Tales for all

Tales for All (Film) - TV Tropes

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Tales for All, in French Contes pour tous, is a long-running series of French-Canadian children and young adult films by producer Rock Demers. Most of the films are unrelated to one another, with only two of them (The Dog who Stopped the War and Tommy Tricker and the Stamp Traveller) getting actual sequels. In general, the movies tend to feature one form or another of a Coming of Age Story; some are down-to-earth fare, some are unabashed fantasies.

The movies have enjoyed varied receptions, ranging from forgettable to excellent; some of the earlier films are considered cult classics in Quebec (and the very first of them, The Dog Who Stopped the War/La Guerre des tuques, is not so much a cult-classic as a generation-defining film).

The series includes (so far) over twenty films: the full list can be found on that other wiki. Works with their own trope pages include:

The Peanut Butter Solution

Animated Adaptation/The Remake: La Guerre des tuques got a CG adaptation many years later, called Snowtime.
Annoying Younger Sibling:
- François' younger brother. He wanted to join his brother in their snowball war, but an annoyed François keeps turning him away. Luc take advantage of this by recruiting François's brother for the last battle.
- On the other hand, Lucie, Sophie's little sister, is far from annoying and helps the gang.
As Himself: Vincent and Me, centered on Vincent van Gogh, featured the last person to have known van Gogh alive, Jeanne Calment, as herself, then 114 years old.
Asian and Nerdy: François in The Dog who Stopped the War. He wears glasses and designed the fort by drawing a blueprint.
Bilingual Bonus: All of François' rants in Vietnamese.
Bittersweet Ending: In The Dog Who Stopped the War, Cleo, the titular dog, ends up caught up in the big snowball war and one of the towers of the snow fortress collapses on her, killing her. This causes everyone to come to their senses of what they have done and sadly bury Cleo in the barn. On the bright side, the movie ends with the kids tearing down the fortress and laughing as they all run away, both sides having come together as friends once again.
Butt-Monkey: Marcel in The Tadpole and the Whale. The poor guy has a strong attraction to water in many comical ways.
Canon Discontinuity: In the epilogue of Tommy Tricker and the Stamp Traveller, Ralph claims that Charles Merriweather was freed from his stamp and went on to live with Mr. Bronson. The Return of Tommy Tricker completely disregards all this, and reveals that the boy in the stamp was actually Charles' sister, Molly.
Children Are Innocent: Subverted in The Dog Who Stopped the War. Their ongoing snowball war reveals the not-so-nice side of the involved children, and while their coming of age doesn't make them innocent, it does bring out their better qualities.
Cool Pet: In The Dog Who Stopped The War we have Cleo, Pierre's Saint Bernard, who is beloved by all of the kids in the neighborhood. The dog's titular action was to be fatally injured as collateral damage of the kids' snowball war, making them all come back to their senses.
Cirque du Soleil: The Great Land of Small includes performers from the then-fledgling company (at that point, they hadn't mounted productions beyond Canada) to add color to a Magical Land.
Death by Newbery Medal: The Dog Who Stopped the War. Guess how?

Frozen in Time: In Tommy Tricker and the Stamp Traveller, when you're inside a stamp you stop aging until you're release.
Invasion of the Baby Snatchers: Many children are kidnapped in The Peanut Butter Solution including the lead character, Michael. Understandably, parents are worried sick.
Kids Are Cruel: In The Peanut Butter Solution, Michael eventually don a wig when he loses his hair. Unfortunately, during a soccer match, another boy ripped his wig off. Everyone laughed at him, even his teammates (well except his friend Connie). Michael ran away back home while the other kids ran after him and taunted him mercilessly. The poor boy broke down crying in his bed.
Malicious Misnaming: François is always referred by the moniker "glasses" as a way to insult his nerdy appearance.
Out of Focus: Ralph in The Return of Tommy Tricker. In Tommy Tricker and the Stamp Traveller, he's the stamp traveller. As for sequel, but he's just kinda... there. Nancy and Albert get considerably more to do, while Ralph doesn't really contribute very much.
Phantom-Zone Picture: Stamp-travelling is a form of this. After shrinking yourself into the image on a stamp, the letter with the stamp must be mailed successfully and then opened. This is the only way to escape from the stamp.
Product Placement: Skippy peanut butter paid for prominent product placement in the film The Peanut Butter Solution.
Ridiculously Fast Construction: The snow fort in The Dog who Stopped the War. Christmas vacation only last for two weeks and the fort somehow get raised by five kids almost overnight.
Running Gag: In The Tadpole and the Whale, Marcel keeps getting wet, either by falling in water or getting splashed.
Serious Business: In The Dog Who Stopped The War, the titular conflict is a snowball war between the neighborhood kids with the ownership of a large snow fort as stakes. As expected of this trope, things get way out of hand, and it takes the fort collapsing on, and fatally injuring, Cleo (the titular dog) for the kids to finally get how stupid they are acting.
The Smurfette Principle: France is the only girl in Luc's gang.
Spoiler Title: The Dog Who Stopped the War. The original French title La Guerre des tuques (roughly "The War of the Knitted Caps") isn't spoiling anything however.
Star-Crossed Lovers: Luc and Sophie falls for one and another despite being on opposite sides of their snowball war.
Token Minority:
- In The Dog Who Stopped the War, François and his little brother are the only non-Caucasian of the movie.
- Connie and his little sister are the only Token Minority in The Peanut Butter Solution.
Zerg Rush: Luc's final move is recruiting all the neighborhood's children and sending them in a massive attack against the fort.

Tales for All | FCIT

Lesson Plans from ReadWriteThink

Teaching About Story Structure Using Fairy Tales by Deborah Kozdras, Ph.D.
Grades K-2: Stories and poems that have a familiar structure can create a supportive context for learning about the writing process, building students’ background knowledge, and scaffolding their creation of original stories. In this lesson for students in second or late first grade, teachers help students explore the concepts of beginning, middle, and ending by reading a variety of stories and charting the events on storyboards. As they retell the stories, students are encouraged to make use of sequencing words (first, so, then, next, after that, finally). A read-aloud of Once Upon a Golden Apple by Jean Little and Maggie De Vries introduces a discussion of the choices made by an author in constructing a plot. Starting with prewriting questions and a storyboard, students construct original stories, progressing from shared writing to guided writing; independent writing is also encouraged.

Pourquoi Stories: Creating Tales to Tell Why by Elizabeth Nolan Conners
Grades 3-5: Read-alouds of The Story of Lightning and Thunder (a Nigerian tale) and The Story of the Milky Way: A Cherokee Tale introduce the concept of a pourquoi tale, a folk tale that explains how or why something came to exist. Background information on the Nigerian and Cherokee cultures (assembled by the teacher from the listed websites) sets the stage for discussion of how beliefs and customs might influence the narrative and the moral of a story. The class works together to outline the key elements of pourquoi stories, and students read and analyze an additional story using the Pourquoi Reading Worksheet.

Exploring World Cultures Through Folk Tales by Sarah Dennis-Shaw
Grades 3-5: Students journey beyond the borders of their everyday environment in this exploration of world cultures. In this lesson, small groups of students are assigned one of three folk tales from African, Japanese, or Welsh cultures. Students read the tale aloud together and use a story sequence graphic organizer to record the most important events from the story. After reading the story, students create a visual representation of the story in the form of a collage, comic book, or some other creative method. Students then conduct online research to find information about their assigned culture. In a culminating activity, students retell their folk tale using the visual representation and then summarize the research they compiled. Students give one another feedback on their oral presentations

Fairy Tales from Life by Patricia Schulze
Grades 3-5: Students begin by making a list of fairy tales they know, and then brainstorming characteristics that describe those fairy tales. They then use their knowledge of fairy tales to make predictions during a read-aloud of a fairy tale picture book. Next, students work together in small groups to read, discuss, and analyze fairy tales. After compiling a list of common elements, students collaborate on their own original fairy tales—each student decides what kind of experience to write about, composes and revises a fairy tale, and finally presents their story to the rest of the class. The lesson follows a process method that includes peer review and encourages using picture books as models and concludes with individual reflection on the group project and fairy tales.

Fairy Tales and You by Lisa Storm Fink
Grades 3-5: Children will draw on their knowledge of story structure and fairy tales to write their own. Events from their own lives become the basis for personalized fairy tales that can be published, read aloud, or performed for others.

American Folklore: A Jigsaw Character Study by Renee Goularte
Grades 3-6: Collaborative groups will read a variety of American tall tales, then report elements of their story to the whole class. Students add story information to a collaborative, whole-class character study matrix that summarizes all the stories. In a writing activity, students compare two characters of their choice. Support for English Language Learners (ELLs) is embedded in the guided collaborative process, while the content of the stories adds to all students’ knowledge of American culture and history. The stories used in the lesson include well known and lesser-known diverse characters. The lesson process is applicable to any set of related texts.

Explore Point of View in Fairy Tales by International Literacy Association
Grades 5-8: When children read a familiar story told from a different point of view and then use what they have read to help them write their own version, they think critically about what the different parts of a story are and how changing these parts changes what the reader gets out of the story. Fairy tales are perfect for this activity because they are so well known; new versions of fairy tales are often called fractured fairy tales.

Fairy Tale Autobiographies by Patricia Schultze
Grades 5-9: Students work together in small groups to read, discuss, and analyze fairy tales. After compiling a list of common elements, students collaborate on their own original fairy tales—based on events from their own lives or the lives of someone they know. Each student decides what kind of experience to write about, composes and revises a fairy tale, and then presents their story to the rest of the class. The lesson follows a process method that includes peer review and encourages using picture books from a variety of cultural backgrounds as models. Students share their stories with the class, and the project concludes with individual reflection on the group project and fairy tales.

The Big Bad Wolf: Analyzing Point of View in Texts by Laurie A. Henry, Ph.D.
Grades 6-8: Many students read without questioning a text or analyzing the author’s viewpoint. This lesson encourages sixth- through eighth-grade students to question what they are reading by providing them with the language and skills needed to analyze a text. Students learn to look at the author’s purpose, examine multiple viewpoints, and also recognize gaps in the text. By reading two versions of the same tale and completing an interactive Venn diagram, students recognize that there are not only different versions of a story, but also different viewpoints to consider when reading. Extension activities include debating a fairy tale using different character viewpoints.

Tales from FCIT’s Lit2Go Website

I’ve added the Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level Score of each collected work in parenthesis. Keep in mind, of course, that the grade level score is a measure of readability and that each work is available as both text and as an audio file for listening.

The Blue Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (7.6)

The Brown Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (6.6)

Buttercup Gold and Other Stories by Ellen Robena Field (5.7)

The Crimson Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (6.8)

Fairy Tales and Other Traditional Stories by FCIT (4. 6 average, but this collection varies greatly from passage to passage)

The Grey Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (4.0)

Grimm’s Fairy Tales by Grimm Brothers (6.3)

Japanese Fairy Tales by Yei Theodora Ozaki (7.4)

The King of the Golden River by John Ruskin (6.8)

The Light Princess by George MacDonald (5.4)

More Jataka Tales by Ellen C. Babbitt (3.9)

The Olive Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (3.4)

The Pink Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (4.0)

The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen (5.5)

Stories from Around the World by FCIT (5.7, but this collection varies greatly from passage to passage)

The Yellow Fairy Book by Andrew Lang (6.8)

And, although not “traditional” tales, the origin stories in Kipling’s Just So Stories can be used for many of the same sorts of student activities. (6.1)

Supporting PDFs from ReadWriteThink

Common Elements of Fairy Tales

Situations for Fairy Tales

Story Sequence Form

Beginning, Middle, and Ending Chart

American Folklore: A Jigsaw Character Study

Write Your Own Pourquoi Story!

Prewriting Questions

Fairy Tale Peer Review Form

Reflective Journal Instructions

Activity PDFs on the Lit2Go Website

Most of the 300+ folks and fairy tales on the Lit2Go website also include an activity PDF. Just click the “Student Activity” button on each passage page to download the free PDF. See example below. Also note that the entire passage is also available for download and printing if desired. Just click the “Passage PDF” button to the left of the Student Activity button.

(Click image to enlarge.)

Read online "Fairy tales for everyone", Boris Shtein - LitRes

Vyachik

Once upon a time there was a girl. And so she began to blow bubbles. All the bubbles floated in the air until they bumped into some objects. When they bumped into something, they burst, as befits soap bubbles. And only one bubble was sassy-sassy! It didn't burst at all, but bounced off everything it bumped into and continued to float in the air like a toy moon. In addition, he had a blue mouth with which he smiled impudently. The girl had long ago stopped blowing bubbles, and he kept floating and soaring, teasing and teasing, and even once showed her a blue tongue. Not an educated person at all! And prevented the girl from watching cartoons on TV. And she said to him: “You are ill-bred! I'm fed up with you! The educated bubble would have disappeared long ago if he was told that they did not want to hang out with him anymore!

I must say that the bubble was very upset. He, perhaps, was even offended, because the corners of the blue mouth crawled down, and a tearful face appeared before the girl. But the bubble could not cry: he had nowhere to take tears. Inside he had nothing - one emptiness: he, after all, was just a soap bubble. The girl felt sorry for the poor fellow, and she said:

- Okay, don't be so upset. I will play with you. First I will give you a name. You will be Vyachik.

Bubble was very surprised by such a name. He even wanted to object, but he had nothing. True, he had a blue mouth and a blue tongue, but he had no voice. What a voice a soap bubble can have! Therefore, in response, he only shook himself from side to side, showing that he was surprised by such a name.

Why are you surprised, said the girl. Everyone should have a name. For example, my name is Lena, the kitten's name is Fishman, and your name is Vyachik. The name is pretty, it resembles a ball. You are also round like a ball, that's why I called you Vyachik.

The bubble nodded by itself and bounced around the floor like a real ball without bursting.

And they went for a walk - all three of them: Lena the girl, Vyachik the soap bubble and Fishman the kitten.

- Vyachik, Vyachik! - the girl shouted, and the bubble rolled towards her, bouncing high on the bumps. Kitten Fishman raced after him. He also bounced from time to time, regardless of the terrain. He, after all, was just a child, this little tailed Fishman, and he always wanted to jump. He also wanted to catch up with Vyachik and hit him with his paw with extended claws. Little Fishman did not understand that Vyachik was just a soap bubble, and from the cat's claws he could simply burst.

So they played, laughing merrily. At least the girl laughed merrily. At the soap bubble, the corners of the blue mouth crawled up - we can say that he, too, was laughing. The kitten did not yet know how to laugh: it was a very small kitten.

Suddenly everyone saw a hungry black crow. She flew off the branch of a good-natured oak and, spreading her huge wings, rushed to the kitten.

There was no doubt that she was going to hit the kitten with her powerful beak and drag her to be torn to pieces.

- Save yourself, Fishman! the girl shouted and waved her hands at the crow.

But is a big crow afraid of a little girl! Moreover, it was not even a crow, but a raven, a creature even more ferocious.

And then Vyachik became very angry with this raven. You ask: can soap bubbles get angry? Ordinary, of course, can not. But it was, after all, a magic bubble. You should not be surprised: there are magic lamps, magic shoes, magic old men Hottabychi. Why not be a magical soap bubble? And then the magic soap bubble Vyachik rushed to protect Fishman's kitten. He swelled with anger and became twice his own size. The blue mouth parted, the corners of the lips turned down. It is a pity that he did not have blue teeth in his mouth, if they were, the sight of Vyachik would become so formidable that, of course, he would frighten the big raven. And so the raven was not at all afraid, he only hesitated a little and pecked at Vyachik with all his might. And Vyachik burst. After all, he was, though magical, but just a soap bubble. His magic was only enough to withstand light touches on home furniture or grass-covered bumps, and he could not resist a sharp and strong beak.

The raven was terribly surprised that the funny ball suddenly disappeared, and suspected something was wrong. And, suspecting something was wrong, he decided to get out of here in a good way and have breakfast somewhere else.

This is how the kitten Fishman was saved. And only a small wet spot remained from Vyachik.

The girl cried a little: after all, they managed to form a warm company, and when one of the company dies, normal people always cry.

Now she often blows soap bubbles, waiting for Vyachik to appear.

He still doesn't show up. But, after all, the girl has a whole life ahead, How many more soap bubbles will be in this big life! Someday Vyachik will also appear.

Giraffe

Giraffe was standing in a cage. The cage was big, big - all the way to the sky!

The boy was standing next to the cage, looking at the giraffe with his head thrown back. The boy looked at the giraffe, and the giraffe, squinting his eyes to his nose, looked down at the boy. The boy was small himself, but from the height of the giraffe's head he seemed quite tiny. So tiny that it was just right to look through binoculars.

- How big you are! the boy said.

“You are so small,” Giraffe replied. - It's time to look at you through binoculars.

- So what's the matter? Consider! the boy suggested.

- But I don't have binoculars, the giraffe said sadly.

– When is your birthday? the boy asked. I will give you binoculars for your birthday. He turned to his dad. "Really, dad?"

"I don't remember," the giraffe admitted. - There is a plaque on the cage. It says when I was born.

Fifteen minutes later, the boy announced:

– Your birthday is in a month.

– What about you? the giraffe asked.

- And I have a year later.

- And who will give you binoculars? asked the Giraffe.

"I don't need binoculars," the boy said. - I'm already four years old. It will be eight soon. And then twenty. And I will be a pilot. I will fly on an airplane above all giraffes.

Giraffe suddenly felt sad, and then he started crying.

- Why are you crying? the boy was surprised.

- Because, for example, I'll never be a pilot: I won't get into any plane...

The boy thought.

Then he sighed and said:

– Well, I won't become a pilot. I will become an inventor. And I will invent such a big plane, just huge. So that, for example, a giraffe could fly in this plane.

The giraffe stopped crying and said in a gentle voice:

- You are a true friend. I'm sorry I can't see you without binoculars yet.

At home the boy asked his mother for binoculars. Mom had a small theater binoculars, and she gave them to the boy.

“Let him play,” thought the mother, “it's good that the child is interested in optical technology. It’s better than endless computer games… Maybe in time he will become a real smart student!”

Actually, a student is a temporary profession. Many children become students after school, and then? And then from them, from these already students, engineers, doctors, teachers, pilots and captains are obtained. But my mother didn’t have time to think it out before that time, because the boy interrupted her train of thought. He asked:

– Mom, can I give your binoculars to a giraffe for his birthday?

- Why? Mom was surprised. “A giraffe doesn’t go to the theatre.” Why does he need theater binoculars?

“Mom,” the boy asked, is there a sign “No Giraffes” on the theater?

- No, my mother honestly admitted, - there is no such sign at the theater.

“You see,” the boy was delighted. “So the giraffe might someday go to the theatre, like a children’s play.” Or a puppet. How can he see little artists without binoculars?

Mom had nothing to say and agreed.

Give me a gift,” she allowed, smiling.

Probably thought the boy was joking.

But the boy was not joking and exactly one month later he came to the giraffe for his birthday.

I must say that there were not many guests at this holiday - namely two: a boy and his dad. They brought the giraffe treats of apples and bananas and, of course, binoculars. First, the boy slipped the gifts into the cage. He asked:

- Why do you have so few guests?

The giraffe up there shrugged and said nothing. Then he spread his front legs wide - from this his height became smaller, and it was more convenient for him to treat himself from the ground.

Then the boy put binoculars into the cage and said: Here's a birthday present for you.

The giraffe moved his thick lips, and the boy thought he smiled.

- Do you like it? the boy asked.

In response, the giraffe took the binoculars by the strap with their teeth.

- How will you look into it? the boy asked. You don't have hands!

The giraffe did not answer the boy. He began to rotate his neck vigorously, spinning the binoculars the way a sportsman spins a hammer. Suddenly, the giraffe sharply unclenched its teeth, and the binoculars, flying between the bars of the cage, soared into the sky and landed on the roof of the terrarium - a house where snakes live.

- Wow! the boy and his dad said in unison.

Then they said goodbye to the giraffe. The giraffe chewed his big lips, and it seemed to the boy that the giraffe had blown him a kiss. The boy also blew a kiss to the giraffe: kissing his fist, then opened it and blew towards the giraffe.

Then the boy and dad completed what was written on the board that hung on the cage. They added with felt-tip pen: "ZOO CHAMPION IN THEATER BINOCLES THROWING."

And that was the pure truth.

Toad

Once upon a time there was a boy. He had all sorts of different desires, and they, as a rule, were fulfilled. For the fulfillment of desires, the boy had a mother and father. Especially dad. And then one day the boy had a very big desire. Strong-strong.

Desire sparkled with nickel and red paint and rolled along the paved path, tires rustling pleasantly. It's hard not to realize that this was a brand new children's bike.

And indeed, mom and dad immediately understood this. Especially dad. Dad immediately drew a bicycle on a piece of paper - and not only a bicycle, but also a boy, how he rides this Sami bicycle on his own. And he said:

- Well, let's buy a bicycle for a man!

The boy waited for his mother to happily nod her head in agreement.

But for some reason my mother did not nod her head happily, but on the contrary said unpleasant words. He said this:

- I don't know, the toad is choking me.

- What toad? Dad was surprised. - I don't see any toad. And he carefully looked around the room.

The boy also carefully examined the room. Even very, very carefully. And suddenly I saw a toad. After all, it happens that children see what adults cannot see. So he saw a nasty green toad with a brown tint. She sat on her mother's back and squeezed her mother's throat with her brown paws. It’s also good that my mother was wearing a sweater with a high stand-up collar, otherwise she would probably be terribly disgusted.

Dad said:

– Well, let's wait until better times.

The toad immediately jumped off mother, and mother said:

– That's good!

It is clear that she felt good when she got rid of the toad!

So, the mother ended up without a toad, and the boy without a bicycle.

Nevertheless, the boy grew up and soon became a dad himself, because he also had a son, and this son also had different desires, and one day he really wanted a bicycle.

The former boy, and now also dad, carefully looked around the room and, not finding a toad anywhere, said:

– Well, let's buy a bicycle for a man!

And bought.

My son grew up riding a bicycle, and grew up to such an extent that the bicycle began to seem to him too slow a means of transportation. And this resulted in the desire to have a motorcycle. Oh, what motorcycles he saw in an advertising magazine! Streamlined, powerful, sparkling, they had something from space rockets. Not motorcycles, but real happiness! And our ex-boy, and now dad, heard from his son, when they were sitting in a cafe and eating ice cream, the serious and expensive word "motorcycle".

The young father became thoughtful and looked around carefully. And suddenly he noticed that a nasty green toad with a brown tint was sitting on an empty chair at their table and was looking at him with its bulging eyes, and he read a threat in this look. Our young dad involuntarily rubbed his neck (and he was just in an open T-shirt) and said, looking sideways at the toad:

- Let's wait until better times!

And his son continued to pedal until these very best times.

Better times came when my son grew up and earned money at the factory for a motorcycle.

Interestingly, when he was already approaching a shop where motorcycles were sold, out of nowhere, a toad jumped on his back and began to make his way to his open neck. The young man calmly took it off and threw it in the trash can. And never saw her again.

Spot

It sparkled in the sun like a real enamel thing, a seductive ringing little thing. Although it was not a little thing (especially a ringing one!) - it was just a white speck on the tip of a cat's tail. But the crow could not understand this. It was a rather narrow-minded crow with round eyes, which could not cover most of the space with its gaze, but, staring at one point (for example, at a white spot), saw only this point, nothing else.

And then our crow stared at a white spot, which she mistook for an enamel thing. The crow was seized by the desire to grab this seductive little thing and take it to her nest, and she saw no reason to prevent this desire from being fulfilled.

I must say that this crow was quite a thieving bird. She already had a glass earring in her nest, which a little girl dropped on the beach before her eyes, and - you won’t believe it! - a shiny yellow watch, which he took off when he went for a swim, a very adult man. Now the crow decided to replenish its collection with a tempting little white thing - it attracted it to itself, like a magnet attracts a piece of iron. The crow fled and pecked at a white spot, but did not hit. The speck moved aside, then rose up, and then hid under a large tabby cat. The cat, tucking her tail under her, arched her back like a bridge, turned her face to the crow and bared her teeth, showing teeth as sharp as needles. With all her appearance, the cat seemed to say:

- Get out, don't pester.

But the crow did not even think of stopping the hunt. She, as I said, had a rather narrow forehead, very few brains fit in it - they were not enough to figure out that the speck belonged to the tail, and the tail belonged to the cat. Therefore, the crow was configured militantly. She didn't understand why this nasty cat would bare its nasty mouth and prevent her natural desire to steal the speck. Unfortunately, there were not enough words in the narrow crow's forehead to express her indignation, and she uttered the one word that she always had at the ready: she angrily shouted:

– Karrrr!

A speck, meanwhile, again appeared in a narrow strip of the monitored space. Then the crow rushed forward, helping itself with its wings, and pecked!

And this time it hit!

However, the speck slipped out of the beak and hid again, describing a beautiful arc in the air.

The cat again turned to face the crow and said without concealing contempt:

– Have you lost your mind completely?

- The fool herself! found a crow.

A crow has little brains, but it was enough for rudeness.

You don't need much intelligence to be rude!

The cat, having shown restraint, did not answer anything, but took it and left. She went to the pier where the fishermen were fishing. Small fish were sometimes caught, which people didn't need at all... One way or another, the cat had its own plans for life

And the crow, swearing again, flew away.

He and the cat never understood each other.

Clock

The new clock was hung high above the computer desk. The computer desk was in the corner of the office, and the clock was at the head of the corner.

Not everyone manages to be at the forefront of the corner, and not everyone can refrain from emphasizing their high position, their superiority over those who turned out to be much, much lower, for example, over old mechanical clocks with antediluvian hands, which lay as useless, no longer ticking, on a random chair and looking sadly at the ceiling.

- We are looking at some idlers, - said the tall electronic clock, - and we are surprised how they are not ashamed to lie uselessly, staring at the ceiling with their dials!

“You shouldn't make fun of those who are in trouble,” came from the chair, because anything can happen to absolutely anyone. We know. We started counting time a long time ago, when no one had heard of an electronic dial without hands. And they've seen a lot in their lifetime. For example, they saw that those who were above everyone else sometimes fell from their height and were shattered.

“You are just jealous of us,” the modern electronic clock, placed at the forefront, chuckled arrogantly. Ornate electric dots flickered continuously on their dial, forming numbers: hours, minutes and seconds. The electronic clock had something to be proud of!

But the old clock was not familiar with the feeling of envy. The master who built them in ancient times was a simple-hearted and industrious person, and he did not envy anyone. He successfully did what he loved, people respected him for it - who else is there to envy! He put a lot of good feelings into his watch, for example, a sense of precision, a sense of justice, but he did not put any feelings of envy.

And the Old Clock was sincerely surprised:

– What is there to envy?

- At least to the fact that we sparkle with lights and show the exact time, the new watch condescendingly explained. - And no matter how you look at you, it's always two o'clock. You are hopelessly behind.

"We're behind," the Old Clock replied calmly, "because we're standing at all. And we are standing, because one of our springs has broken from old age. It is like a disease. The old ones always get sick. But we also show the exact time - twice a day: at two in the morning and at two in the afternoon. At these moments, our accuracy is no less than that of the famous English clock on London's Big Ben tower. In addition, we hope that we will have an Owner who will cure us by replacing the old broken spring with a new one, and we will tick, tick again ... Under our ticking, our very first owner composed good tales and wrote them down, dipping a quill pen into the inkwell . Maybe the present master will also begin to compose fairy tales, and for this he will need our measured ticking. Then he will send us to the operation to replace the spring. So we have hope.

How naive you are - beyond your years! exclaimed the New Clock. - In our time, you need to have not hope, but connections.

- Do you have them? asked the Old Clock.

- Of course! New Clock boasted. “We have strong ties to the electrical outlet. Thanks to these connections, we generally do without springs.

– No springs at all? said the Old Clock. No, we are indeed hopelessly behind. This is incomprehensible to the mind: to do without springs for hours!

Suddenly, an unpleasant sound was heard, and the electricity in the house went out.

The computer instantly lost consciousness and fell into a deep sleep.

The new clock has stopped working. Their lights went out. The once elegant square of the dial has turned into a sad black square.

- And you won't know the time! – breathed a young human voice. It's a pity the old clock doesn't work. I'll take them to the repair!

Three days later, the Old Clock was standing next to the computer and rhythmically tapping out endless time. The lights in the house were already on. The computer woke up and was ready to go.

The man sat down at the computer and looked at the animated New Clock and the revived Old Clock. He made sure they showed the same time. The new clock is silent, and the old clock is ticking comfortably. The man raised his hands over the keyboard and, under the measured ticking of the Old Clock, wrote this fairy tale.

Cactus

Cactus grew among other flowers on a wide balcony. The balcony was so lined with pots and plastic trays of flowers and tubs of various plants that it looked like a botanical garden. In the evenings, a man and a woman came to the balcony. They drank tea or wine, surrounded by flowers, growing palm trees and other plants, and talking quietly, admired the hills, covered with multi-tiered buildings of pinkish Jerusalem stone. The big round sun, tired from the hot day, flooded the stone houses with an even, calm light, and this made them even pinker and more beautiful.

Nobody paid much attention to the cactus. And this is understandable. Scarlet and white roses, generous carnations, exuberant chrysanthemums, delicate tulips and self-confident gerberas bloomed on the balcony. A few more flowers with the difficult name ALSTRIMERIA grew there. They looked like lips stretched out for a kiss. Therefore, it is not surprising that, looking at them, a man and a woman sometimes kissed ... And they did not even stop looking at the gray-green prickly cactus.

“My God,” said the white rose to the cactus, “you are standing in the shade of the canopy, you are always standing in the shade of the canopy. You will wither away without the sun. How I wish I could help you!

Yes, that's exactly what a luxurious white rose said to a modest cactus: “I wish I could help you!”.

And added:

- Besides, you are not watered at all, I am very worried that you will die of thirst.

- Are you really worried about me and would you like to help me? asked the touched cactus. “He never had to face such attention to his person in his life. After all, he was just a short, unprepossessing spiny shoot, and no one could say with certainty who he really was: a stem or just a leaf that took root. Such.

“I'm really worried,” said the beautiful rose.

Don't worry, said the cactus. - We, cacti, do not need much: half a cup of water once a month is enough for us. But your concern for me... I feel unusual excitement from this... Besides, you are so beautiful!

- Can cacti feel? The white rose was surprised.

“Of course they can,” the laconic cactus confirmed. - They just don't show it. We cacti are not used to flaunt our feelings.

And he was silent for a long time, surprised at his own talkativeness.

Toward evening, when the sun began to sink to the west and tint the part of the city visible from the balcony, the rose said:

- I, after all, just can’t find a place for myself: how can you be without the sun!

- You slightly turn your beautiful bud towards me. He will be to me instead of the sun!

“I will do it in the morning,” the beauty promised. - In the morning my petals will open, and I will really become like the sun. Only white.

– The White Sun of the Desert! - said the cactus, not understanding where he got this phrase from.

- Yes, you are a poet! Rose was surprised. - Who would have thought!

- So much a poet! the cactus hesitated. - I just really like you!

- And you to me! Rose confessed.

I must say that these words made the cactus completely restless. Previously unknown feelings took possession of his gray-green body. He wanted to talk and talk with his beautiful neighbor, but she, having folded the petals into a bud, fell asleep all night.

The cactus kept worrying and groaning, but he did it quietly so as not to wake the rose.

He could hardly wait for the morning.

In the morning the rose turned its open face towards him and exclaimed:

– How beautiful you are! You are a real handsome man!

The fact is that on a modest gray-green prickly cactus, right on the edge of its stem or leaf, a delightful red flower has blossomed.

– The cactus has blossomed! - the woman said to her man with surprise. She watered it this morning and pushed it out of the shade into the sun.

Read online Fairy tales for everyone. The key to secrets ”, Lucia Bessonov-liters

Illustrator Yuri Sosnitsky

ISBN 978-4485-4046-2 9000

created in an intellectual publisher system Ridero

From the author

A fairy tale is a guide to a magical world that lives in our imagination. And this world helps us to do the most important thing in life - to see the path we want to take. And everyone has their own way.

Two brothers

There lived a husband and wife in a distant village. They were kind, humble and hardworking people. From morning till night they worked in their field: they plowed, sowed, watered and weeded. They had a small farm: a log house with a small stove, a garden around the house, a garden behind the house.

A black dog guarded the house, a gray cat caught mice, a white goat gave milk, and a motley hen laid eggs.

And the husband and wife had two children, two beloved, beautiful and happy sons. As soon as the sun rose in the morning, the children ran out onto the lawn in front of the house, ran barefoot on the green silk grass. They ran, they ran.

The sun caressed them with its warmth. The wind blew their silky curls. The rain showered them with cool water. And the earth gave them strength.

Children grew up not by the day, but by the hour. They grew up healthy, strong and strong. Real rich people. They worked, they were not lazy. They helped mother and father: weeded and watered the beds; grass-weeds were mowed; a goat was milked; cat, dog and chicken were fed.

Parents looked at them and rejoiced. Helpers are growing. There will be someone to rely on in old age. And they will look after the economy. And parents alone will not be abandoned.

But suddenly, unexpectedly, trouble came.

A rich merchant was passing through their village. He stopped at their house and asked for water to drink.

The eldest son brought him water. And the merchant began to show him his expensive, beautiful goods. Maybe he wants to buy.

And the eldest son saw a golden box among the bright, beautiful goods.

- What's in it? he asks.

- And in it, - answers the cunning merchant, - precious stones. The king of the forest gave it to me,” the merchant boasts.

He opened the box, and glitter and multicolored lights poured out of it. Stones are burning, shimmering in the sun, playing, bewitching.

The eldest son takes stones in his hands: they are smooth, pleasant, rolling between his fingers, like polished grains. He looked - looked, admired - could not stop looking.

He sorted through the pebbles for a long time, he could not stop. His eyes lit up. And he wanted to get the same stones for himself.

- Where can I find the king of the forest? he asks the merchant, but he does not take his eyes off the stones. And envy and greed flare up in him.

“He lives in the thicket of the forest across the river at the edge of the village,” the merchant explains, smiling slyly. - And you take your brother with you. It will be more fun to walk together,” the merchant advises him.

- No. I’ll go alone,” the eldest son eagerly answers. And in his eyes the sparkle of stones is reflected. And in his soul the fire flares up. And he thinks: “Why should I share with my brother? My stones will be! My! My!"

The merchant has left. And the eldest son does not eat, does not sleep, thinks about stones. He could not stand it, he began to get ready for the road.

- Where are you in such a hurry, son? - the father asks anxiously.

- To the forest king, - the eldest son answers without hesitation.

- Why? father got scared.

“I want to ask him for precious stones,” the eldest son honestly admits.

- Why, the king of the forest is an evil sorcerer! Think! exclaims the father.

But the eldest son does not hear anything. Doesn't see anyone. Only the beauty and brilliance of stones stand before his eyes. He feels neither fear nor sadness.

He repeats everything and gets ready for the journey.

And the father and mother were sad. But they blessed and ordered not to linger.

“We will wait for you until the last moment,” the father says sadly, hugging his son.

“Come back, son,” mother says with tears, giving a bundle of food.

But the son does not hear sadness and pain in the voice of father and mother. The son does not see tears in the eyes of loving parents. He thinks about everything. And rushes to brilliance, wealth and glory.

As the red sun rose, the eldest son went on a long journey. And his thoughts were already carrying him forward. And he did not hear the voices of his relatives behind, who promised him: “We will be waiting for you. Until the last. Come back!"

The eldest son walked for a long time along paths and paths. Past the river, past the meadow, past the field. But he did not see living beauty as before. He did not hear the singing of nightingales and larks, which he had enjoyed before. He did not see the flowering field grasses and plants that he once admired with his brother. He did not feel the fresh wind that blew him and brought the scent of flowers from his native meadows. And precious stones stood before his eyes, sparkled and shimmered with sparkling brilliance.

And his heart was silent, as if frozen in his chest. Living beauty faded before inanimate beauty.

And finally, he came to the kingdom of the king of the forest. The forest stood like a thick wall, impassable. Not even a ray of sunshine could penetrate the thick branches and dark green foliage. But the hero was not afraid. He was strong, young and bold.

A forest path led him into the thicket and led him to the edge of the forest.

– Why did you come, good fellow? - the gray-haired old man asks him, suddenly appearing at the edge of the forest.

“I am looking for the king of the forest,” the young man boldly answers.

- Why do you need it? The old man narrowed his eyes. And black light streamed through the cracks, enveloping everything around.

“I want gems,” the eldest son continues to explain.

– And only?! the old man laughed.

- What else? the young man is surprised.

- Let's go. I will show you the realm of the forest king. Maybe you'll like something else? - offers a cunning old man.

He walked slowly, leaning on a stick. And the young man followed him. They came to a beautiful lake with clear water. There was a castle by the lake with towers adorned with emeralds that sparkled and shimmered in the sun. The towers of the castle were crowned with domes, showered with sapphires and diamonds.

The young man opened his eyes wide in surprise and admiration. His pupils flickered. Greed and the thirst for possession took possession of him. His mind was confused.

- Do you like it? the old man asks, carefully watching the young man.

- Love it! the young man says, choking with impatience.

- Do you want to own all this? Do you want to be the master in this castle? Do you want to live by this beautiful lake? the old man asks.

- Of course! Of course I want! the young man exclaims.

- Then take it! Own it! Rule Enjoy! This is all yours! The old man chuckles wickedly.

– Mine? the young man asks in surprise, beside himself with joy.

“Yours, yours,” the elder confirms. “Just don’t burst like a bubble,” he adds quietly.

And so the eldest son remained to live in the castle by the lake. Days flew by after days. The young man completely forgot about his parents and brother, who were waiting for him at home. Here he became the owner of countless treasures, and he was puffed up with importance at the thought of his wealth. His heart was silent. And he did not want to return to his relatives.

Soon a suitable wife was found for him, a black-haired beauty and clever woman with emerald-colored eyes. Real mistress. She managed to do everything: cook, clean up, admire herself in the mirror, and count the treasures. The latter she did with particular pleasure, carefully sorting through the precious stones and placing them in different caskets. She did this so often that she remembered by heart how many stones were in each box, what shapes and sizes they were. And if she suddenly lost count, she would get very angry, frown her eyebrows and wrinkle her nose.

In the meantime, the father and mother and the youngest son are harvesting. Summer is running out. Autumn has begun. They are expecting their oldest son. They are sad. Their heart aches and aches from longing. Is he not alive? They don't know.

And winter came after autumn. Cold, frost. White snow covers everything. Parents are worried. They worry more and more every day. They don't know what to think. So the youngest son says to them:

- Release me, mother and father. I'm going to look for my elder brother.

– Oh, son, what if something happens to you? mother cries. - And if we don't wait for you?

- What can we do? Which have not be avoided. And you need to help out your brother, - the youngest son answers. - I can’t sit quietly at home when my brother is in trouble! You'll see, mother! I will find him! And together we will return home to the joy of you and your father. Do not worry.

“You are right, son,” the father agrees. - How can we live in peace if trouble happened to our son? Go son. God help you. Do not turn off the straight path, - instructs the father. - Why did you go, don't forget! Yes, hurry back, alive and unharmed. We will be waiting for you.

The father and mother blessed the younger son, and let him go on the road to help the elder.

The youngest son walked for a long time through the fields, through the meadows, past the river. And he came to the forest. And the path led him to the edge. The youngest son was hungry. He sees an apple tree growing in a clearing. He tried apples from this apple tree. They are sweet, juicy, honey. So they melt in your mouth. He quenched his hunger and then went through the forest along the path. He walked for a long time, he wanted to eat again. He remembered the wild apple tree and regretted that he had not picked apples for himself on the path. Suddenly he sees a pear standing in front of him. He tried yellow pears. And they are sweet, juicy, grainy. The tears are flowing straight. He ate. And went on. Again, I didn’t pick fruit on the path.

He walked for another day, but the forest did not end. As if the path leads him in a circle. Again he got hungry. Here he sees, in front of him is a raspberry bush, and the berries on it are visible, invisible. He began to collect them and throw them into his mouth. He ate delicious ripe berries and thought: “Oh, such berries, pears and apples, would grow in my garden. I would enjoy them every day.”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a gray-haired old man appeared with a stick and asked:

- Where are you going, good fellow?

“I am looking for my brother,” the young man explains. - He went to the forest king.

“Aaah, I see,” the old man narrowed his eyes, and he looks at the young man and continues to ask. - Are you probably tired from the road, hungry? Don't you want to rest in my garden? Ripe apples and sweet pears to taste?

- Why not try it? It wouldn't hurt, - the young man agrees. - And where do you live?

- Here, not far. Come on, the old man says.

And he brought the young man into a vast garden. And there, fruit trees and berry bushes are apparently invisible. What is there: and apples, and pears, and cherries, and apricots, and raspberries, and currants. And all the fruits are large, ripe, sweet.

The young man's eyes widen. He doesn't know where to start. He began to pluck all the fruits, to try. Now he will approach an apple tree, then he will run up to a pear, then to a plum, then to a raspberry. And all are sweet, juicy, appetizing. So they beckon, so they fascinate. He ate, he ate, he could not eat. Either from greed, or from hunger, or from a great appetite, but you want and want to eat everything.

Here a red ruddy apple seduces him, there a large, sweet pear peeps out. Here the red raspberry glitters in the sun. There, golden apricots beckon.

“If only I could sit under these trees for a century, I wouldn’t leave this garden anywhere,” he admits, sighing with regret.

- So stay until you're full. The garden is big. Lots of fruits. Help yourself. Don’t be shy,” the cunning old man laughs, his black eyes flashing.

So the youngest son stayed in this garden to taste the fruits. He forgot where and why he was going. He stretched out under the trees, he eats the fruits, he gets pleasure, he does not think about time.

At home, mother and father are waiting for their sons.

Winter is over. Spring came. Streams flowed. The snow has melted. The starlings have arrived. And the birds sang like spring. The sun warms, the earth warms. But it does not please the parents of the aging. Mother and father do not hear spring trills, they do not see the sun's warm rays in the thawed patches. They don't feel warm. There is coldness, pain and longing in the parent's heart. A parent's heart knows everything, feels everything, and survives for the children.

And the father asks:

- The sun is hot, help our sons! Warm them with your rays. Let their hearts wake up, respond. May they hear our call. Let them remember their home. How they grew and frolicked. How they grew up and learned. As they left to seek happiness. Rescue one another.

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, flashed with bright rays, as if it had heard the prayer of a priest. Promised to help.

And mother asks:

- Free wind, help our sons! Bring them the scent of flowers and herbs from our fields. Let the sons remember how they ran barefoot across the grass-ant for butterflies and dragonflies. How they laughed and rejoiced.

The wind died down, listened. And then how he shook the tops of the trees, how howled. The gates creaked, the shutters on the windows rattled.