How do you like yours?

I love stories! Stories in all of their disguises; sharing a bedtime story with my girls, reading a great novel, writing a characters story, reading a story to a class visiting the library. But my favourite way to enjoy a story by far is to simply listen.

Last weekend we got to visit Settle Storytelling Festival and we had so much fun. We bought magic beans, hunted story tellers and exchanged our beans for stories. We ate cakes and bought notebooks and gloves at the makers market. We even had fun in a yarn maze before finishing with more amazing tales.

What I loved about the festival is they prove that sharing stories is not just a venture for children, it's for us grown ups too!

There was only one downside to the weekend. Part of the festival was a competition to write a story on a postcard which could have been picked as part of an exhibition on festival weekend. And yes, you guessed it...the story I wrote and posted did not get chosen. However on the bright-side it does mean I can share it with you guys now.

original image found here and was the inspiration for my story.

The Cottage

Water oozed around Guin’s fingers as she pressed them into the moss covering the derelict cottage. Curiosity tingled though her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Tilting her head to the right she let the barriers in her mind drop.

As she opened her eyes, the dream-like images of a life long forgotten began to take shape around her.

A young man carries his bride over the threshold. The young woman is beautiful, her red hair glowing in the evening light as she waits for him to return. The axe thuds to the floor, her giggle rings out like a peal of bells as he picks her up and swings her in a circle. The seasons pass, their love grows as they gain laughter lines around their eyes. But sorrow begins to haunt the woman’s smile, a suffocating longing for lives that will never be. Slowly the couple accept their life alone and grow old and happy together. The no longer young man still dotes on his wife, bringing her wildflowers every day of summer, their sweet sent drifting on the breeze.

But the winter is cold, too cold. The couple gets into bed for the last time, locked in the same loving embrace. Then nature creeps in to reclaim the lovers and their house, a tree growing up around their bed.

Guin knelt shivering on the warm forest floor. Looking at the damp moss where her hand lay, crying for the beautiful life with no witness but her. Today, being an empath was a gift.

So how do you like yours? Are you a listener, a writer or do you have a story to tell?

A little parting tune because his voice is yummy!!

Day 21 NaBloPoMo December - Happy Yule

 

So technically not a fairy tale, however this is my all time favourite story at Christmas, and I love Christmas stories therefore you get to share it with me. I love nothing more on Christmas Eve than to curl up in bed with the munchkins and read this story before the go to bed!

 

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863)

 

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the houseNot a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

 

 

 

What is your favourite Christmas story?