We need to hear young voices. I hope you enjoy this view of the world from a very young voice.
A Poem by A.H., age 4
When I’m swinging,
I’m bigger than Mommy and Daddy.
I’m bigger than the trees.
I’m bigger than the wood chips
And the playground.
I’m bigger than everything.
Copyright 2013 Friendly Fairy Tales
On October 22, Friendly Fairy Tales announced the publication of a new, previously-unpublished story, The Day the Dragon Flew up the Chimney, on The Paperbook Collective October 2013 Issue 3.
Click to read Part 1. As promised, here is the Final Part:
Henry decided he’d better keep an eye on the dragon, so he followed it closely. The dragon was flitting from chair leg to chair leg. He would hop up onto chair arms or tables and eat the food right off people’s plates and drink the tea right out of people’s cups. Everyone was so busy talking that no one noticed a thing.
Then the miller’s wife reached for one of her cookies, only to find that it had disappeared. “That’s odd,” she said.
“Miss Miller, Ma’am,” said Henry. “A dragon has eaten your cookies.” Meanwhile the dragon had moved on to Phileas Farmer’s plate.
“Henry!” scolded his mother. “Stop telling fibs and don’t filch people’s cookies. Now for the last time, go and play. Honestly.”
“But Mama,” protested Henry. Sadly, his mother just shook her head at him and waggled her finger. If his mother wouldn’t believe him, who would? Henry watched as the tiny dragon plundered the room of its teacakes, its cookies, its biscuits and its tea with cream. A hum of conversation arose as more and more villagers were puzzled to discover empty plates and cups. Henry wondered how such a tiny dragon could eat so much.
Then the dragon had the temerity to steal from his father’s plate, and that was more than Henry could bear. “Daddy, Daddy,” cried Henry. “The dragon is stealing your biscuits!” The whole room stopped to stare at Henry. Henry’s father seemed very embarrassed.
“Henry, I told you not to fib!” cried his mother, standing up.
“But I’m not!” Henry replied.
“Then where is the dragon,” asked the mayor with one last laugh. Henry pointed at the hearth where the dragon perched, fickety-mickety finishing up the last chocolate from the plate of Mrs. Farmer. The fire had died down a little, but he was still clearly visible against the glow.
When the dragon noticed everyone staring at him, he gulped down the cookie and flew straight up the chimney.
Everyone gave a gasp, and the mayor and several aldermen raced over to try to look up the chimney. No one could see anything for the fire and the smoke.
Henry’s mother and father came and gave him hugs and apologized for doubting him. The villagers all patted his shoulders and told him how brave he had been. He was the village hero thereafter. And when Henry grew up, they elected him mayor. To this day they tell stories of the day the dragon flew up the chimney.
THE END
Copyright Brenda Davis Harsham April 1, 2005
Hope you are flying high this Halloween!! Be safe! Brenda
Friendly Fairy Tales is pleased to offer a Halloween story for Adventurous Fairy Tale readers, Crankypot Halloween. Here is an excerpt:
Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it, trippingly.
First rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.
— William Shakespeare
(A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act V, Scene II)
The gray-haired man sat tapping his fingers on his knee, without noticing tiny flickering lights under drooping dahlias, but he was aware of the darkening sky. He did not notice three raven nests in the tree across the street. A little girl followed the flickering lights, crying the whole way, closer and closer to where the man sat in the dark.
He heard her weeping by the gate, and shouted “Take your tricks elsewhere! No treats here!” He had been guarding his yard from the pitch-black of his porch for 25 years, not letting any trick-or-treaters through the gate, all lights off.
The crying got louder. “Go away, you can’t trick me!” He shouted again, unable to see anything with the sun sinking fast. He heard hiccups, then even louder wailing. He flipped the floodlights on, against his usual policy entirely. In the wash of yellow light, all the flickering twilight fairies hid, and the ravens called out, restless.
He sighed and approached the gate for the first time in 25 years on Halloween. In the light from his floodlights, he saw a little girl with blonde curls stuck to her wet cheeks. Tears were rolling down from her eyes, and dangling on the strands of her hair like dew. The straps of her pink butterfly wings had slid off her shoulders, and she clutched a pillow case tightly in a fist. She looked just like his daughter, Ella Mae, all those years ago when he caught her sneaking out to trick-or-treat behind his back. He had yelled at Ella Mae, and now she lived on the opposite side of the country.
“What’s the matter, girl?” He asked gruffly.
To find out what happens, whether tricks or treats, please click on Crankpot Halloween.
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
Friendly Fairy Tales is pleased to announce the publication of a new, previously-unpublished story, The Day the Dragon Flew up the Chimney, on The Paperbook Collective October 2013 Issue 3. Thanks to Jayde Ashe for publishing this story!!
Excerpt from The Day the Dragon Flew up the Chimney
One day, the sky was so dark that day seemed like night. No work could be done in the village of Miller’s Bend. All the villagers gathered in the great hall to tell stories and visit with each other.
Suddenly there was a loud knock at the door. Everyone looked around in wonder. Everyone in the village was already inside the great hall. Whoever was outside must be a stranger.
After another booming knock came, the mayor went to open the door. He looked left and he looked right, but there was no one there. He did not notice a tiny dragon no bigger than a teacup dart into the hall and hide behind a chair leg. Everyone else was looking up at the mayor’s shoulder, and they didn’t see the tiny dragon either. Everyone, that is, except a little boy named Henry who was no more than three.
Now Henry had been playing marbles near the door, and he was just the right height to see the dragon. He went at once to his mother’s knee, but she was talking to the miller’s wife. He pulled at her skirts, but she said, “Henry, I’m talking to Eliza, go and play.”
Henry tried his father next, but his father was talking to the mayor.
‘There was no one there,” said the mayor.
“Isn’t that odd?” responded Henry’s father. Henry tugged on his pant leg.
“Henry, go and play. You can see I’m busy.” Henry’s father did not listen.
Henry decided he’d better keep an eye on the dragon, so he followed it closely.
To find out what happens to Henry, adult readers can download the Paperbook Collective with work by many fabulous writers here or please check back on Friendly Fairy Tales for the rest of the story in a few days…
Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham
A wonderful green haiku that made me stop, think and smile. I hope you like the poem and photo. They are from Grumpytyke, and the name of the blog also made me smile. Have great weeks everybody! Warmly, Brenda
Green satiated
Winter songsters’ sanguine store
Shiver prophesy
View original post 78 more words
Baby Coyote lived in a den with his mom and dad, deep in a wood surrounded by the roads and houses of big folk. Mom and Dad Coyote hunted at night. In the early morning, they woke Baby Coyote. They fed him, played with him and kept him safe. They usually slept away the long hours the big folk were walking the trails, but sometimes they would hide and watch them pass by. The big folk seemed to see nothing at all that was not on the trails. Baby Coyote thought they were funny, especially when they would exclaim over dragonflies or poison ivy.
One morning, his mom and dad had to go visit the faraway woods. On the sunshine oak next door, hidden in the nasturtiums behind a round door, lived a happy gnome. His name was Iron Hair, for his stiff, spiky gray hair. Continue reading
A lovely magical poem from Scottishmomus, of the all-seeing eye. Here she beards a dragon in his lair. Happy long weekend! Brenda
A fire burns
Within this cave
And sulphur
Fills the air.
Exploration,
Through the mire,
Finds
The dragon’s lair
Where slumber’s rest
Holds still
His breath, flame now
Quietly quenched.
Wait, survey,
A quiet snore,
Now the time
To wrench
One scale from tail
Of beast of lore
Bless’d magic,
Glitter’d gem
Holds promise of
Imagination.
To brave only,
It is given.
Sahm’s idea of a dragon paves the way.
Another magical poem and gorgeous photograph from Lavender Moon Girl for your enjoyment! Thanks Lavender! Cheers, Brenda
Languishing Morning Glory,
Glowing like
A pixie’s French horn,
Bathing
Ceremoniously
In morning rays;
Playing a fanfare
To golden
Days.
A delightful riff on my autumnal music, here is the fairy of disenchantment’s magical take on fall. 🙂 Hugs all around, Brenda
Willow’s magical post is a masterpiece, a precious ode to the moon. Have a great Sunday! Warmly, Brenda
Moon
Opal light
Opaque stone
Night almost gone
Such beauty to behold magic moon lit moments …………
Autumn is my favorite season. Summer is too hot, winter too cold, spring too rainy, but autumn is just right. When I was growing up, I enjoyed kicking leaves, walking to school by myself, hearing them crunch underfoot. I even liked to rake leaves, but, shh, don’t tell my dad. Continue reading
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