This is an adaptation of the story “Ollie is Scared” by Andrea Kaczmarek, originally published here.

It was created by Marianne Lois Boncolmo, a multimedia arts student from the Philippines, currently working on her undergraduate thesis about Creating a Persuasive Interactive Digital Picture Book for School Aged Children.

In line with her study, she adapted the original story to illustrate and design an interactive storybook about cyberbullying.

Thank you to Marianne Lois Boncolmo for sharing it with our readers!

© 2021

Andrea Kaczmarek /Marianne Lois Boncolmo / Storyberries

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Bullying, Conversation

1. Do you think online bullying is as bad as physical bullying? Why or why not?

2. Have you ever been bullied online, or seen someone bullied online? What did you do?

3. If someone bullied you online today, what would you do?

Bedtime Story written by Andrea Kaczmarek

Adapted and illustrated by Marianne Lois Boncolmo.

Music video by Devonshire Waltz Allegretto Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Bleeping Demo” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com), “Neon Laser Horizon” Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com) Licensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 License http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Ollie is Scared! | A Cyber-Bullying Story | Bedtime Stories

Ollie is being bullied online. What can he do?

URL: https://www.storyberries.com/bedtime-stories-ollie-is-scared-cyberbullying-adaptation-free-books/

Author: Andrea Kaczmarek

Editor's Rating:
4

The post Ollie is Scared! first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

“I don’t want to go to school today, I feel a bit sick…” Ollie told his Mom at breakfast.

Mom frowned. “Have you got a math test?”

“No, of course not.” Ollie pushed his cereal away. “I just feel sick.”

Ollie sometimes felt sick before school. Mom wondered why.

“If you have a school problem, just tell me about it…” His mother hugged him real tight. “When I was a little girl, sometimes the other children called me horrible names.”

Ollie looked up. “Why did they do that?”

“Some children can be mean, especially if they don’t feel so good about themselves.” Mom looked at Ollie. “Is that your problem, maybe?”

Ollie took a long time to answer. “Yes, it is. How did you guess?” A tear ran down his cheek.

“Because you often feel sick before school, so, Moms guess these things…”

“They call me Itsy-Bitsy Ollie, Mini-Me, mean things like that. Now all the other kids call me things, too. Just because I’m a bit small. And the first two now often shove me about as well… and it hurts.”

Mom was quiet, but then asked, “Did you tell your teacher?”

“No, of course not; that would make them worse, I know it…”

“Bullying is wrong, Ollie. Maybe we can talk to your teacher together; would that be OK?”

Ollie had to think for a long time; he didn’t like the idea at all.

“It will make things worse…” he frowned. But then he thought it was worth a try.

Ollie and his Mom met up with Ollie’s teacher after school, with nobody around. Ollie’s teacher was happy that Ollie told her all about the nasty bullying…

“I had an idea that something was going on…” Ollie’s teacher told them. “But the important thing is, Ollie, that you tell a grown-up. First your Mom, and then me.”

The next day at school, Ollie’s teacher told the class: “A lot of schools have No Bullying Projects, and with ALL your help, I’d like to start one in our school. What do you think? Will all you children help me?”

Ollie’s teacher started their project in Art Class: Speak Up – Stand Up! ALL the children agreed that the rules were good:

1. Tell a grown up if you see bullying.
2. Stand Up for others.

They did paintings of the rules, and they made badges.

“It’s really quite easy,” all the children agreed.

Nobody ever knew that it was because Ollie and his Mom talked to the teacher. But now their school is a much nicer place for ALL the children: name-calling stopped, and, that’s how it should be!    

© Andrea Kaczmarek / Storyberries 2021

Poem for Kids written by Andrea Kaczmarek

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Bullying, Independent Thinking, Conversation

1. Ollie’s Mom says that bullying is bad. Why is bullying bad?

2. Have you ever been bullied? How did it make you feel?

2. Why do you think people bully one another?

3. Ollie’s teacher came up with two good rules around preventing bullying at school. Can you think of some more?

The post Ollie is Scared first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

“We’re going to stop feeding you,” Mum said.

“I understand,” I replied.

“Don’t worry, Harry. These things don’t last too long,” said Dad.

“We know you’re a good boy,” added Mum. “But lots of kids aren’t. And the whole point of a strike is that the strikers stick together.”

Mum and Dad’s eyes met. They nodded to one another. Dad looked around, beckoned me closer, and closed my hand around a ten-dollar note.

“Here,” he said softly. “Just don’t let on it was me that gave you that.”

Arriving at school that first morning, the atmosphere was more hostile than usual. News of the parent strike had obviously not gone down well. The principal stood at the gate, flanked by security guards.

‘Morning,’ he greeted each child robotically. The replies he received were not very kind.

Our teacher attempted to explain the situation to our class, about a general lack of gratitude in the younger generation and rampant levels of disrespect and hooliganism. But none of the kids were having it.

“They supposed to feed us, that’s their job.”

“Yeah, it’s not our fault they borned us.”

“Anyway, I don’t care. Now I get ta have whateva I want.”

By lunchtime, I was starving. But the canteen’s shutters were pulled down and locked. There was a mum taping up a sign.

“Excuse me, any chance of lunch?” I asked.

She looked down her crinkled nose at me.

“Not from here there’s not. We’re parents too you know. Read the sign.”

I did. It read:

CANTEEN CLOSED!
NO FOOD TILL YA
LEARN SOME RESPECT!!!

I sighed, resigned myself to a grumbly tummy, and went behind the portables to read my book. I liked that spot because it was quiet, and a long way from the handball courts where my worst enemy, Shannon and her friends usually hung out. But today, I was interrupted. They were there. I ducked behind the boulder I’d been sitting on.

“What’s that filth?” came Shannon’s derisive voice.

“What? It’s a mandarin sandwich,” Shannon’s henchperson, Blake, replied defensively.

“Gross. What’s that red stuff on it?” whined Kirby, henchperson number two.

“Tomato sauce.”

“Eww!”

“What’ve you got then, Kirby?” Blake asked, diverting the attention.

“Hot dog,” she stated, voice faltering.

“You’re lucky! Come on then, show us.”

There was the sound of a lunch box opening, then raucous cackling.

“That’s a banana on a piece of lettuce,” Shannon howled.

“Yeah, well… I didn’t have any bread. Or sausages.”

I knelt on a twig and it snapped loudly. Their voices went quiet. I wished for them to disappear back to the handball courts.

“Harriet!” Shannon hissed. “She’s been listening in.”

“It’s Harry,” I replied feebly, “And no, I have not.”

Shannon’s smirk broadened and her eyes narrowed.

“I’m such a genius,” she gloated, walking around behind me. “I’ve just come up with a brilliant way to survive this strike.”

She took hold of my arm and twisted it behind my back.

“We’ll share Harriet’s food.”

She wrenched on my arm and my shoulder burned.

“I don’t have any,” I spluttered.

“He’s lying. Hand it over, Bum Breath.”

I considered explaining Dad’s canteen money but thought better of it.

“I can’t,” I stuttered, “I… I ate it already.”

Shannon pushed me forward onto my hands and knees.

“Must have been good then,” she said. “Seems like we got a Masterchef on our hands. Tell you what, you bring us lunch tomorrow, something gourmet… we’ll give you this back.”

She held up a ten-dollar note. My hand went to my pocket: it was empty. She nodded and laughed. They wandered away giggling as I brushed the dirt from my knees.

My stomach was in a knot for the rest of the day. If I didn’t give Shannon what she wanted I wouldn’t get Dad’s money back. And if I told anyone, I’d expose Dad for breaking the terms of the strike. I was stuck.

As soon as I got home, I emptied my moneybox and rode to the supermarket. It was a wild scene when I arrived. Everything, besides the fruit, vegetables and health food aisle, had been roped off. A sizeable security squad had been employed to prevent kids from accessing the other sections. A rowdy mob mouthed off at the guards and taunted any adults entering the forbidden zones.

In fresh produce, the scene was even more chaotic. Desperation had whipped up a panic buying frenzy. Kids were grabbing whatever they could, snatching food from others’ hands, and fending predators off their trolleys.

“What’s this?” one kid asked, holding up a zucchini.

“I dunno,” his sister responded, shoving it in her basket, “But we gotta eat.”

At home, I laid what I’d managed to get on the kitchen bench. It was a strange hodgepodge of ingredients, but they would have to do. I set to work.

I pushed my culinary skills further than ever before, but the dish was missing something. I searched for a morsel, but the pantry was locked and the fridge alarmed, as per strike regulations. Then it came to me; there was more food in the house.

From the cupboard beneath the sink, I pulled out a can of Meowies cat food – Ocean Banquet in Jelly. I prised off the lid. The fishy pulp glistened. Its pungent aroma nuzzled my gag reflex. As she’s inclined to, my cat, Smokey appeared. She mewed and wound round my legs.

“Hey Smokey, wanna taste?”

I proffered the open can long enough for a few good licks and a couple of gobfuls. I mixed the cat saliva in with a fork then dumped the can’s contents into the dish. My creation was complete.

“OK disaster-chef, show us what you got. And it better be good,” Shannon demanded at lunchtime the following day.

I sat with my lunchbox on my lap. They crowded round like three starving vultures. I peeled off the lid revealing my nutritious masterpiece.

“What even is that?” Blake squealed.

“Smoked tuna and quinoa salad with chickpeas, currants and cashews.”

Kirby grabbed her stomach and made retching sounds.

“Is this a joke?” Shannon asked.

“No, I was up all night making this. It’s gourmet, that’s what you asked for.”

She eyed the lunchbox and me suspiciously.

“It’s delicious. I promise,” I enthused.

“Prove it then,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You go first. Take a bite.”

I looked at the salad, then back at Shannon.

“I can’t,” I murmured.

“Why not?”

“I – I’m allergic to cashews.”

Shannon frowned. She took Dad’s ten-dollar note from her pocket and held it up.

“If this stuff turns out to be anything less than the scrummiest thing ever tasted, your ten bucks won’t be the only thing you lose.”

A hand snatched the note from Shannon’s fingers. She spun around to come face to face with a wall of adults – the principal and two mountainous bodyguards.

“Thank you young lady, I’ll take that,” the principal said. He pointed at my lunchbox. “And that too.”

I stood and handed it over.

“Now, the four of you… to my office. Pronto.”

The next hour was spent waiting silently in the corridor, under guard. One by one, my enemies were taken in for interrogation, and emerged later, bleary eyed and shaken.

Shannon was in there the longest. When she came out, she was saltier than the Dead Sea. If the bodyguard had not dragged her away, her seething stare would have bored a hole through my forehead.

The principal’s office was dim, reeked of coffee breath and was taken up mostly by his leather-topped desk, on which lay Dad’s ten-dollars.

“Is this yours?” he asked, indicating the note with an eye flick.

I shook my head.

“Be honest now.”

He stood motionless; eyes locked on mine in a dangerous game of chicken. His penetrating gaze put Shannon’s deathly stare to shame. He was the heavyweight champion of stares and I wasn’t even a puny featherweight. I broke. I nodded meekly.

“Who gave you this?”

“Please sir, it was my dad, but he…”

He held up a hand.

“As I expected.”

He waggled a finger and tutted.
“It was a grave misjudgement, on your father’s part, flaunting the parental strike rules by aiding a minor.” He sighed dramatically.  “But what makes matters worse, is that we seem to have a case of like-father-like-son. Your little friends told me everything.”

“But… but sir, I…”

His hand went up again. He walked slowly round the desk to the door, peered down the corridor in both directions, then closed it with a soft click. He moved back behind the desk, then slid Dad’s money toward me.

“Take it,” he whispered.

I looked at his stony face. Was this some sort of test?

“You heard me.”

I took the note and shoved it in my pocket.

The principal opened a drawer and took out my lunchbox. He placed it on the desk where the note had been. I looked inside. The salad was gone.

“That,” he said, “was possibly the most delicious culinary delight I have ever had the pleasure of tasting.”

© Michael Morell 2020

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORY ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Bullying, Conversation

1. In the story, Harry is forced to hand over his lunch to bully Shannon. Can you think of some ways that Harry could have stopped Shannon’s bullying?

2. What would you do if you were bullied at school?

Short Story for Kids written by Michael Morell

Illustrations from Pixabay and purchased on license.

The post Parent Strike! first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

This is a vintage fairy tale, and contains violence. We would encourage parents to read beforehand  if your child is sensitive to such themes.

At Dalton, near Thirsk, in Yorkshire, there is a mill. It has quite recently been rebuilt; but when I was at Dalton, six years ago, the old building stood. In front of the house was a long mound which went by the name of “the giant’s grave,” and in the mill you can see a long blade of iron something like a scythe-blade, but not curved, which was called “the giant’s knife,” because of a very curious story which is told of this knife. Would you like to hear it? Well, it isn’t very long.

There once lived a giant at this mill who had only one eye in the middle of his forehead, and he ground men’s bones to make his bread. One day he captured on Pilmoor a lad named Jack, and instead of grinding him in the mill he kept him grinding as his servant, and never let him get away. Jack served the giant seven years, and never was allowed a holiday the whole time. At last he could bear it no longer. Topcliffe fair was coming on, and Jack begged that he might be allowed to go there.

“No, no,” said the giant, “stop at home and mind your grinding.”

“I’ve been grinding and grinding these seven years,” said Jack, “and not a holiday have I had. I’ll have one now, whatever you say.”

“We’ll see about that,” said the giant.

Well, the day was hot, and after dinner the giant lay down in the mill with his head on a sack and dozed. He had been eating in the mill, and had laid down a great loaf of bone bread by his side, and the knife I told you about was in his hand, but his fingers relaxed their hold of it in sleep. Jack seized the knife, and holding it with both his hands drove the blade into the single eye of the giant, who woke with a howl of agony, and starting up, barred the door. Jack was again in difficulties, for he couldn’t get out, but he soon found a way out of them. The giant had a favourite coat, which had also been on the ground when his master was blinded. So Jack threw the hide over his back which looked like the giant’s dog, although his dog was asleep outside in the sun.

“Bow, wow,” says Jack.

“At him, Truncheon,” said the giant; “at the little wretch that I’ve fed these seven years, and now has blinded me.”

“Bow, wow,” says Jack, and ran between the giant’s legs on all-fours, barking till he got to the door. He unlatched it and was off, and never more was seen at Dalton Mill.

ENGLISH FAIRY TALES EDITED BY JOSEPH JACOBS.

Let’s Chat About The Stories ~ Ideas for Talking With Kids

Bullying, Fairness

1. In the story the giant was a bully and made Jack work for 7 long years without a holiday, which made Jack very angry. Do you think the giant was fair to do this? Why or why not?
2. Do you think the giant was a bully towards Jack? Why or why not?
3. Do you think there is a difference between being a bully, and being unfair? What might some differences be?

Independent Thinking

1. Jack was sick of being treated unfairly and made a successful escape from the giant. However, he was violent towards the giant in escaping him. Can you think of some other ways that Jack might have escaped from the giant without being violent?

The post The Blinded Giant first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Visit Storyberries Bookstore

SHORT STORY FOR KIDS WRITTEN BY ZANELE DLAMINI

ILLUSTRATED BY SELINA MORULANE

DESIGNED BY SIBUSISO MKHWANAZI

EDITED BY GLYNIS LLOYD

* THE STORY ‘THE RAINBOW CLOUD’ WAS CREATED BY BOOK DASH AND IS LICENSED UNDER A CREATIVE COMMONS ATTRIBUTION 4.0 LICENSE. MINOR FORMATTING CHANGES HAVE BEEN MADE TO THE ORIGINAL WORK FOR EASE OF READING ON OUR WEBSITE.

LET’S DISCUSS THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

Bullying

1. Do you think it was right for the boy to say that he would not play with Mkabayi because she was cursed? How did his words make Mkabayi feel?

2. What are some other things that Mkabayi could have done to feel better after she was bullied by the boy?

3. Mmama protected her sister from the nasty boy by using rainbows. If rainbows symbolise doing something nice, how might you protect your sister or brother in real life by using ‘rainbows’?

Family

1. Why do you think it’s important for family’s to stick together?

The post The Rainbow Cloud first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

SHORT STORY FOR KIDS WRITTEN BY CLAIRE INGRAM

ILLUSTRATED BY LWANDO XASO

DESIGNED BY ARTHUR ATTWELL

* THE STORY ‘SIMA AND SIZA’ WAS CREATED BY BOOK DASH AND IS LICENSED UNDER A CREATIVE COMMONS ATTRIBUTION 4.0 LICENSE. MINOR FORMATTING CHANGES HAVE BEEN MADE TO THE ORIGINAL WORK TO ENABLE IT TO BE READ ON OUR WEBSITE.

LET’S CHAT ABOUT THE STORIES ~ IDEAS FOR TALKING WITH KIDS

 
Bullying, Friendship 

1. Can you think of some reasons why Sima’s friends did not like Siza?

2. Was it right of Sima’s friends to put Siza’s head down the toilet? Why or why not?

3. Do you think this is the way that people should behave to their friends? If not, what are some other ways in which they could have behaved, even if they didn’t like Siza?

Helping 

1. Sima was able to help his injured father when the ball hit him on the head. Why was he able to do this?

2. Why do you think Sima’s father plays hospital-hospital with Sima now?

Gender 

1. Do you think both boys and girls should be able to play with dolls? Why or why not?

The post Sima and Siza first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Now there happened to be a dense forest near their village, and this they reached early one morning. In it there lived three notorious robbers, of whose existence the traders had never heard, and while they were still in the middle of it the robbers stood before them, with swords and cudgels in their hands, and ordered them to lay down all they had. The traders had no weapons with them, and so, though they were many more in number, they had to submit themselves to the robbers, who took away everything from them, even the very clothes they wore, and gave to each only a small loin-cloth a span in breadth and a cubit in length.

The idea that they had conquered ten men and plundered all their property, now took possession of the robbers’ minds. They seated themselves like three monarchs before the men they had plundered, and ordered them to dance for them before returning home. The merchants now mourned their fate. They had lost all they had, except their loin-cloth, and still the robbers were not satisfied, but ordered them to dance.

There was, among the ten merchants, one who was very clever. He pondered over the calamity that had come upon him and his friends, the dance they would have to perform, and the magnificent manner in which the three robbers had seated themselves on the grass. At the same time he observed that these last had placed their weapons on the ground, in the assurance of having thoroughly cowed the traders, who were now commencing to dance. So he took the lead in the dance, and, as a song is always sung by the leader on such occasions, to which the rest keep time with hands and feet, he thus began to sing:

“We are enty men,
They are erith men:
If each erith man,
Surround eno men
Eno man remains.
Tâ, tai, tôm, tadingana.”

The robbers were all uneducated, and thought that the leader was merely singing a song as usual. So it was in one sense; for the leader commenced from a distance, and had sung the song over twice before he and his companions commenced to approach the robbers. They had understood his meaning, because they had been trained in trade.

When two traders discuss the price of an article in the presence of a purchaser, they use a riddling sort of language.

“What is the price of this cloth?” one trader will ask another.

“Enty rupees,” another will reply, meaning “ten rupees.”

Thus, there is no possibility of the purchaser knowing what is meant unless he be acquainted with trade language. By the rules of this secret language erith means “three,” enty means “ten,” and eno means “one.” So the leader by his song meant to hint to his fellow-traders that they were ten men, the robbers only three, that if three pounced upon each of the robbers, nine of them could hold them down, while the remaining one bound the robbers’ hands and feet.

The three thieves, glorying in their victory, and little understanding the meaning of the song and the intentions of the dancers, were proudly seated chewing betel and tobacco. Meanwhile the song was sung a third time. Tâ tai tôm had left the lips of the singer; and, before tadingana was out of them, the traders separated into parties of three, and each party pounced upon a thief. The remaining one—the leader himself—tore up into long narrow strips a large piece of cloth, six cubits long, and tied the hands and feet of the robbers. These were entirely humbled now, and rolled on the ground like three bags of rice!

The ten traders now took back all their property, and armed themselves with the swords and cudgels of their enemies; and when they reached their village, they often amused their friends and relatives by relating their adventure.

Short story for children edited by Joseph Jacobs

Let’s Chat About The Stories ~ Ideas for Talking With Kids

Independent Thinking; Bullying

1. The ten traders felt scared by the three robbers, and let them take all their belongings and make them dance when they didn’t want to. Do you think they were right to feel scared of the robbers, even though they were ten? Why or why not?

Communication

2. It was the merchant’s little song that helped the group escape the robbers. What do you think was the power in this song? What made it work so well in overcoming the bad robbers?

The post The Three Robbers first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

Though so very ugly, there was one faculty she possessed in a more remarkable degree than any woman of the tribe. It was that of singing. Nothing, unless such could be found in the land of spirits, could equal the sweetness of her voice or the beauty of her songs. Her favorite place of resort was a small hill, a little removed from the river of her people, and there, seated beneath the shady trees, she would while away the hours of summer with her charming songs. So beautiful and melodious were the things she uttered that, by the time she had sung a single sentence, the branches above her head would be filled with the birds that came thither to listen, the thickets around her would be crowded with beasts, and the waters rolling beside her would be alive with fishes, all attracted by the sweet sounds. From the minnow to the porpoise, from the wren to the eagle, from the snail to the lobster, from the mouse to the mole—all hastened to the spot to listen to the charming songs of the hideous Marshpee maiden.

Among the fishes which repaired every night to the vicinity of the Little Hillock, which was the chosen resting-place of the ugly songstress, was the great chief of the trouts, a tribe of fish inhabiting the river near by. The chief was of a far greater size than the people of his nation usually are, being as long as a man and quite as broad.

Of all the creatures which came to listen to the singing of Awashanks none appeared to enjoy it so highly as the chief of the trouts. As his bulk prevented him from approaching so near as he wished, he, from time to time, in his eagerness to enjoy the music to the best advantage, ran his nose into the ground, and thus worked his way a considerable distance into the land. Nightly he continued his exertions to approach the source of the delightful sounds he heard, till at length he had plowed out a wide and handsome channel, and so effected his passage from the river to the hill, a distance extending an arrow’s-flight. Thither he repaired every night at the commencement of darkness, sure to meet the maiden who had become so necessary to his happiness.

Soon he began to speak of the pleasure he enjoyed, and to fill the ears of Awashanks with fond protestations of his love and affection. Instead of singing to him, she now began to listen to his voice. It was something so new and strange to her to hear the tones of love and courtship, a thing so unusual to be told she was beautiful, that it is not wonderful her head was turned by the new incident, and that she began to think the voice of her lover the sweetest she had ever heard.

Only one thing marred their happiness. This was that the trout could not live upon land, nor the maiden in the water. This state of things gave them much sorrow.

They had met one evening at the usual place, and were discoursing together, lamenting that two who loved each other so, should be doomed always to live apart, when a man appeared close to Awashanks. He asked the lovers why they seemed to be so sad.

The chief of the trouts told the stranger the cause of their sorrow.

“Be not grieved nor hopeless,” said the stranger, when the chief had finished. “The impediments can be removed. I am the spirit who presides over fishes, and though I cannot make a man or woman of a fish, I can make them into fish. Under my power Awashanks shall become a beautiful trout.”

With that he bade the girl follow him into the river. When they had waded in some little depth he took up some water in his hand and poured it on her head, muttering some words, of which none but himself knew the meaning. Immediately a change took place in her. Her body took the form of a fish, and in a few moments she was a complete trout.

Having accomplished this transformation the spirit gave her to the chief of the trouts, and the pair glided off into the deep and quiet waters. She did not, however, forget the land of her birth. Every season, on the same night as that upon which her disappearance from her tribe had been wrought, there were to be seen two trouts of enormous size playing in the water off the shore. They continued their visits till the palefaces came to the country, when, deeming themselves to be in danger from a people who paid no reverence to the spirits of the land, they bade it adieu forever.

Short story for children by Unknown, Edited by Hamilton Wright Mabie, Edward Everett Hale, and William Byron Forbush

Let’s Chat About The Stories ~ Ideas for Talking With Kids

Bullying

1. The people at the beginning of the story used to laugh at the maiden Awashanks because she was ugly. Do you think this is a fair thing to do? Why or why not?

Beauty

2. Awashanks was said to be physically ugly but she had a beautiful singing voice. What does this say about what we think is beautiful?

Passion

3. The Chief of the Trouts loved music so much that he would listen to it every night. We could say that he was passionate about it. Do you have something that you are passionate about, that you think is beautiful and that you would love to do every day if you could? What is it?

The post The Maiden Who Loved A Fish first appeared on Bedtime Stories.

The little boy thought that a cake like the moon must be desirable, and on being assured by the big boy that he had made many such, he handed over his cake for manipulation.

The big boy took out a mouthful, leaving a crescent with jagged edge.

The little boy was not pleased by the change, and began to whimper; whereupon the big boy pacified him by saying that he would make the cake into a half-moon. So he nibbled off the horns of the crescent, and gnawed the edge smooth; but when the half-moon was made, the little boy perceived that there was hardly any cake left, and he again began to snivel.

The big boy again diverted him by telling him that, if he did not like so small a moon, he should have one that was just the size of the real orb. He then took the cake, and explained that, just before the new moon is seen, the old moon disappears. Then he swallowed the rest of the cake and ran off, leaving the little boy waiting for the new moon.

Short story for children by Unknown, Edited by Hamilton Wright Mabie, Edward Everett Hale, and William Byron Forbush

Illustrated adapted by Jade Maitre with thanks to Pixabay

Let’s Chat About The Stories ~ Ideas for Talking With Kids

Fairness

1. Do you think the big boy was fair to the little boy? Why or why not?

2. Do you think that smarter, stronger people have a responsibility to look after weaker people, or people who are still learning? What would happen if smarter, stronger people better looked after weaker or people who are still learning?

Bullying, Empathy

3. How do you think the big boy felt about eating the cake? What about the little boy – how do you think he felt?

4. Is there a possibility that the little boy lost more than his cake in this story? What other things might he have lost?

The post The Moon-Cake first appeared on Bedtime Stories.