Chapter 21

Enchanted StoryBook Part 2

The Girl Who Painted the Sky A Tale from JapanLong ago, in a village nestled between two mountains, there lived a girl named Hana who loved to paint. Every morning she rose before the sun and climbed to the highest hill with her brushes and her pots of color. She painted the clouds pink and gold, and the villagers below would look up and smile, believing the sky had dressed itself beautifully just for them.One autumn, a great gray dragon came and swallowed all the color from the world. The mountains turned ash white. The rivers ran silver and cold. The flowers forgot what shade they were. The villagers wept, for without color, they could not tell the ripe fruit from the unripe, the safe path from the dangerous one, or the morning from the night.Hana climbed to the dragon's cave high above the clouds. She did not bring a sword or a spell. She brought only her brushes and her paints.The dragon sat in the darkness, enormous and gray, surrounded by all the stolen colors swirling inside his belly like trapped butterflies."Why have you taken the color from the world?" Hana asked.The dragon turned his great head slowly. "Because no one ever painted me," he said, and his voice was very quiet for such a large creature. "I have lived a thousand years and no one has ever looked at me and found me beautiful."Hana sat down on the cold stone floor. She opened her paints. She looked at the dragon for a long time, studying the way the faint light caught the scales along his neck, the way his eyes held a deep and ancient sadness.Then she painted him. She painted him in deep indigo and forest green and the warm amber of old honey. She painted the dignity in his long spine and the wisdom in his ancient eyes. She painted him as he truly was, which was magnificent.When she finished, the dragon looked at the painting and was still for a very long time.Then he breathed out slowly, and all the colors of the world came rushing back, flooding down the mountain and into the valleys and rivers and fields below, brighter than they had ever been before.The dragon curled around the painting and slept, and he was never gray again.And Hana climbed back down the mountain, her brushes still wet with color, and the sky above her was the most beautiful it had ever been.The Tortoise and the River King A Tale from West AfricaIn the time before memory, when the animals still held councils and the rivers had names they told only to the fish, there was a great drought. The wells dried. The watering holes cracked open like old clay pots. The animals gathered at the edge of the great river and begged the River King to share his water.The River King was proud and ancient. He rose from the deep water in a robe of green and silver and looked down at the gathered animals."I will give water to the one who can answer my riddle," he said. "What is the thing that grows stronger the more you give it away?"The lion roared his answer: "Strength!" But the River King shook his head.The eagle cried from the sky: "Speed!" But the River King turned away.The elephant trumpeted: "Memory!" But the River King was silent.One by one the animals tried and failed. At last, old Tortoise, who had been sitting quietly at the back of the crowd, slowly made his way forward."I know the answer," said Tortoise.The animals laughed. What could slow, small Tortoise know that the great ones did not?"Tell me then," said the River King.Tortoise looked up at him without hurry. "Kindness," he said. "The more you give it away, the more it grows, in the one who gives and in the one who receives."The River King was silent for a long moment. Then he smiled, and it was like sunlight breaking through deep water."You are correct," he said. And he opened the river wide, and the water flowed out to every corner of the land, and the drought ended.From that day forward, Tortoise was given a seat at every council, not because he was the fastest or the strongest, but because he understood what truly mattered.And the animals never forgot the answer to the riddle.The Boy Who Listened to the Forest A Tale from the AmazonDeep in the great green forest where the trees grew so tall their tops touched the clouds, there lived a boy named Tupã who could not speak. He had never spoken a single word in all his seven years, and the other children sometimes forgot to include him in their games.But Tupã could listen better than anyone in the village. He could hear the difference between the wind that brought rain and the wind that brought nothing. He could hear when the river was rising before anyone else felt it. He could hear the forest breathing at night, slow and deep, like a sleeping giant.One dry season, a great fire started at the edge of the forest. The smoke rose in a black tower and the villagers ran to fight it with water and branches, but the fire was too fast and too hungry.Tupã stood very still at the edge of the village and listened.He heard the forest speaking in the language of crackling leaves and shifting air. He heard where the fire was going before it went there. He heard the one place where the earth was wet and deep, a hidden stream beneath the roots of the oldest trees.He ran to the village elder and pulled at her hand and pointed. She looked at him and then at the forest and then back at him."Show me," she said.Tupã led the villagers through the smoke to the hidden stream. They dug and dug until the water came up, and they carried it in every pot and gourd and bowl they had, and they stopped the fire before it reached the village.That night, the elder sat beside Tupã and said, "You have spoken more clearly today than anyone with words."Tupã smiled. And somewhere deep in the forest, the trees breathed out slowly, grateful and green.The Seamstress of Stars A Tale from ScandinaviaIn the far north, where the winter nights last so long that children are born and grow old in the dark, there lived an old woman named Sigrid who sewed the northern lights.Every evening she sat at her loom at the top of the world and wove the colors into the sky. Green for the sleeping forests. Blue for the frozen sea. Purple for the mountains dreaming under snow. And sometimes, when she was feeling particularly joyful, she added a thread of gold.One winter, a young boy named Erik climbed the long ice road to find her. He had walked for seven days and his boots were worn through and his fingers were numb."Please," he said, "my village has been dark for three months. The lights have not come. The children are afraid and the old people are sad and we have forgotten what color looks like."Sigrid looked at him over her loom. "The lights did not come," she said, "because someone in your village stopped looking up."Erik thought about this. "My father," he said slowly. "He lost his fishing boat in the storm. He has not looked up since."Sigrid nodded. She reached into her basket and pulled out a single thread of the brightest gold he had ever seen. She handed it to him."Give this to your father," she said. "Tell him it is a thread from the sky, and that the sky has not forgotten him."Erik carried the golden thread all the way home. He placed it in his father's hand without a word.His father looked at it for a long time. Then he walked outside and looked up.That night, the northern lights came back, greener and brighter than they had ever been, and they danced above the village until morning.Sigrid, at her loom at the top of the world, smiled and added an extra thread of gold.The Merchant's Daughter and the Clever Djinn A Tale from the Middle EastOnce in a city of white walls and blue tiles, there lived a merchant who had three daughters. The eldest was clever with numbers. The middle was clever with words. The youngest, whose name was Zara, was clever with questions.One day a djinn appeared in the marketplace in the shape of an old man selling nothing at all. He told the merchant he would grant one wish to whichever daughter could ask him a question he could not answer.The eldest daughter asked: "What is the largest number in the world?" The djinn smiled and named a number so large it took three days to say aloud.The middle daughter asked: "What is the most beautiful word in any language?" The djinn smiled and spoke a word in a language no one had ever heard, and it was so beautiful that everyone who heard it wept.Then Zara stepped forward. She thought for a moment, and then she asked: "What question do you most wish someone would ask you?"The djinn went very still. He looked at Zara for a long time. No one had ever asked him that before, in all his thousands of years."I wish," he said at last, very quietly, "that someone would ask me if I am lonely.""Are you lonely?" Zara asked.The djinn sat down on the ground right there in the marketplace, and for the first time in a thousand years, he told the truth.He and Zara talked all afternoon. She asked him about the places he had seen and the centuries he had lived through and the things he had loved and lost. And he answered every question, because she was the first person who had ever truly wanted to know.When the sun set, the djinn stood and bowed to her."YouGood evening! Here's your collection of original children's fairy tales from around the world.A Treasury of Children's Fairy Tales from Around the WorldThe Girl Who Painted the Sky A Tale from JapanLong ago, in a village nestled between two mountains, there lived a girl named Hana who loved to paint. Every morning she rose before the sun and climbed to the highest hill with her brushes and her pots of color. She painted the clouds pink and gold, and the villagers below would look up and smile, believing the sky had dressed itself beautifully just for them.One autumn, a great gray dragon came and swallowed all the color from the world. The mountains turned ash white. The rivers ran silver and cold. The flowers forgot what shade they were. The villagers wept, for without color, they could not tell the ripe fruit from the unripe, the safe path from the dangerous one, or the morning from the night.Hana climbed to the dragon's cave high above the clouds. She did not bring a sword or a spell. She brought only her brushes and her paints.The dragon sat in the darkness, enormous and gray, surrounded by all the stolen colors swirling inside his belly like trapped butterflies."Why have you taken the color from the world?" Hana asked.The dragon turned his great head slowly. "Because no one ever painted me," he said, and his voice was very quiet for such a large creature. "I have lived a thousand years and no one has ever looked at me and found me beautiful."Hana sat down on the cold stone floor. She opened her paints. She looked at the dragon for a long time, studying the way the faint light caught the scales along his neck, the way his eyes held a deep and ancient sadness.Then she painted him. She painted him in deep indigo and forest green and the warm amber of old honey. She painted the dignity in his long spine and the wisdom in his ancient eyes. She painted him as he truly was, which was magnificent.When she finished, the dragon looked at the painting and was still for a very long time.Then he breathed out slowly, and all the colors of the world came rushing back, flooding down the mountain and into the valleys and rivers and fields below, brighter than they had ever been before.The dragon curled around the painting and slept, and he was never gray again.And Hana climbed back down the mountain, her brushes still wet with color, and the sky above her was the most beautiful it had ever been.The Tortoise and the River King A Tale from West AfricaIn the time before memory, when the animals still held councils and the rivers had names they told only to the fish, there was a great drought. The wells dried. The watering holes cracked open like old clay pots. The animals gathered at the edge of the great river and begged the River King to share his water.The River King was proud and ancient. He rose from the deep water in a robe of green and silver and looked down at the gathered animals."I will give water to the one who can answer my riddle," he said. "What is the thing that grows stronger the more you give it away?"The lion roared his answer: "Strength!" But the River King shook his head.The eagle cried from the sky: "Speed!" But the River King turned away.The elephant trumpeted: "Memory!" But the River King was silent.One by one the animals tried and failed. At last, old Tortoise, who had been sitting quietly at the back of the crowd, slowly made his way forward."I know the answer," said Tortoise.The animals laughed. What could slow, small Tortoise know that the great ones did not?"Tell me then," said the River King.Tortoise looked up at him without hurry. "Kindness," he said. "The more you give it away, the more it grows, in the one who gives and in the one who receives."The River King was silent for a long moment. Then he smiled, and it was like sunlight breaking through deep water."You are correct," he said. And he opened the river wide, and the water flowed out to every corner of the land, and the drought ended.From that day forward, Tortoise was given a seat at every council, not because he was the fastest or the strongest, but because he understood what truly mattered.And the animals never forgot the answer to the riddle.The Boy Who Listened to the Forest A Tale from the AmazonDeep in the great green forest where the trees grew so tall their tops touched the clouds, there lived a boy named Tupã who could not speak. He had never spoken a single word in all his seven years, and the other children sometimes forgot to include him in their games.But Tupã could listen better than anyone in the village. He could hear the difference between the wind that brought rain and the wind that brought nothing. He could hear when the river was rising before anyone else felt it. He could hear the forest breathing at night, slow and deep, like a sleeping giant.One dry season, a great fire started at the edge of the forest. The smoke rose in a black tower and the villagers ran to fight it with water and branches, but the fire was too fast and too hungry.Tupã stood very still at the edge of the village and listened.He heard the forest speaking in the language of crackling leaves and shifting air. He heard where the fire was going before it went there. He heard the one place where the earth was wet and deep, a hidden stream beneath the roots of the oldest trees.He ran to the village elder and pulled at her hand and pointed. She looked at him and then at the forest and then back at him."Show me," she said.Tupã led the villagers through the smoke to the hidden stream. They dug and dug until the water came up, and they carried it in every pot and gourd and bowl they had, and they stopped the fire before it reached the village.That night, the elder sat beside Tupã and said, "You have spoken more clearly today than anyone with words."Tupã smiled. And somewhere deep in the forest, the trees breathed out slowly, grateful and green.The Seamstress of Stars A Tale from ScandinaviaIn the far north, where the winter nights last so long that children are born and grow old in the dark, there lived an old woman named Sigrid who sewed the northern lights.Every evening she sat at her loom at the top of the world and wove the colors into the sky. Green for the sleeping forests. Blue for the frozen sea. Purple for the mountains dreaming under snow. And sometimes, when she was feeling particularly joyful, she added a thread of gold.One winter, a young boy named Erik climbed the long ice road to find her. He had walked for seven days and his boots were worn through and his fingers were numb."Please," he said, "my village has been dark for three months. The lights have not come. The children are afraid and the old people are sad and we have forgotten what color looks like."Sigrid looked at him over her loom. "The lights did not come," she said, "because someone in your village stopped looking up."Erik thought about this. "My father," he said slowly. "He lost his fishing boat in the storm. He has not looked up since."Sigrid nodded. She reached into her basket and pulled out a single thread of the brightest gold he had ever seen. She handed it to him."Give this to your father," she said. "Tell him it is a thread from the sky, and that the sky has not forgotten him."Erik carried the golden thread all the way home. He placed it in his father's hand without a word.His father looked at it for a long time. Then he walked outside and looked up.That night, the northern lights came back, greener and brighter than they had ever been, and they danced above the village until morning.Sigrid, at her loom at the top of the world, smiled and added an extra thread of gold.The Merchant's Daughter and the Clever Djinn A Tale from the Middle EastOnce in a city of white walls and blue tiles, there lived a merchant who had three daughters. The eldest was clever with numbers. The middle was clever with words. The youngest, whose name was Zara, was clever with questions.One day a djinn appeared in the marketplace in the shape of an old man selling nothing at all. He told the merchant he would grant one wish to whichever daughter could ask him a question he could not answer.The eldest daughter asked: "What is the largest number in the world?" The djinn smiled and named a number so large it took three days to say aloud.The middle daughter asked: "What is the most beautiful word in any language?" The djinn smiled and spoke a word in a language no one had ever heard, and it was so beautiful that everyone who heard it wept.Then Zara stepped forward. She thought for a moment, and then she asked: "What question do you most wish someone would ask you?"The djinn went very still. He looked at Zara for a long time. No one had ever asked him that before, in all his thousands of years."I wish," he said at last, very quietly, "that someone would ask me if I am lonely.""Are you lonely?" Zara asked.The djinn sat down on the ground right there in the marketplace, and for the first time in a thousand years, he told the truth.He and Zara talked all afternoon. She asked him about the places he had seen and the centuries he had lived through and the things he had loved and lost. And he answered every question, because she was the first person who had ever truly wanted to know.When the sun set, the djinn stood and bowed to her."You