water." "He flew away in a cloak of fire," said another. They were splendid things that he heard, and the next day was to be his wedding day. Then he went back into the wood to sit in his trunk; but what had become of it? The trunk had been burnt. A spark of the fireworks had set it alight, and the trunk was in ashes. He could no longer fly, and could never reach his bride. She stood the whole day long on the roof and waited; perhaps she is waiting there still. But he wandered through the world and told stories; though they are not so merry as the one he told about the matches. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn96.txt b/text/sn96.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..8bedf4d855018199a5a977a5bb144dd169c2e20d --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn96.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Natasha brings to life the magical world of the tin toys, as well as their very human emotions. The full text of The Streadfast Tin Soldier', "Hello Everybody, My Name's Natasha, and His Royal Highness Prince Bertie the Frog has commanded me to tell you the storynory of The Tin Solider, by Hans Christian Andersen [version by Andrew Lang]", 'But first, I’ll share a little gossip I picked up about Bertie. Once, when Bertie was still a prince, before he was turned into a frog, he tried to play with the soldiers who stood guard outside palace, but the Sergeant Major shouted at him really loudly, and made his clean his boots and tidy his room, and after that Bertie decided to stick to playing with toy soldiers. That’s a secret by the way, so don’t tell anyone. Now, Bertie’s asking me to get on with the story, so I had better begin the Storyory of the Steadfast Tin Soldier. There were once upon a time five-and-twenty tin soldiers – all brothers, as they were made out of the same old tin spoon. Their uniform was red and blue, and they shouldered their guns and looked straight in front of them. The first words that they heard in this world, when the lid of the box in which they lay was taken off, were, "Hurrah, tin soldiers!" This was exclaimed by a little boy, clapping his hands as they had been given to him because it was his birthday, and now he began setting them out on the table. Each soldier was exactly like the other in shape, except just one, who had been made last when the tin had run short; but there he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others did on two, and he is the one that became famous. There were many other playthings on the table on which they were being set out, but the nicest of all was a pretty little castle made of cardboard, with windows through which you could see into the rooms. In front of the castle stood some little trees surrounding a tiny mirror which looked like a lake. Wax swans were floating about and reflecting themselves in it. That was all very pretty; but the most beautiful thing was a little lady, who stood in the open doorway. She was cut out of paper; but she had on a dress of the finest muslin, with a scarf of narrow blue ribbon round her shoulders, fastened in the middle with a glittering rose made of gold paper, which was as large as her head. The little lady was stretching out both her arms, for she was a dancer, and was lifting up one leg so high in the air that the tin soldier couldn’t find it anywhere, and thought that she, too, had only one leg. "That’s the wife for me!" He thought. "But she is so grand, and lives in a castle, whilst I have only a box with four-and-twenty others. This is no place for her! But I must make her acquaintance." Then he stretched himself out behind a snuff-box that lay on the table; from thence he could watch the dainty little lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance. When the night came all the other tin soldiers went into their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Then the toys began to play at visiting, dancing, and fighting. The tin soldiers rattled in their box, for they wanted to be out too, but they could not raise the lid. The nutcrackers played at leap-frog, and the chalk ran about the blackboard; there was such a noise that the canary woke up and began to talk to them, in poetry too! The only two who did not stir from their places were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She remained on tip-toe, with both arms outstretched; he stood steadfastly on his one leg, never moving his eyes from her face. The clock struck twelve, and crack! Off flew the lid of the spice-box; but there were no spices inside, nor any hot curry powder; only a little imp – that was the beauty of it. Now an imp is a magical creature, a little like a fairy, only more naughty. "Hullo, tin soldier!" Said the imp. "Don’t look at things that aren’t intended for the likes of you!" She meant that he shouldn’t look at the little dancer. But the tin soldier took no notice, and seemed not to hear. "Very well, wait until tomorrow!" Said the imp. When it was morning, and the children had gotten up, the tin soldier was put in the window; and whether it was the wind or the little imp, I don’t know, but all at once the window flew open and out fell the little tin soldier, head over heels, from the third storey window! That was a terrible fall, I can tell you! He landed on his head with his leg in the air, his gun being wedged between two paving stones. The nursery maid and the little boy came down at once to look for him, but though they were so near him that they almost trod on him, they did not notice him. If the tin soldier had only called out, "Here I am!" They must have found him; but he did not think it fitting for him to cry out, because he had on his uniform. Soon it began to drizzle. Then the drops came faster, and there was a regular downpour. When it was over, two little street boys came along. "Just look!" Cried one. "Here is a tin soldier! He shall sail up and down in a boat!" So they made a little boat out of newspaper, put the tin soldier in it, and made him sail up and down the gutter; and both the boys ran along beside him, clapping their hands. What great waves there were in the gutter, and what a swift current! The paper boat tossed up and down, and in the middle of the stream it went so quick that the tin soldier trembled; but he remained steadfast, showed no emotion, looked straight in front of him, shouldering his gun. All at once the boat passed under a long tunnel that was as dark as his box had been. "Where can I be coming to now?" He wondered. "Oh, dear! This is the imp’s fault! Ah, if only the little lady were sitting beside me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for all I should care!" Suddenly there came along a great water rat that lived in the tunnel. "Have you a passport?" Asked the rat. "Out with your passport!" But the tin soldier was silent, and grasped his gun more firmly. The boat sped on, and the rat behind it. Ugh! How he showed his teeth, as he cried to the chips of wood and straw: "Hold him, hold him! He has not paid the toll! He has not shown his passport!" But the current became swifter and stronger. The tin soldier could already see daylight where the tunnel ended; but in his ears there sounded a roaring enough to frighten any brave man. Only think! At the end of the tunnel the gutter discharged itself into a great canal. That would be just as dangerous for him as it would be for us to go down a waterfall. Now he was so near to it that he could not hold on any longer. On went the boat, with the poor tin soldier keeping himself as stiff as he could: no one should say of him afterwards that he had flinched. The boat whirled three-four times round, and became filled to the brim with water and it began to sink! The tin soldier was standing up to his neck in water; and deeper and deeper sank the boat, and softer and softer grew the paper. Now the water was over his head. He was thinking of the pretty little dancer, whose face he should never see again, and there sounded in his ears, over and over again, "Forward, forward, soldier bold! Death’s before thee, grim and cold!" The paper came in two, and the soldier fell – but at that moment he was swallowed by a great fish. Oh! How dark it was inside - even darker than in the tunnel, and it was really very close quarters! But there the steadfast little tin soldier lay full length, shouldering his gun. Up and down swam the fish, and he made the most dreadful contortions, and became suddenly quite still. Then it was as if a flash of lightning had passed through him; the daylight streamed in, and a voice exclaimed, "Why, here is the little tin soldier!" The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold, and brought into the kitchen, where the cook had cut it open with a great knife. She took up the soldier between her finger and thumb, and carried him into the room, where everyone wanted to see the hero who had been found inside a fish; but the tin soldier was not at all proud. They put him on the table, and – no, but what strange things do happen in this world! The tin soldier was in the same room in which he had been before! He saw the same children, and the same toys on the table; and there was the same grand castle with the pretty little dancer. She was still standing on one leg with the other high in the air; she too was steadfast. That touched the tin soldier, he was nearly going to shed tin tears; but that would not have been fitting for a soldier. He looked at her, but she said nothing. All at once one of the little boys took up the tin soldier, and threw him into the stove, giving no reasons; but doubtless the imp in the spice box was at the bottom of this too. There the tin soldier lay, and felt a heat that was truly terrible; but whether he was suffering from actual fire, or from the ardour of his passion, he did not know. All his colour had disappeared; whether this had happened on his travels or whether it was the result of trouble - who can say? He looked at the little lady, she looked at him, and he felt that he was melting; but he remained steadfast, with his gun at his shoulder. Suddenly a door opened, the draught caught up the little dancer, and off she flew like a fairy to the tin soldier in the stove, burst into flames – and that was the end of her! Then the tin soldier melted down into a little lump, and when next morning the maid was taking out the ashes, she found him in the shape of a heart. There was nothing left of the little dancer but her gilt rose, burned as black as a cinder. And that’s the Storynory of The Steadfast Tin Soldier. I think the ending was rather sad, don’t you? He was such a brave little soldier - but not all stories have happy endings. Bertie says that when he was a prince, he always looked after all his toys, really carefully, and always put them away in their correct places. He would never lose a good little soldier like the one in the story. Anyway, I’ll be back with another story soon. In the meantime, you can find loads more stories and poems on Storynory.com. Most of them have happy endings, and they are all absolutely free, but if you can also buy personalised stories for a very special person in your life. So tell all your friends to visit Storynory.com. For now, from me, Natasha, Bye Bye! \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn97.txt b/text/sn97.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..fe35500a4c13dbd624f0eb530f533181fbf9b9a7 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn97.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the MP3 Audio of The Tinderbox', "Perhaps the moral of this tale is that there is no moral. It seem that everyone in it is mostly interested in money and prestige, and the soldier's friends quickly abandon him when he loses his wealth. This may represent the young author's cynical view of Copenhagen society - he moved there from his village when he was young. Anyway, it ends happily for the hero and the princess (but not for the witch of the King and Queen).", 'An old Witch met him on the road. She was very ugly to look at: her bottom-lip hung down to her breast.', "'Good evening, Soldier!' she said. 'What a fine sword and knapsack you have! You are the very picture of a fine soldier! You ought to have as much money as you can carry!'", "'Thank you, old Witch,' said the Soldier.", "'Do you see that great tree there?' said the Witch, pointing to a tree beside them. 'It is hollow within. You must climb up to the top, and then you will see a hole through which you can let yourself down into the tree. I will tie a rope round your waist, so that I may be able to pull you up again when you call.'", "'What shall I do down there?' asked the Soldier.", "'Get money!' answered the Witch. 'Listen! When you reach the bottom of the tree you will find yourself in a large hall; it is light there, for there are more than three hundred lamps burning. Then you will see three doors, which you can open--the keys are in the locks. If you go into the first room, you will see a great chest in the middle of the floor with a dog sitting upon it; he has eyes as large as saucers, but you needn't trouble about him. I will give you my blue-check apron, which you must spread out on the floor, and then go back quickly and fetch the dog and set him upon it; open the chest and take as much money as you like. It is copper there. If you would rather have silver, you must go into the next room, where there is a dog with eyes as large as mill-wheels. But don't take any notice of him; just set him upon my apron, and help yourself to the money. If you prefer gold, you can get that too, if you go into the third room, and as much as you like to carry. But the dog that guards the chest there has eyes as large as the Round Tower at Copenhagen! He is a savage dog, I can tell you; but you needn't be afraid of him either. Only, put him on my apron and he won't touch you, and you can take out of the chest as much gold as you like!'", "'Come, this is not bad!' said the Soldier. 'But what am I to give you, old Witch; for surely you are not going to do this for nothing?'", "'Yes, I am!' replied the Witch. 'Not a single farthing will I take! For me you shall bring nothing but an old tinder-box which my grandmother forgot last time she was down there.'", "'Well, tie the rope round my waist! 'said the Soldier.", "'Here it is,' said the Witch, 'and here is my blue-check apron.'", 'Then the Soldier climbed up the tree, let himself down through the hole, and found himself standing, as the Witch had said, underground in the large hall, where the three hundred lamps were burning. Well, he opened the first door. Ugh! there sat the dog with eyes as big as saucers glaring at him.', "'You are a fine fellow!' said the Soldier, and put him on the Witch's apron, took as much copper as his pockets could hold; then he shut the chest, put the dog on it again, and went into the second room. Sure enough there sat the dog with eyes as large as mill-wheels.", "'You had better not look at me so hard!' said the Soldier. 'Your eyes will come out of their sockets!'", 'And then he set the dog on the apron. When he saw all the silver in the chest, he threw away the copper he had taken, and filled his pockets and knapsack with nothing but silver. Then he went into the third room. Horrors! the dog there had two eyes, each as large as the Round Tower at Copenhagen, spinning round in his head like wheels.', "'Good evening!' said the Soldier and saluted, for he had never seen a dog like this before. But when he had examined him more closely, he thought to himself: 'Now then, I've had enough of this!' and put him down on the floor, and opened the chest. Heavens! what a heap of gold there was! With all that he could buy up the whole town, and all the sugar pigs, all the tin soldiers, whips and rocking-horses in the whole world. Now he threw away all the silver with which he had filled his pockets and knapsack, and filled them with gold instead--yes, all his pockets, his knapsack, cap and boots even, so that he could hardly walk. Now he was rich indeed. He put the dog back upon the chest, shut the door, and then called up through the tree:", "'Now pull me up again, old Witch!'", "'Have you got the tinder-box also?' asked the Witch.", "'Botheration!' said the Soldier, 'I had clean forgotten it!' And then he went back and fetched it.", 'The Witch pulled him up, and there he stood again on the high road, with pockets, knapsack, cap and boots filled with gold.', "'What do you want to do with the tinder-box?' asked the Soldier.", "'That doesn't matter to you,' replied the Witch. 'You have got your money, give me my tinder-box.'", "'We'll see!' said the Soldier. 'Tell me at once what you want to do with it, or I will draw my sword, and cut off your head!'", "'No!' screamed the Witch.", 'The Soldier immediately cut off her head. That was the end of her! But he tied up all his gold in her apron, slung it like a bundle over his shoulder, put the tinder-box in his pocket, and set out towards the town. It was a splendid town! He turned into the finest inn, ordered the best chamber and his favourite dinner; for now that he had so much money he was really rich. It certainly occurred to the servant who had to clean his boots that they were astonishingly old boots for such a rich lord. But that was because he had not yet bought new ones; next day he appeared in respectable boots and fine clothes. Now, instead of a common soldier he had become a noble lord, and the people told him about all the grand doings of the town and the King, and what a beautiful Princess his daughter was.', "'How can one get to see her?' asked the Soldier.", "'She is never to be seen at all!' they told him; 'she lives in a great copper castle, surrounded by many walls and towers! No one except the King may go in or out, for it is prophesied that she will marry a common soldier, and the King cannot submit to that.'", "'I should very much like to see her,' thought the Soldier; but he could not get permission.", "Now he lived very gaily, went to the theatre, drove in the King's garden, and gave the poor a great deal of money, which was very nice of him; he had experienced in former times how hard it is not to have a farthing in the world. Now he was rich, wore fine clothes, and made many friends, who all said that he was an excellent man, a real nobleman. And the Soldier liked that. But as he was always spending money, and never made any more, at last the day came when he had nothing left but two shillings, and he had to leave the beautiful rooms in which he had been living, and go into a little attic under the roof, and clean his own boots, and mend them with a darning-needle. None of his friends came to visit him there, for there were too many stairs to climb.", 'It was a dark evening, and he could not even buy a light. But all at once it flashed across him that there was a little end of tinder in the tinder-box, which he had taken from the hollow tree into which the Witch had helped him down. He found the box with the tinder in it; but just as he was kindling a light, and had struck a spark out of the tinder-box, the door burst open, and the dog with eyes as large as saucers, which he had seen down in the tree, stood before him and said:', "'What does my lord command?'", "'What's the meaning of this?' exclaimed the Soldier. 'This is a pretty kind of tinder-box, if I can get whatever I want like this. Get me money!' he cried to the dog, and hey, presto! he was off and back again, holding a great purse full of money in his mouth.", 'Now the Soldier knew what a wonderful tinder-box this was. If he rubbed once, the dog that sat on the chest of copper appeared; if he rubbed twice, there came the dog that watched over the silver chest; and if he rubbed three times, the one that guarded the gold appeared. Now, the Soldier went down again to his beautiful rooms, and appeared once more in splendid clothes. All his friends immediately recognised him again, and paid him great court.', "One day he thought to himself: 'It is very strange that no one can get to see the Princess. They all say she is very pretty, but what's the use of that if she has to sit for ever in the great copper castle with all the towers? Can I not manage to see her somehow? Where is my tinder-box?' and so he struck a spark, and, presto! there came the dog with eyes as large as saucers.", "'It is the middle of the night, I know,' said the Soldier; 'but I should very much like to see the Princess for a moment.'", "The dog was already outside the door, and before the Soldier could look round, in he came with the Princess. She was lying asleep on the dog's back, and was so beautiful that anyone could see she was a real Princess. The Soldier really could not refrain from kissing her--he was such a thorough Soldier. Then the dog ran back with the Princess. But when it was morning, and the King and Queen were drinking tea, the Princess said that the night before she had had such a strange dream about a dog and a Soldier: she had ridden on the dog's back, and the Soldier had kissed her.", "'That is certainly a fine story,' said the Queen. But the next night one of the ladies-in-waiting was to watch at the Princess's bed, to see if it was only a dream, or if it had actually happened.", "The Soldier had an overpowering longing to see the Princess again, and so the dog came in the middle of the night and fetched her, running as fast as he could. But the lady-in-waiting slipped on soft rubber shoes and followed them. When she saw them disappear into a large house, she thought to herself: 'Now I know where it is; 'and made a great cross on the door with a piece of chalk. Then she went home and lay down, and the dog came back also, with the Princess. But when he saw that a cross had been made on the door of the house where the Soldier lived, he took a piece of chalk also, and made crosses on all the doors in the town; and that was very clever, for now the lady-in-waiting could not find the right house, as there were crosses on all the doors.", 'Early next morning the King, Queen, ladies-in-waiting, and officers came out to see where the Princess had been.', "'There it is!' said the King, when he saw the first door with a cross on it.", "'No, there it is, my dear!' said the Queen, when she likewise saw a door with a cross.", "'But here is one, and there is another!' they all exclaimed; wherever they looked there was a cross on the door. Then they realised that the sign would not help them at all.", "But the Queen was an extremely clever woman, who could do a great deal more than just drive in a coach. She took her great golden scissors, cut up a piece of silk, and made a pretty little bag of it. This she filled with the grains of porridge oats, and tied it round the Princess' neck; this done, she cut a little hole in the bag, so that the grains would strew the whole road wherever the Princess went.", 'In the night the dog came again, took the Princess on his back and ran away with her to the Soldier, who was very much in love with her, and would have liked to have been a Prince, so that he might have had her for his wife.', "The dog did not notice how the grains were strewn right from the castle to the Soldier's window, where he ran up the wall with the Princess.", 'In the morning the King and the Queen saw plainly where their daughter had been, and they took the Soldier and put him into prison.', "There he sat. Oh, how dark and dull it was there! And they told him: 'To-morrow you are to be hanged.' Hearing that did not exactly cheer him, and he had left his tinder-box in the inn.", "Next morning he could see through the iron grating in front of his little window how the people were hurrying out of the town to see him hanged. He heard the drums and saw the soldiers marching; all the people were running to and fro. Just below his window was a shoemaker's apprentice, with leather apron and shoes; he was skipping along so merrily that one of his shoes flew off and fell against the wall, just where the Soldier was sitting peeping through the iron grating.", "'Oh, shoemaker's boy, you needn't be in such a hurry!' said the Soldier to him. 'There's nothing going on till I arrive. But if you will run back to the house where I lived, and fetch me my tinder-box, I will give you four shillings. But you must put your best foot foremost.'", "The shoemaker's boy was very willing to earn four shillings, and fetched the tinder-box, gave it to the Soldier, and--yes--now you shall hear.", 'Outside the town a great scaffold had been erected, and all round were standing the soldiers, and hundreds of thousands of people. The King and Queen were sitting on a magnificent throne opposite the judges and the whole council. The Soldier was already standing on the top of the ladder; but when they wanted to put the rope round his neck, he said that the fulfilment of one innocent request was always granted to a poor criminal before he underwent his punishment. He would so much like to smoke a small pipe of tobacco; it would be his last pipe in this world. The King could not refuse him this, and so he took out his tinder-box, and rubbed it once, twice, three times. And lo, and behold I there stood all three dogs--the one with eyes as large as saucers, the second with eyes as large as mill-wheels, and the third with eyes each as large as the Round Tower of Copenhagen.', "'Help me now, so that I may not be hanged!' cried the Soldier. And thereupon the dogs fell upon the judges and the whole council, seized some by the legs, others by the nose, and threw them so high into the air that they fell and were smashed into pieces.", "'I won't stand this!' said the King; but the largest dog seized him too, and the Queen as well, and threw them up after the others. This frightened the soldiers, and all the people cried: 'Good Soldier, you shall be our King, and marry the beautiful Princess!'", "Then they put the Soldier into the King's coach, and the three dogs danced in front, crying 'Hurrah!' And the boys whistled and the soldiers presented arms.", 'The Princess came out of the copper castle, and became Queen; and that pleased her very much. The wedding festivities lasted for eight days, and the dogs sat at table and made eyes at everyone. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn98.txt b/text/sn98.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..3e5a04e489a2f0c25dec35f19bb202c9fa410d42 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn98.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the MP3 Audio Gerda goes in search of her friend Kay who has been kidnapped by the beautiful Snow Queen. Her journey brings her to a witch with a lovely garden where it is always warm summer. Gerda forgets all about Kay until she notices that just one flower is missing from the garden. She meets a friendly crow who says he has seen a boy who looks like Kay. He is now living in a splendid palace. The third and final part will follow shortly. What happened to little Gerda when Kay did not come back? What had become of him? Nobody knew. The other boys told how they had seen him fasten his sledge on to a large one which had driven out of the town gate. Gerda cried a great deal. The winter was long and dark to her. Then the spring came with warm sunshine. "I will go and look for Kay," said Gerda. So she went down to the river and got into a little boat that was there. Presently the stream began to carry it away. "Perhaps the river will take me to Kay," thought Gerda. She glided down, past trees and fields, until she came to a large cherry garden, in which stood a little house with strange red and blue windows and a straw roof. Before the door stood two wooden soldiers, who were shouldering arms. Gerda called to them, but they naturally did not answer. The river carried the boat on to the land. Gerda called out still louder, and there came out of the house a very old woman. She leaned upon a crutch, and she wore a large sunhat which was painted with the most beautiful flowers. "You poor little girl!" Said the old woman. Then she stepped into the water, brought the boat in close with her crutch, and lifted little Gerda out. "Now come and tell me who you are, and how you came here," she said. Gerda told her everything, and asked her if she had seen Kay. She said he had not passed that way yet, but he would soon come. She also told Gerda not to be sad, and that she should stay with her and take of the cherry trees and flowers, which were better than any picture book, as they could each tell a story. She then took Gerda’s hand and led her into the little house and shut the door. The windows were very high, and the panes were red, blue, and yellow, so that the light came through in curious colours. On the table were the most delicious cherries, and the old woman let Gerda eat as many as she liked, while she combed her hair with a golden comb as she ate. Her beautiful sunny hair rippled and shone around her dear little face, which was so soft and sweet. "I have always longed to have a dear little girl just like you, and you shall see how happy we will be together." As she combed Gerda’s hair, Gerda thought less and less about Kay; for the old woman was a witch, but not a wicked witch, for she only enchanted now and then to amuse herself, and she did want to keep little Gerda very much. So she went into the garden and waved her stick over all the rose bushes and blossoms and all. They sank down into the black earth, and no one could see where they had been. The old woman was afraid that if Gerda saw the roses she would begin to think about her own, and then would remember Kay and run away. She led Gerda out into the garden. How glorious it was, and what lovely scents filled the air! All the flowers you can think of blossomed there all the year round. Gerda jumped for joy and played there until the sun set behind the tall cherry trees, and then she slept in a beautiful bed with red silk pillows filled with violets, and she slept soundly and dreamed as a queen does on her wedding day. The next day she played again with the flowers in the warm sunshine, and so many days passed by. Gerda knew every flower, but although there were so many, it seemed to her as if one were not there, though she could not remember which. She was looking one day at the old woman’s sun hat which had the painted flowers on it, and there she saw a rose. The witch had forgotten to make that vanish when she had made the other roses disappear under the earth. It was so difficult to think of everything. "Why, there are no roses here!" Gerda cried, and she hunted amongst all the flowers, but not one was to be found. Then she sat down and cried, but her tears fell just on the spot where a rose bush had sunk, and when her warm tears watered the earth, the bush came up in full bloom just as it had been before. Gerda kissed the roses and thought of the lovely roses at home, and with them came the thought of little Kay. "Oh, what have I been doing!" Said the little girl. "I wanted to look for Kay." She ran to the end of the garden. The gate was shut, but she pushed against the rusty lock so that it came open. She ran out with her little bare feet. No one came after her. At last she could not run any longer, and she sat down on a large stone. When she looked around she saw that the summer was over; it was late autumn. It had not changed in the beautiful garden, where were sunshine and flowers all the year round. "Oh, dear, how late I have made myself!" Gerda said. "It’s autumn already! I cannot rest!" She sprang up to run on. Oh, how tired and sore her little feet grew, and it became colder and colder. She had to rest again, and there on the snow in front of her was a large crow. It had been looking at her for some time, and it nodded its head and said, "Caw! Caw! Good day." Then it asked the little girl why she was alone in the world. She told the crow her story, and asked if he had seen Kay. The crow nodded very thoughtfully and said, "It might be! It might be!" "What! Do you think you have?" Cried the little girl, and she almost squeezed the crow to death as she kissed him. "Gently, gently!" Said the crow. "I think – I know I think... It might be little Kay, but now he has forgotten you for the princess!" "Does he live with a princess?" Gerda asked. "Yes, listen," said the crow; then he told her all he knew. "In the kingdom, in which we are now sitting, lives a princess who is dreadfully clever. She has read all the newspapers in the world and has forgotten them again. She is as clever as that. The other day she came to the throne, and that is not so pleasant as people think. Then she began to say, “Why should I not marry?” But she wanted a husband who could answer when he was spoken to, not one who would stand up stiffly and look respectable – that would be too dull. When she told all the court ladies, they were delighted. You can believe every word I say," said the crow, "I have a tame sweetheart in the palace, and she tells me everything." Of course his sweetheart was a crow. "The newspapers came out next morning with a border of hearts round it, and the princess’ monogram on it, and inside you could read that every good looking young man might come into the palace and speak to the princess, and whoever should speak loud enough to be heard would be well fed and looked after, and the one who spoke best should become the princess’ husband. Indeed," said the crow, "you can quite believe me. It is as true as that I am sitting here... Young men came in streams, and there was such a crowding and a mixing together! But nothing came of it on the first, nor on the second day. They could all speak quite well when they were in the street; but as soon as they came inside the palace door, and saw the guards in silver, and upstairs the footmen in gold, and the great hall all lighted up, then their wits left them! When they stood in front of the throne where the princess was sitting, then they could not think of anything to say except to repeat the last word she had spoken, and she did not much care to hear that again. It seemed as if they were walking in their sleep until they came out into the street again, when they could speak once more. There was a row stretching from the gate of the town up to the castle." "They were hungry and thirsty, but in the palace they did not even get a glass of water. A few of the cleverest had brought some slices of bread and butter with them, but they did not share them with their neighbour; “If he looks hungry, the princess will not take him!” They thought." "But what about Kay?" Gerda asked. "When did he come? Was he in the crowd?" "Wait a bit; we are coming to him! On the third day a little figure came without horse or carriage and walked jauntily up to the palace. His eyes shone as yours do; he had lovely curling hair, but quite poor clothes." "That was Kay!" Cried Gerda with delight. "Oh, then I have found him!" And she clapped her hands. "He had a little bundle on his back," said the crow. "No, it must have been his skates, for he went away with his skates!" "Very likely," said the crow, "I did not see for certain. But I know this from my sweetheart, that when he came to the palace door and saw the royal guards in silver, and on the stairs the footmen in gold, he was not the least bit put out. He nodded to them, saying, “It must be rather dull standing on the stairs; I would rather go inside! The halls blazed with lights; councillors and ambassadors were walking about in noiseless shoes carrying gold dishes. It was enough to make one nervous! His boots creaked dreadfully loud, but he was not frightened." "That must be Kay!" Gerda said. "I know he had new boots on; I have heard them creaking in his grandmother’s room!" "They did creak, certainly!" Said the crow. "And, not one bit afraid, up he went to the princess, who was sitting on a large pearl as round as a spinning wheel. All the ladies-in-waiting were standing around, each with their attendants, and the lords-in-waiting with their attendants. The nearer they stood to the door the prouder they were." "It must have been dreadful!" Said little Gerda. "And Kay did win the princess?" "I heard from my tame sweetheart that he was merry and quick-witted; he had not come to woo, he said, but to listen to the princess’ wisdom. The end of it was that they fell in love with each other." "Oh, yes; that was Kay!" Said Gerda. "He was so clever; he could do sums with fractions. Oh, do lead me to the palace!" "That’s easily said," answered the crow, "but how are we to manage that? I must talk it over with my tame sweetheart. She may be able to advise us, for I must tell you that a little girl like you could never get permission to enter it." "Yes, I will get it!" Said Gerda. "When Kay hears that I am there he will come out at once and fetch me!" "Wait for me by the railings," said the crow, and he nodded his head and flew away. It was late in the evening when he came back. "Caw, caw!" He said, "I am to give you her love, and here is a little roll for you. She took it out of the kitchen; there’s plenty there, and you must be hungry. You cannot come into the palace. The guards in silver and the footmen in gold would not allow it. But don’t cry! You shall get in all right. My sweetheart knows a little back-stairs which leads to the sleeping room, and she knows where to find the key." They went into the garden, and when the lights in the palace were put out one after the other, the crow led Gerda to a backdoor. Oh, how Gerda’s heart beat with anxiety and longing! It seemed as if she were going to do something wrong, but she only wanted to know if it were little Kay. Yes, it must be he! She remembered so well his clever eyes, his curly hair. She could see him smiling as he did when they were at home under the rose trees! He would be so pleased to see her, and to hear how they all were at home. Now they were on the stairs; a little lamp was burning, and on the landing stood the tame crow. She put her head on one side and looked at Gerda, who bowed as her grandmother had taught her. "My betrothed has told me many nice things about you, my dear young lady," she said. "Will you take the lamp while I go in front? We\'ll go this way so as to meet no one." Through beautiful rooms they came to the sleeping room. In the middle of it, hung on a thick rod of gold, were two beds - shaped like lilies; one all white, in which lay the princess, and the other red, in which Gerda hoped to find Kay. She pushed aside the curtain, and saw a brown neck. Oh, it was Kay! She called his name out loud, holding the lamp towards him. He woke up, turned his head and... It was not Kay! It was only his neck that was like Kay’s, but he was young and handsome. The princess sat up in her lily bed and asked who was there. Then Gerda cried, and told her story and all that the crows had done. "You poor child!" Said the prince and princess. They praised the crows, and said that they were not angry with them, but that they must not do it again. Now they should have a reward. "Would you like to fly away free?" Said the princess. "Or will you have a permanent place as court crows with what you can get in the kitchen?" Both crows bowed and asked for a permanent appointment, for they thought of their old age. They put Gerda to bed, and she folded her hands, thinking as she fell asleep, "How good people and animals are to me!" The next day she was dressed from head to foot in silk and satin. They wanted her to stay on in the palace, but she begged for a little carriage and a horse, and a pair of shoes so that she might go out again into the world to look for Kay. They gave her a muff as well as some shoes; she was warmly dressed, and when she was ready, there in front of the door stood a coach of pure gold, with a coachman, footmen and postilions with gold crowns on. The prince and princess helped her into the carriage and wished her good luck. The wild crow who was now married drove with her for the first three miles; the other crow could not come because she had a bad headache. "Goodbye, goodbye!" Called the prince and princess; and little Gerda cried, and the crow cried. When he said goodbye, he flew on to a tree and waved with his black wings as long as the carriage, which shone like the sun, was in sight. They came at last to a dark wood, but the coach lit it up like a torch. When the robbers saw it, they rushed out, exclaiming, "Gold! Gold!" They seized the horses, killed the coachman, footmen and postilions, and dragged Gerda out of the carriage. "She is plump and tender! I will eat her!" Said the old robber-queen, and she drew her long knife, which glittered horribly. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/text/sn99.txt b/text/sn99.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000000000000000000000000000000000000..4c6ccdac4917d26b9729786d4b46936f26bd0579 --- /dev/null +++ b/text/sn99.txt @@ -0,0 +1 @@ +Download the Audio MP3 The close of the story is the most magical yet, taking us across the frozen landscapes of Finland and Lapland under the dazzling Northern Lights - to the palace of the Snow Queen. "You shall not kill her!" Cried her little daughter. "She shall play with me. She shall give me her muff and her beautiful dress, and she shall sleep in my bed." The little robber girl was as big as Gerda; but was stronger, broader, with dark hair and black eyes. She threw her arms around Gerda and said, "They shall not kill you, so long as you are not naughty. Aren’t you a princess?" "No," said Gerda, and she told all that had happened to her, and how dearly she loved little Kay. The robber girl looked at her very seriously, and nodded her head, saying, "They shall not kill you, even if you are naughty, for then I will kill you myself!" She dried Gerda’s eyes, and stuck both her hands in the beautiful warm muff. The little robber girl took Gerda to a corner of the robbers’ camp where she slept. All around were more than a hundred wood pigeons which seemed to be asleep, but they moved a little when the two girls came up. There was also, near by, a reindeer which the robber girl teased by tickling it with her long sharp knife. Gerda lay awake for some time. "Coo, coo," said the wood pigeons. "We have seen little Kay. A white bird carried his sledge; he was sitting in the Snow Queen’s carriage which drove over the forest when our little ones were in the nest. She breathed on them, and all except we two died. Coo, coo!" "What are you saying over there?" Gerda cried. "Where was the Snow Queen going to? Do you know at all?" "She was probably travelling to Lapland, where there is always ice and snow. Ask the reindeer." "There is capital ice and snow there!" Said the reindeer. "One can jump about there in the great sparkling valleys. There the Snow Queen has her summer palace, but her best palace is up by the North Pole, on the island called Spitzbergen." "Oh Kay, my little Kay!" Sobbed Gerda. "You must lie still," said the little robber girl, "or else I shall stick my knife into you!" In the morning Gerda told her all that the wood pigeons had said. She nodded. "Do you know where Lapland is?" She asked the reindeer. "Who should know better than I?" Said the beast, and his eyes sparkled. "I was born and bred there on the snow fields." "Listen!" Said the robber girl to Gerda. "You see that all the robbers have gone; only my mother is left, and she will fall asleep in the afternoon – then I will do something for you!" When her mother had fallen asleep, the robber girl went up to the reindeer and said, "I am going to set you free so that you can run to Lapland. But you must go quickly and carry this little girl to the Snow Queen’s palace, where her playfellow is. You must have heard all that she told about it, for she spoke loud enough!" The reindeer sprang high for joy. The robber girl lifted little Gerda up, and had the foresight to tie her on firmly, and even gave her a little pillow for a saddle. "You must have your fur boots," she said, "for it will be cold; but I shall keep your muff, for it is so cosy! But, so that you may not freeze, here are my mother’s great fur gloves; they will come up to your elbows. Creep into them!" Gerda cried for joy. "Don’t make such faces!" Said the little robber girl. "You must look very happy. Here are two loaves and a sausage; now you won’t be hungry!" They were tied to the reindeer, the little robber girl opened the door, made all the big dogs come away, cut through the halter with her sharp knife, and said to the reindeer, "Run now! But take great care of the little girl." Gerda stretched out her hands with the large fur gloves towards the little robber girl and said, "Goodbye!" Then the reindeer flew over the ground, through the great forest, as fast as he could. The wolves howled, the ravens screamed, the sky seemed on fire. "Those are my dear old northern lights," said the reindeer, "see how they shine!" And then he ran faster still, day and night. The loaves were eaten, and the sausage also, and then they came to Lapland. They stopped by a wretched little house; the roof almost touched the ground, and the door was so low that you had to creep in and out. There was no one in the house except an old Lapland woman who was cooking fish over an oil lamp. The reindeer told Gerda’s whole history, but first he told his own, for that seemed to him much more important, and Gerda was so cold that she could not speak. "Ah, you poor creatures!" Said the Lapland woman. "You have still further to go! You must go over a hundred miles into Finland, for there the Snow Queen lives, and every night she burns Bengal lights. I will write some words on a dried stockfish, for I have no paper, and you must give it to the Finland woman - for she can give you better advice than I can." When Gerda was warmed and had something to eat and drink, the Lapland woman wrote on a dried stockfish, and begged Gerda to take care of it, tied Gerda securely on the reindeer’s back, and away they went again. The whole night was ablaze with Northern Lights, and then they came to Finland and knocked at the Finland woman’s chimney - for door she had none. Inside it was so hot that the Finland woman wore very few clothes; she loosened Gerda’s clothes and drew off her fur gloves and boots. She laid a piece of ice on the reindeer’s head, and then read what was written on the stockfish. She read it over three times until she knew it by heart, and then put the fish in the saucepan, for she never wasted anything. Then the reindeer told his story, and afterwards little Gerda’s, and the Finland woman blinked her eyes but said nothing. "You are very clever," said the reindeer. "I know. Cannot you give the little girl a drink so that she may have the strength of twelve men and overcome the Snow Queen?" "The strength of twelve men!" Said the Finland woman. "That would not help much. Little Kay is with the Snow Queen and he likes everything there very much and thinks it the best place in the world. But that is because he has a splinter of glass in his heart and a bit in his eye. If these do not come out, he will never be free, and the Snow Queen will keep her power over him." "But cannot you give little Gerda something so that she can have power over her?" "I can give her no greater power than she has already; don’t you see how great it is? Don’t you see how men and beasts must help her when she wanders into the wide world with her bare feet? She is powerful already, because she is a dear little innocent child. If she cannot by herself conquer the Snow Queen and take away the glass splinters from little Kay, we cannot help her! The Snow Queen’s garden begins two miles from here. You can carry the little maiden so far; put her down by the large bush with red berries growing in the snow. Then you must come back here as fast as you can." Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda on the reindeer and away he sped. "Oh, I have left my gloves and boots behind!" Gerda cried. She missed them in the piercing cold, but the reindeer did not dare to stop. On he ran until he came to the bush with red berries. There he set Gerda down and kissed her mouth, and great big tears ran down his cheeks, and then he ran back. There stood poor Gerda, without shoes or gloves in the middle of the bitter cold of Finland. She ran on as fast as she could. A regiment of gigantic snowflakes came against her, but they melted when they touched her, and she went on with fresh courage. Now we must see what Kay was doing. He was not thinking of Gerda, and never dreamed that she was standing outside the palace. The walls of the palace were built of driven snow, and the doors and windows of piercing winds. There were more than a hundred halls in it, all of frozen snow. The largest was several miles long; the bright Northern Lights lit them up, and very large and empty and cold and glittering they were! In the middle of the great hall was a frozen lake which had cracked in a thousand pieces; each piece was exactly like the other. Here the Snow Queen used to sit when she was at home. Little Kay was almost blue and black with cold, but he did not feel it, for she had kissed away his feelings and his heart was a lump of ice. He was pulling about some sharp, flat pieces of ice, and trying to fit one into the other. He thought each was most beautiful, but that was because of the splinter of glass in his eye. He fitted them into a great many shapes, but he wanted to make them spell the word "Love." The Snow Queen had said, "If you can spell out that word you shalt be your own master. I will give you the whole world and a new pair of skates." But he could not do it. "Now I must fly to warmer countries," said the Snow Queen. "I must go and powder my black kettles!" (This was what she called Mount Etna and Mount Vesuvius.) "It does the lemons and grapes good." Off she flew, and Kay sat alone in the great hall trying to do his puzzle. He sat so still that you would have thought he was frozen. Then it happened that little Gerda stepped into the hall. The biting cold winds became quiet as if they had fallen asleep when she appeared in the great, empty, freezing hall. She caught sight of Kay; she recognised him, and ran and put her arms round his neck, crying, "Kay! Dear little Kay! I have found you at last!" But he sat quite still and cold. Then Gerda wept hot tears which fell on his neck which thawed his heart and swept away the bit of the looking glass. He looked at her and then he burst into tears. He cried so much that the glass splinter swam out of his eye; then he knew her, and cried out, "Gerda! Dear little Gerda! Where have you been so long? Where have I been?" And he looked round him. "How cold it is here! How wide and empty!" He threw himself on Gerda, and she laughed and wept for joy. It was such a happy time that the pieces of ice even danced round them for joy, and when they were tired and lay down again they formed themselves into the letters that the Snow Queen had said he must spell in order to become his own master and have the whole world and a new pair of skates. Gerda kissed his cheeks and they grew rosy; she kissed his eyes and they sparkled like hers, she kissed his hands and feet and he became warm and glowing. The Snow Queen might come home now; his release – the word ‘Love’ – stood written in sparkling ice. They took each other’s hands and wandered out of the great palace; they talked about the grandmother and the roses on the leads, wherever they came the winds hushed and the sun came out. When they reached the bush with red berries there stood the reindeer waiting for them. He carried Kay and Gerda first to the Finland woman, who warmed them in her hot room and gave them advice for their journey home. Then they went to the Lapland woman, who gave them new clothes and mended their sleigh. The reindeer ran with them until they came to the green fields fresh with the spring green. Here he said goodbye. They came to the forest, which was bursting into bud, and out of it came a splendid horse which Gerda knew; it was the one which had drawn the gold coach ridden by a young girl with a red cap on and pistols in her belt. It was the little robber girl who was tired of being at home and wanted to go out into the world. She and Gerda knew each other at once. "You are a nice fellow!" She said to Kay. "I should like to know if you deserve to be run all over the world!" Gerda patted her cheeks and asked after the prince and princess. "They are travelling about," said the robber girl. "And the crow?" Gerda asked. "Oh, the crow is dead!" Answered the robber girl. "His tame sweetheart is a widow and hops about with a bit of black crape around her leg. She makes a great fuss, but that’s all nonsense. But tell me what happened to you, and how you caught him." Kay and Gerda told her all. "Dear, dear!" Said the robber girl, shook both their hands, and promised that if she came to their town she would come and see them. Then she rode on. Gerda and Kay went home hand in hand. There they found the grandmother and everything just as it had been, but when they went through the doorway they found they were grown up. There were the roses on the leads; it was summer, warm, glorious summer. \ No newline at end of file