Sonja Nic Rafferty

Mum, is our house growing?

In a little town, in a little house, lived a little girl who was called Sarah. Sarah was too much alone,
because her parents both worked until the evening. Sometimes her father went to his office on
Sundays. “We want to live in such a big house like our neighbours, too”, he said. Except of their
house there were just splendid houses in their street, with large gardens. “For that we have to earn
and save much money”, he explained to little Sarah. She couldn’t understand that all, nevertheless
it was nice here, and to her everything seemed to be big enough.

Sarah preferred to play outside in the garden and she talked to the animals that lived there. Yes,
Sarah really talked to them, because often she had nobody else to whom she could talk.
In winter she missed the animals a lot. Some had flown to the South, others hibernated, and some
never came back. But now it was summer and many little animals lived in the garden. They liked to
come to Sarah, because they feel well in the gardens of the neighbours. There regularly rattled a
lawn-mover over the blades of grass and cut everything that crossed it, so that they quickly had to
take a flight. Especially the slow snails had become very carefully. Not just the fast lawn-mover was
a danger for them. Also the human beings, who tried to trample them down. Just because they ate a
bit verdure. Wasn’t it like that, that rather men senselessly destroyed plants? But snails just ate
because of hunger.
Sarah never trampled down animals; indeed she wouldn’t have known why she should do this.
In her garden there was no lawn, therefore never a lawn-mover.

Not just the animals, the flowers too, felt well in Sarah’s garden. They blossomed colourfully and
disorderly in plentiful splendour. Nobody squeezed them into borders, and besides there was space
enough for the “weedies”. The colourful clover, the wild pansy and all the other herbs were beauty
as cultivated species.

Like Sarah talked to the animals, she also talked to plants. In the morning she welcomed the
sunflower: “Good morning, tallest of all. Did you sleep well?” It may have been just the wind, but
now and then it looked like as the sunflower friendly inclined down to Sarah.
Best of all flowers Sarah liked the forget-me-not, which grew under a fir. It shone so brightly blue, its
blossoms were tiny and numerous. Sarah liked everything that was little; in fact she herself was
little. “I certainly don’t forget you. Bye-bye, see you this afternoon; she took leave of the sky-blue
flower. A gentle rustling in the summer wind was the answer.
Sarah was just ready to walk on, but she yet saw a ladybird, which she let crawl on her hand.
Because it couldn’t look at his back, she informed it about the number of its dots. She counted
seven and the beetle thanked her for the information with a jolly wing stroke.

Soon after Sarah was late in school. This mostly happened, if one of her little animal friends was
already awake. Sarah’s teacher admonished her to be punctual. Nevertheless she didn’t
accomplish it always. She just was too busy.
Sarah was a good pupil. She liked to learn, of course everything about plants and animals she liked
best.

One-day Sarah’s Dad brought her puppy, because she was much alone. He thought she would be
delighted in it, and she did. And he also thought, that she might be anguished about a big dog and
chose a little one. He was right with it, again.
The dog was so small, that he could lie in Sarah’s doll pram. He got it as his bed. Sarah’s didn’t play
much with dolls.
Sarah’s new friend was a mongrel and was called “Rowdy”. He was very peaceful and even let
alone cats. That means a lot for a dog. I wonder why he was called “Rowdy”. Perhaps he had
romped with his brothers and sisters when he was a whelp.
Soon Sarah and her tousled dog were inseparable. They strolled without a lead, because he didn’t
run away anyhow.
Sarah liked to sit with Rowdy among all the fragrant flowers. Together they watched the iridescent
butterflies. In fact, those flew from blossom to blossom without getting tired. The same sight
presented the buzzing bees. Sarah never felt bored. Playing inside she decided to do later.

Sarah’s parents took her to a villa. It looked left and in fact it was empty. Nobody lived in it. “Perhaps
we could buy this house. Isn’t it beautiful?” Sarah’s Mum said. Then a gentleman appeared. He
opened the front door and showed them all the plenty rooms. Sarah’s Mum was enthusiastic.
“Look, Sarah, you could have a big room on your own.” Sarah didn’t listen. Through the window she
behold the garden, which looked like a park. It consisted of an endless lawn, bushes and a tidy cut
hedge. There were flowers as well, but bound together or stuck into tubs. Sarah clasped Rowdy in
her arms and whispered: “Do you want to live here, Rowdy” He shook his head and got a
melancholy look. To this place surely wouldn’t come butterflies, dragonflies or grasshoppers? But
Sarah wanted to go on listening the concerts, which were chirped wonderfully by the grasshoppers
in the evenings.
“Sarah”, called Mum, “for the present we’ll have to go back to our little house. We still differ about
the purchase price. A big house is quite expensive!

It has been one of those hot summer days, when dragonflies float in the air. In its wings reflected
the colours of the rainbow. They had come in the night. Sarah couldn’t sleep because of the trouble
about the new house. She just stood up and stole herself away into the garden. She took Rowdy
with her and was going to tell the friend about her sorrows. It wasn’t totally dark, but very silent
outside, when Sarah discovered three dragonflies, which crossed the garden. Where did they
possibly want to fly? Suddenly she heard a buzzing directly close to her ear. Now a pretty dragonfly
sat on a bluebell in front of her. She never had seen such a tiny one, and not such a glamorous one,
too. She could recognize a real little face, which looked at her with a consoling smile. Sarah had a
warm feeling, so she told this fairy everything. “My parents want a bigger house. What will I do in
the new house without my plants and animals? Can’t you help me?” The dragonfly smiled again and
buzzed low like dragonflies do. Sarah still asked: “What did you say, dragonfly?“ but it said already
“Good bye” while it drummed with its tiny feet on the bluebell. Immediately it rang a melody with its
bells. Then the dragonfly circled the little girl and was met by her three friends. Four little dragonflies
hove into the summer night. Sarah looked behind it until she saw just points. “Did you hear that,
Rowdy? She wanted to tell me something. Isn’t it? But now let’s go to bed.”

The next day was a normal school day and before Sarah has been woken, the first sunbeams
dipped her room in a warm light. She never drew the hangings, because she always wanted to see
her garden. If it would be possible, even when she slept. Rowdy yawned in the doll’s pram. He
sneezed; a sunbeam had tickled him at his nose. What happened? He pricked up his ears like he
was harkening. Sarah wiped her eyes and listened She heard a soft melody, she did know before.
That was … . Sure, yes that was the melody, which rang the bluebell in the night. Sarah got up,
opened the window and looked into the dawning dewy-fresh garden. Four points danced around the
bluebell. flew in and out the bells and were happy. Sarah had to laugh although she felt sad. The
points came nearer – no doubt. That was the dragonfly from yesterday. Three of them stayed at the
windowsill. The smallest and prettiest one came inside. Sarah welcomed her closely. The dragonfly
buzzed very quiet, but Sarah understood: “Look around you!” She let her eyes travel. The room
seemed to be twice as big as before. She went to the entrance-hall. “What a big hall!” Was she still
dreaming? ”Rowdy, just pinch me. – No, not in the heel!” In the bathroom she couldn’t jostle herself
that big was it now.

Perplexed Sarah’s Mum prepared breakfast in the bigger kitchen and her Dad came excited wit a
rule.
Sarah opened the front door. Did anything happen with the garden? Nothing seemed to be
changed. That was really all right. The garden was a paradise like it was. Every flower was on the
right place, even the “weedies” swayed satisfied in the fresh breeze.
Sarah went back to the house. Now it was big enough for the family, so they could stay here.
“Thanks, dragon-fly!” Or had it been a little fairy?

Sarah’s parents sat already at the dining table. Obviously her mother had calmed down. “Come
here, darling, hurry up, otherwise you’ll be late in school again.” Sarah said with a smart smile:
“Mum, our house is growing!” Her Mum looked at her with a smart smile and answered: “You did
dream again. Our house is like it always is.” “ Right, and we like it in that manner.” “Does that
mean, you don’t want to buy a villa?“ asked Sarah confused. “We would like to buy the villa, but we
wouldn’t have enough money for all the things we need. We calculated again. In fact we keep our
little house we’ll build a new room in the attics”, answered her Mum. “But a little while ago – Dad
with the rule … “ “ Go to the bathroom“, interrupted her father and kindly nipped the cheek to wake
up.

The window of the bathroom was open. So Sarah was visited again this morning. With her little
hand she cautiously held the tiny dragonfly, which she called “Fairy”. She thanked her again from
the depth of her heart. “Don’t mention it, little Sarah“, whispered “Fairy” and flew back to Sarah’s
magic garden.

Do you think Sarah saw her ever again? After all that exciting adventures Sarah went to school. In
the garden she called to the forget-me-not: “Good morning, prettiest of all, did you have a nice
dream, too?” Again the mild rushing of the leaves and the colour of her tiny, soft blossoms were
shining twice as sky-blue.

At a building-site was dredged. Sarah discovered a little earthworm on the rough ground. He looked
for help. “I got lost and already feel the vibration from the earth by call all that vehicles. Get me out
of the danger, please!” In her thoughts Sarah heard the voice of her teacher: “You must be
punctual!” Oh, the adults make such a fuss. The day would be still long enough. It was aimed at her
now to save life. Even if just a tiny life, but life. So she first took care of the earthworm and was late
in school again, although she started punctually.

Sarah stayed with her parents and Rowdy in the little house with the flower garden until she has
grown up. Meanwhile Rowdy has been very old in dog years, of course. You couldn’t see his age,
because he has been a cheerful, lucky dog and lucky dogs grow older slower.

Do you think, Sarah ever learnt to be punctual? Perhaps she didn’t. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so
serious, there-upon she is not an adult who don’t notice many things because of hectic and
hurrying. Things that would please them.

Do you think, Sarah ever learnt not to mix up phantasm with reality?
Perhaps she learnt it. Perhaps she didn’t. But perhaps that wouldn’t be so serious, too. Because
sometimes at the end dreams become true. If people believe very deep, or just have the right view
for things – like little Sarah.

© Sonja Nic Rafferty 1992 ~ translation S N R 2002

Meike Schrut
1. Version of the fairy tale "bird Aori"

Behind the mountains which reach round the fairyland lies the country of the sad songs. The songs
which also flow out of breaking hearts, grave songs. They make so lonely as it is only possible. The
country lost his real name before primeval times. Nobody could pronounce him, one was also afraid
of the magic of the uncanny signs which surrounded the real name. So long the fairyland
inhabitants could think, one said only "country of the melancholy". Rumpelstiltskin, Cinderella,
Sleeping Beauty and other beings avoid this country. Only who gets on a ship in one of the
countless storms, it can happen to that that he hears the miraculous small bell. In the gate of the
sad country the little bell sounds, thus small that it can hide an elegant woman in the hand, but so
loud that one hears it far away over the sea. Almost incessantly the bell jingles, whenever a person
cries, then this happens.

Aori, the speaking and singing bird is here at home. Every day he visits people and fairy tale beings.
They do not see him, because they are occupied with themselves too much. Aori, the fairyland
inhabitants know this, helps them. He gives the necessary strength to her hearts, his nice melodies
swing in the thought of the people very quietly. Aori is very tender and can also change. He changes
time as a young man, sometimes as a young woman around, has a look during few hours which
were released to him by the ruler of the fairyland at the cheerful and nicer side of the country. He
laughs with the mythical figures, can dance with them. If this acts, although to himself often almost
the heart breaks, because his only job is to comfort people. He is not allowed to do something else.
His big sympathy is also reflected in his tears which sometimes come out. If it is a human being,
they run light blue in his clothes down, he is a bird, they make his plumage difficult and dirty.

These are many grey days in which Aori looks in the windows of fairy tale being and people in. He
smiles at the lovers, teases the sleeping children. He shakes the head about that which cannot
recognise unhappy love and also do not free themselves from unblessed relations. He regrets the
relentless who want to have right which they are not loved by her woman of dreams, the man of
dreams. He cannot prevent that they waste her life.

He spreads his invisible wings around that which freeze in the heart if they are with those together
which they could love once or were loved by those them once. He awards them inaudibly courage
which penetrates only seldom into her consciousness. Since many human children do not believe
any more so much in the power of own thoughts or even the fairy tales which one himself can write
to improve in appearance of the life. Aori, the omnipresent bird from the fairyland, will hard have it in
this complicated time. In a time in which some people worry only about themselves...
(12/13/1992 written in a very bad phase for me)
Meike Schrut
2. Version of the fairy tale about the bird Aori
Behind the mountains which reach round the fairyland lies the country of the sad songs. The songs
which also flow out of breaking hearts, funeral hymns. The country lost his peculiar name hardly to
be kept long ago. No fairy tale being knew more exactly, when this had been. Simply expressed: the
country of the melancholy! A person who wants from a sad phase absolutely avoids this area, a
non-human-being also.
Recently I stayed - by mistake - there. The ship on which I wanted to undertake a world trip got in a
strange whirlpool and found itself in the world of fairy tale and legends, but just in the country of the
melancholy?! Unfortunately, this fitted exactly to my mood, in me was only coldness, nice feelings
seemed to have died everybody.
The plaintive tone of a tiny bell frightened me, the captain turned pale when he saw this
wonderwork of pure gold by his telescope. "Somebody is here aboard, carries for the coldness in
himself, not only such a feeling, also a mighty fairy from this country is called in such a way. She
accompanies the king Aori who can change, whenever he likes it, into a coloured bird."
I took care of an expression which one could call calmly, however, sweated under my blue garment
suddenly very strongly. The blue garment was nothing special: everybody carried thus a blue dress
or a blue suit with silver stripe. But when I looked down according to the words of the captain in
myself: my garment was torn up, I had to have lost my diamond-occupied sandals somewhere
aboard. And in the corners of my brain there appeared the recollections which I might have not
really. Were these my recollections generally?
"You were on the ball of the king Aori, fairy about the coldness," so it whispered in me. "He wanted
to annex you to his harem, however, you have rejected him, a bad mistake for which now mermaids
must pay because in those takes revenge he always when he does not agree a little bit."
In the sailings of the ship suddenly sat the uncanny coloured bird Aori, shouted always only:
"Aooooo, Aooooo..." one of the distraught sailors, said to me: "One calls him also the curse bird Aori
if the king becomes thinner and thinner and uglier, he changes into these ghastly creatures." "Does
Aori hate the people then?" "He loves it if they are sad and find no more rest, happy laughter and
other cheerfulness hates." The coxswain pointed to a black place on the water which became fast
bigger. A mermaid appeared and in her hands a silver bowl with countless pearls." We know who is
aboard, but she has properly acted. If she comes for for a while to us, the king Aori has no power
about them, not about us. She will not die, she lives like a mermaid among us, my father sends the
pearls. On the ship they should be brought, only with her help the ship with all people can be
saved."
A woman in the sea living? I thought of the unhappy sea virgin of Hans-Christian-Andersen and
asked: "How much time still remains to me, can one not calm him differently?" "Attempts it, but to
you remains only one-hour time, then the ship in the next rock will smash." The storm became more
violent, the mermaid had disappeared first of all again in the water. The king certainly liked me can
be bound to a mast and sang a very sad song about the loss of my darling, nevertheless? My song
had many stanzas and when I had ended, the storm was also away. I had used exactly 1 hour to
calm the king, this time from the floods there rose a young man with a fishtail, in the hand just that
mermaid which wanted to give away the pearls." You have made to us a very nice present to the
wedding, fairy about all bad and good feelings. The pearls might never have belonged to a person,
they would mean the end of all unwritten stories, the end of all imagination." Everybody stared
aboard at me confused and I could explain just over and over again that I had had no notion.
"No miracle, because the king Aori owns the gift to give human thinking to the fairies and vice versa
also, this puts out a large part of his power, never forgets this!"
I promised this and planned for something else: I never again wanted to turn the leaves through an
old, quite measured catalogue about strange trips. Why did I also get the last free place on this
ship?
So much I also thought, should find for all my questions and considerations I no answers, till the
end of my days.
(sometimes another variation. Do not write with pleasure in I-form, look for me peculiar, however,
can give absolutely the reader to which this accepts.)
Meike Schrut

Autumn fairy tales

The autumn did not keep waiting. He came with coloured colours, with all beauties which this
season knows. In the fairyland one was swift with the grape harvest. And as it is simply in the fairy
tale and has to be: the grapes prospered here especially hard, shone even against the fairyland
inhabitants.
Pittiplatsch of the love, one can go well: while his friends struggled, he lay under a shrub -
immediately beside the vineyard - eating noisily he chewed a small basket of full lusciousness
before himself, bit in candies, chewed, choked and coughed very much loudly, so that it his
protector, Mr. master Nadelöhr (most bottleneck ) got. He reproved him:
„Though you have fastest picked, have also found the nicest grapes, but only thanks to your magic
powers. You scoff, while we work we will prepare the wine without you.“
However, just this acted Pitti with pleasure and he considered how he could do that one was not
angry at him any more. Up to now he had always managed this. The gigantic basket in which the
whole harvest should land was covered only on the ground. Pitti bent over him, murmured: “Only
the nicest grapes should fill you, still small and insignificant ones should be big and juicy, countless
grapes should cover the vineyard.“ The last partial sentence came again from Pittis joke box, it was,
finally, a goblin, there this had to be.

As a Moppi wanted to empty the basket which he carried on himself in bigger, was full already about
the edge and disappointed he turned to the master: “Where do I have to go with my grapes, the big
basket is quite overfull?!“

Most bottleneck was not surprised long. Pitti once again, that had it only partly well-intentioned, had
to tag on everywhere on one more joke, here it went again almost too far. Pitti would also have 2.
Gigantic basket should wish in addition, but this would have been a wish too much for the day, Pitti
had only one wish per day freely.

Most bottleneck spoke: “I will get the new machine.“ Together with the mechanic's master he had
developed a machine with which one could give there and then the grapes of the basket in the
funnel. Wine originated immediately.

While putting up the machine there were the certain problems which the master not alone could
solve: there a lever stuck here and there something rattled. The mechanic's master was searched,
however, stood quite invisibly beside the fairyland inhabitants, nevertheless, he was also a
magician. Yes, he had decided to stand to the friends with, only Pittis magic trick was in way: the
master slipped on the bulging and quite partially crushed grapes which covered the whole vineyard.
He knocked himself somewhere badly the head, besides, his thoughts got mixed up violently: he
mistaken different apparatuses in the machine, so that the grapes were sucked though, but at the
same time stamped out from a confidential field oil which mixed now with the grapes which harvest
one had up to now, thereby became useless!
The unhappy master Nadelöhr suspected Pitti, because he had always an ugly joke on camp,
however, defended itself and made the invisible mechanic's master obviously, did not use for it yet a
wish.
„I have also messed up today a lot of things and I am sorry.“ The mechanic's master described what
to him happen was.
Pitti had crept understandable-wise in his hiding place, because in the bad luck of the mechanic he
had also anyhow guilt, the next day should run absolutely better.

Most near days the work should also go on, but what was this?
Pitti had been able to separate oil and grapes of each other which can be cleaned machine, the
apparatus had fully been got going when the other friends came and were astonished.
A good fairy, the Pitti pitied, had allowed to him that he had more wishes per day from the last
coarse joke openly, because she saw that he wanted to do everything to be allowed to live happily
and peacefully in the small community.
The wine became the best wine which one had known in the fairyland up to now...
Loveena Tayal

Princess Gabriel
Once upon a time in a far away land, there was a kingdom of Ijanhuhua. It was a land of fairies. The
ground was made of snow on which you could walk and would never slip. The stairs were made of
stars which always shone. The path was always adorned with beautiful rose bushes. There were
numerous white clouds to travel and play with. The trees were laden with ripe and tasty fruits which
were always within reach. The fairies spent their day laughing and playing with each other. They
were always smiling, for nobody in the land of Ijanhuhua had ever known what was pain and
sorrow.

In the night, the fairies would go far away to the dreams of the good children. They would play with
them, make them smile and tell them good stories. But they returned before dawn. If any fairy did
not return before dawn, she would turn into a statue of white marble and the whole land of
Ijanhuhua would come to an end. Due to this reason, only the elder fairies were allowed to go and
meet the children. During the day, all the elder fairies would gather to tell the younger fairies about
the children they met.

Among these younger fairies was the daughter of the King of Ijanhuhua. Her name was Gabriel.
She was the prettiest fairy in the entire land. Whenever she smiled, the roses started to blossom,
the stars shone more brightly and the clouds would start dancing. Everybody forgot their sorrows
and started smiling when they saw Gabriel. Being a young fairy, Gabriel was never allowed to leave
the kingdom. Everyday she bid goodbye to the elder fairies leaving to meet the good children in
their dreams. She would eagerly listen to the stories told by them during the day. She always
wished to grow big and fly off to the human land and see it for herself. But the rules were the same
for all.

One day, Florence, an elder fairy told everybody about a good boy that she had visited. His father
was a poor farmer and this boy took cattle for grazing. He was very poor and had no friends. His
only friends were the cattle that he took out for grazing and his flute that he used to play while the
cattle grazed. He was a very kind hearted boy and was always helping others. But he was always
sad because he was lonely. He had no friends. The boy's name was Rimo.

Gabriel thought about the boy the whole day. The more she thought about him, the more she felt
sad. The stars lost their usual shine and roses forgot to blossom. Nobody smiled in Ijanhuhua that
day. During the night, Gabriel hid Florence's wand in a cloud and when all the other elder fairies had
left the kingdom, she slowly took the smallest cloud and went to see Rimo.

Gabriel was seeing the human world for the first time. It looked beautiful with so many colors. She
wondered why there was just one color in their land when there can be so many colors. She saw
blue streams of water and the green fields. There were trees and so many different animals hiding
in them. There were such huge boulders which the children called hills and mountains. The children
went to school and played with their friends. They ate chocolates and candies. Some slept on
matresses and others on beds made of hay. But they all had the same dreams - of fairies.

Slowly the cloud made its way to Rimo's. Gabriel saw that he lived in a small house and slept on a
bed of hay. He was very innocent and handsome and around the same age as she. Rimo was
surprised to find a young fairy of his age in his dreams instead of the big fairy that he usually met.
Gabriel took his hand and together they flew in the sky, on the mountains and the hills. They played
with the water and the birds. They ate the tasty fruits and the drank from the streams. When it was
dawn, Gabriel realised that she should long since have returned home. She began to cry and as the
first rays of sun touched her, she turned into a statue of white marble
Rimo woke up from his dream. He felt as if the dream he had seen was almost real. He searched
for Gabriel in all the places they had visited but she was nowhere to be found. Tired, he went off to
sleep. In his dream he saw Florence crying and telling him that all the fairies would soon die.
Gabriel had turned into a statue and they had exactly two days to bring her back to life, else the
whole fairy's kingdom would be destroyed. It was only Rimo who could bring Gabriel back to life,
because only he could see her. Gabriel was in his dreams only.

Florence said, "Gabriel has defied the laws and come all the way to meet you. She should have
returned home before dawn because when the sun's rays touch a fairy, she turns into a statue of
marble and the fairy's land gets destroyed. There are only two days left. You have to search for
Gabriel and sprinkle two drops of fairy's potion on her." Then she gave him a ring that had a liquid
flowing inside it. "I need to return to my land before its dawn. You will get my cloud at night. You can
search for her only in your dreams. The Fairy Witch must have hidden her under the black cloud.
You need to find the black cloud before the dawn and sprinkle this fairy's potion on her, failing which
the entire land of Ijanhuhua will be destroyed. May the sky and clouds help you !"

Rimo got up with a start. He was in his bed, sweating. It was morning and he could see the cloudy
sky. Some clouds were white while some were black. He tried to figure out the positions of the black
clouds, so that he could search them when it was night, but the clouds kept changing their
positions. When it was night, he dreamt that a white cloud floated up to him and waited for him to
climb. He climbed on the cloud and it took off swiftly. Rimo travelled the sky far and wide but there
was no sign of the black cloud. The dawn was fast approaching and he did not have much time. He
wondered what a black cloud might look like.

When he was about to give up, he saw a white light shining far away. He followed it. He was
surprised to see that the light was coming from a marble statue. The statue was nothing else, but
Gabriel. There was no black cloud in sight. Rimo opened the ring to sprinkle potion on Gabriel but
as he was about to open it, he was engulfed by a black mask. Rimo was unable to see or breathe.
The black cloud started hissing and then it broke into a loud fire engulfing him and Gabriel. But just
then a miracle happened. Large drops of water started hitting him. The fire around him extinguished
slowly. Rimo saw that some hundred white clouds had gathered around him showering him with
rain.

But before he could thank the clouds, the cloud on which he was standing started shaking violently.
Rimo saw the sun ready to throw it's first rays. The dawn was approaching. Quickly, he sprinkled
some potion on Gabriel. She opened her eyes and started crying. Rimo helped her on to his cloud
and together they set off for the fairy's land.

As soon as they reached there, the flowers started to blossom and the cool breeze started blowing.
The King and Queen hugged Gabriel. The King asked Rimo to ask for any favour and Rimo said
that he wished to stay with Gabriel always. She was the first and probably the last friend he had
found.

The King granted his request. Rimo came to live in Ijanhuhua with his father. It is said that they all
lived there happily for several years before the King made Rimo his successor. Rimo became a very
kind hearted king. He married Gabriel and they lived happily ever after.
Karl Wiener

The butterfly
One day a cabbage invited his friends for a feast. He had spent many an hour choosing
special dishes and delicious wine and soon the guests were in high spirits. They toasted again and
again the health of their host and they joyfully sang along the accompaniment of music played by
the crickets. Among the guests was a young caterpillar, sitting at the lower end of the table. The
sound of the singing and the seductive scent had her attracted. Not being shy, she quickly joined in
the fun helping herself to the food. At the height of the feast some colourful butterflies started to
dance. The caterpillar took great pleasure in their graceful movements and hoped for a day when
she could dance like them.
The banquet continued for many a day and as she didn’t stop eating the caterpillar became
bigger and bigger. But the nights grew longer and the time between sunrise and sunset shortened.
Autumn had arrived. The party came to an end, the music stopped and the guests all went home.
Eventually the caterpillar found herself alone. She felt lonely and shivered with cold. Hiding herself
away in a cleft of an oak tree’s chappy bark she made a shawl of silk that warmed her and she fell
asleep, dreaming that she could dance as gracefully as a butterfly on her own wedding day.
Spring came and sunshine warmed the earth and the hearts. Flowers came into bloom and
bees swarmed around in search of nectar. The caterpillar finally awoke from her sleep. Inside her
refuge it was so gloomy that she strained with all her might to escape from the darkness and she
finally succeeded, squeezing herself through a small hole she emerged. The bright sunlight dazzled
her. She closed her eyes, stretched her body and with a big yawn she shed her winter coat that had
become too tight for her and looked around with some curiosity. A puddle sparkling in the sunlight
showed her image reflected in the water. She had become a colourful butterfly of breathtaking
beauty.
Her heart was filled with joy. She spread out her wings and folded them again to test out her
power. Finally she flew away. She fluttered from flower to flower refreshing herself with the sweet
nectar of the delightful blossoms. But she lost her heart to a tender bud that flourished under her
kisses and became a dark red rose. Neither rain nor storm prevented her from visiting the flower
that she had come to love with all her heart. There in the shade of the rose’s petals she felt so
happy and they spent many a night together gazing up in the sky and counting the stars.
The summer passed and as the year also the butterfly grew old. One day she set out to pay a
visit to her beloved rose. But she suffered from the cold. From time to time she had to stop and
catch her breath and now and then she also dozed dreaming of days that were now past.
Sometimes she couldn’t recall whether she was a butterfly or a dreamy little caterpillar. Maybe she
thought to be already a leaf of the flower that she loved with all her heart. When she arrived at the
rose’s place a gust of wind whirled her high in the sky. She disappeared behind a cloud together
with the last leaves of the rose.
Karl Wiener

The smart fox

Some day brother dog left his kennel and examined the scent of the environs. He ran to and
fro. Nuzzling at the earth he hoped to find something of use. He followed his nose, and a seductive
smell leaded him towards a treasure. Amidst the way he found a sausage.
His cousin, the wolf, had watched him suspiciously, and when he noticed that the dog sped up
his steps, curiosity prompted him to find out the reason for. He arrived at the place of interest at the
same time as the dog. The greedy eyes of both the gluttons watched the find. None of them risked
gripping the prey, knowing, that the slightest attempt would put an end to their fragile friendship.
Finally the dog wasn’t able to resist. But when he tried to approach the object of appetite, the wolf
gripped his coat and a hard fight flared up.
By random, the fox passed by. He saw the ruffians and spotted the object of conflict. He
reflected upon a possibility to take possession of the sausage without drawing the rage of the both
adversaries to himself. To gain his end, he needed a trick. So he proposed to settle the quarrel in a
fair way. He offered to divide the sausage in two parts and none of them should have more as the
other one. The wolf and the dog accepted this proposal. They thought it would be better to have a
part of the titbit and an unhurt coat than a torn coat and possibly nothing.
Thus the fox divided the sausage. But the two parts were unequal. Both the wolf and the dog
tried to grasp the bigger part, and the fight threatened to flare up again. But the fox found a way out:
Under the pretext of justice he took a bit of the bigger part. Intentionally he didn’t succeed once
again. Now the other end of the sausage was the bigger one. This procedure succeeded several
times, and both the cousins tried again and again to seize the bigger part. Finally, the fox swallowed
the last bit and licked his snout. The wolf and the dog steeled thoughtfully away. The fox had kept
his promise. Indeed, none of them had got more than the other one.
Karl Wiener

The salt in the soup

When the old king was tired of his reign, he handed over his crown and sceptre to his son.
Because of that his Bachelor’s life was gone, since there was no dignified king without a worthy
queen beside him. That's why the young king decided he should marry. The beautiful young single
ladies of the court adored him and there was no shortage of candidates for him to choose from. But
he wanted to be certain that his bride didn't want to marry him because of his being the king but
that she loved him from her heart.
At a friends house he became acquainted with two sisters both beautiful and intelligent, but with
very different characters. One of them spent most her time in front of her mirror. She loved wearing
the finest jewellery and gowns and dressed her hair with expensive ornaments and tiaras. The other
sister was diligent, lent a hand in the household chores and knew how to prepare sumptuous meals
with the finest ingredients and spices. The young king soon took a keen interest in both of them and
they in turn returned his affection. For a long time he couldn't decide which of them would love him
the most and being a shy man, he asked his friends to help advise him as to which of them he
should ask to be his bride.
So, at an opportune moment the friends tried to find out from each girl how they would describe
their love for the young king. “Look”, the first said, “I love him more than all my jewellery and my rich
garment”. When the young king heard this, he was flattered. He knew of the value of such material
things since his fathers vaults held much in the way of gold and precious jewels. But he was
disappointed, when his friends reported the other sister’s answer to the same question. Expressing
her feelings she had said: “I love him more than the salt which I put in my soup”. To the young king
salt was nothing other than a white crystal without measurable value, which on its own tasted
horrible. This couldn’t be true love he thought, so he decided to marry the girl, who had honoured
him more than her gold and jewellery.
After the marriage took place and the wedding-festivities came to an end, the young couple
retreated to their private apartments. There the king told his new bride, why he had chosen her over
her sister. The young queen didn’t like the comparison between her husband and the salt in her
sister’s soup, and the following day she ordered all the salt in the kingdom to be poured into the
sea. Now the seawater tasted of salt, but there was none left to add to the meals. In the beginning
the king accepted this, but soon he lost his appetite. Often he pushed back his plate without having
even taken a single spoonful of his soup. The lack of salt to season his food disgusted him and
spoilt the pleasure he had always taken in eating. Because he didn’t eat anything his power wasted
away and now and then during the night he wept into his pillow with exhaustion and disillusion.
When he tasted the salt of his tears on his lips, he realised, that all the gold and jewellery doesn’t
offset the salt in his soup, and he began to call into question his choice of bride.
Nadège Ango-Obiang

The prohibited footbridge

Sounds of horns, noises of tom-toms, echoes of the dances of the villager training the Nkodjein
clan, in Bitam. Clamours rose suddenly. An young girl, in the shade, watched for and waited until
the old women release the made beaten ground kitchens. When that was done, Essono was
engulfed in two of enter they and fills up an enormous basket of what it been able to find. However,
in the darkness, its been engaged, Ella, épiait it. A torrential rain swept the village suddenly, which
made redouble the cries of joy of the inhabitants and especially of the dancers. As discreetly as it
could, Essono was inserted in the forest, crossed many bridges far from reliable. Going up a slope
muddy and slipping, it found nose with nose with an immense quite dark boa.

- Me bolo, Essono, known as the Boa.

The young girl was satisfied to shake the head and to kneel near the creature. She deposited gently
and respectfully the contents of her basket. The boa looked at and says:

- Already three years that you honour me, and still not of human sacrifice.

He sighed:

- it was a being porch of you or three years of care. You held your promise. Blood would have
blessed you and enriched for the life, Essono.

The reptile swallowed all the contents of the basket. Then he says:

- Did nobody follow you?

- Nobody knows this place, promised the young woman.

- Then, I seal it on your behalf. Tomorrow, well before the night is not erased, before the paddle
does not settle, return. I would be through the way, I would have the color of the ground. Even if you
do not see me, crosses me. Thus, you will have crossed the footbridge towards happiness… and a
certain richness.

The boa added in a sigh:

- I would have preferred flesh to finish this dish. Your richness would be more than considerable.
Goes and return.

Been engaged saw the young girl turning back under the storm with her enormous empty basket. It
waited and saw the boa swelling then, gradually, to enter under ground. When this last seemed to
have disappeared, been engaged came and spanned the print of the animal. But the footbridge had
been sealed in the name of Essono. The animal rectified itself and swallowed been engaged very
langoureusement, finding finally its feast more than tasty. In its sleep, Essono is lived adulated and
crowned glory. The smile with the lips, it went before the paddle to span the print of the animal and
to cross thus its footbridge towards a happiness more than considerable.
Karl Wiener

The snowman
Even the sun itself seemed to enjoy the wonderful winters day. There wasn’t a cloud to be
seen. The rafters of the cottages in the valley seemed to buckle under the weight of snow that
covered the roofs, and from each chimney there beckoned a trail of smoke. The slope behind the
cottages had been commandeered by the children as a sledge-run and echoed with their delight as
they slid and tumbled head over heels down the hill. Peals of laughter could be heard. They came
from the snowball fights whenever a hit was scored. There amidst the children stood the lonely
figure of a snowman leaning on his broom. Under the crumpled hat that covered his head, a wide
grin stretched from ear to ear. A pipe warmed his red nose and his coal black eyes watched the
bustle around him with some amusement.

The fun and the games lasted until dusk, when the children reluctantly returned to their
homes. Now they sat in front of their cosy fire-place, enjoying baked apples and listening to their
grandfather, who told about the old snowman and his adventures.

Outside the snowman remained silent and lonely, gazing up at the night sky. There was
silence. But suddenly the stillness was broken by the beat of wings. A flock of wild geese alighted
on the ice of the village pond. Cackling and flapping their wings they talked about the events of the
day. But soon tiredness from their long flight overcame them. One by one they became silent and
snuggled down for the night. Once again the snowman felt lonely.

However, one restless goose continued to waddle up and down searching for the elusive
blade of grass beneath the snow. So it was that she became aware of the snowman. Somewhat
curious she approached to study this funny figure of a man. What a strange looking fellow she
thought, standing there mute, without any sign of movement. The goose was about to turn away
again when the sound of a deep sigh made her stop and listen. The snowman looked so miserable
that the goose was sorry for him. She asked the reason for his sadness. "Well", said the snowman,
"winter will soon be coming to an end, the snow will melt, and I’ll quit this world. I’ll never get to see
the spring".

The snowman’s grief touched the goose and she wondered how she could be of help. Finally
she had an idea. "Tomorrow", she said, „we’ll be flying westward up over the mountains where the
snow never melts. If you’ll follow the trail of our flock, it will lead you up into the mountains of which I
spoke". The snowman reflected on the words of the goose, and before he fell asleep he had
reached a decision.

Next morning the children were surprised to find their old snowman had disappeared.
Heeding the advice of the goose he had set out for the mountains where the snow never melts. It
was a long way, and if it wasn’t for Father Christmas, who passed at midway offering a ride on his
sleigh, he would never have reached his destination. The reindeers pulling the sleigh ran like the
wind and set him down on the highest peak of the mountains. There, having arrived at what he
believed to be his future home, overcome with fatigue, he fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of a
world of sunshine, full of flowers and laughing children.

But next morning, when he opened his eyes, he saw the sky was overcast. Dark clouds
surrounded him. Above the summits a storm was blowing, whilst fog hid the valley below. It seemed
that the winter with all the hail and snow was doing its best to prevent the onset of spring. The bad
weather carried on for many days. But then one morning he awoke to find the fog had lifted and he
could look down into the valley. The snowman saw, what no snowman had seen before. Down in
the valley nature had woken from its long slumber. Children romped beside the banks of a brook
that meandered through a meadow covered with beautiful flowers. The snowman gazed at the
children playing and marvelled at the sun glittering on the surface of the water. But he could neither
hear the children’s laughter nor the murmur of the brook. Not a sound reached his ears from the
valley below. To be honest, he didn’t feel as if he belonged to the world down there.

The snowman longed to be amidst the children. So he made his way step by step down
towards the valley. But in his excitement he lost his balance and like a clap of thunder he tumbled
down and down landing as a big heap of snow on the floor of the valley. The children approached
the scene with shouts of joy to romp in the snow before it finally melted and joined droplet by droplet
a big cloud. Since that time that cloud drifts around the world. The wind pushes it towards the
morning sunrise, and the children wait for the next winter when the droplets will fall as snow to earth
again.
Karl Wiener

The wallflower
The Prince was not only handsome; he was also young and very wise. These are three
qualities seldom combined under one crown. It’s no wonder therefore, that he featured in the
dreams of all the daughters of the land. One day he would inherit his father’s throne, and the girl he
chose as his wife would become Queen of the kingdom. For this reason all the fair virgins of the city
called to him, whenever he passed by on horseback. The admiration he received flattered the
Prince and he occasionally granted his favour to one or other of them giving her a bouquet of red
roses. For this reason his way was strewn with faded roses and broken hearts.
Each year when the Prince celebrated his birthday, the king invited the young subjects of the
kingdom to a huge banquet. The tables groaned with food and the castle resounded with music and
laughter. All the young ladies surrounded the Prince trying to get his attention. Each of them was
happy to catch a smile or even better to be asked for a dance. Only one of them stood apart and
nobody paid any heed to her. For sure she was pleased to gaze on the handsome Prince but she
was shy and a little too proud to make herself noticed.
In this particular evening misfortune occurred. The Prince had been unwell for some days but
the King didn’t want to cancel the festivities since its preparation had taken weeks. The music had
been chosen, the banquet prepared and anyway the King had decided it was high time the Prince
chose his bride. He wanted to know the girl that should reign some day at the side of his son.
Needless to say every girl hoped to be the one to sit on the throne at the side of the Prince and
each tried to attract his attention with idle chatter. But the Prince had lost all pleasure in the festivity.
His fevered eyes gazed around him and his face became paler and paler. He felt he had to leave
the room, but on reaching the door he collapsed, dropping to the floor.
The music came to an abrupt halt and the guests left the hall in panic. They feared for their
own welfare, thinking the Prince had become infected by some dread disease. But one of the girls
remained. It was the shy girl, who hadn’t been noticed by anyone. She rushed over to the Prince
and took his hand in hers. His heart beat feebly but thank God he was still alive. The King called for
help and some servants approached in haste. They carried the prince to his chambers where they
laid him on his bed. The young girl followed on behind and her concern touched the King’s heart.
She cared for the Prince, watching over him day and night not moving from his side until all danger
had passed. The Prince slept restlessly but in those moments when he awoke from his feverish
dreams, he looked up into her lovely face. Calmed by this image he fell asleep once more. By the
third day the crisis has passed, but on opening his eyes the Prince found that the girl who watched
over his dreams had vanished.
Still weak from his illness the Prince rode out from the castle. For weeks he searched in vain
for the girl who had aided his recovery. Then one day at the base of a wall that had fallen in ruins
he found a lone tender flower. It seemed to be a sign of hope. He knelt down beside it. But as he
was about to pluck the flower, he noticed a shadow fall over him, and he heard the sound of a well-
known voice: "They call that flower a Forget-me-not. If it is broken, it will soon fade". The Prince
realized that the girl he had been looking for stood before him. He embraced her happily and kissed
her tenderly before carrying her on his horse back to his father’s castle. There they married, and the
young girl became the Queen of his heart.
Karl Wiener

Three brothers
Once there was a man, who had three sons. When he became old, he said to his sons: "Go to
take a look at the world. Make your own way and try to seek your fortune. I taught you as much as I
could do, but I cannot educate you in all you need to know as to be lucky in this life. You’ll learn
many things by your own experiences, but now and then remember your old father. I love each of
you in an equal manner".
The sons took heed of their father’s demand. They packed their rucksacks, laced their boots,
and cut a walking stick from the hazel tree. Before setting out on their travel they promised their
father to stand always by each other. So they left for their trip round the world When they reached
the crossroads, they studied the signs. The way to find their fortune wasn’t recorded. They
discussed in detail. Since they didn’t come to terms on the suitable direction, they each went their
own way. But before, they promised that whichever one of them should find his fortune first, would
send a message to the other brothers.
The three brothers scoured the world for many years. Their travels took them to many lands
and they put much distance between each other. The rain often drenched their clothes and the wind
dried them again. They ate mushrooms and berries and drank from the streams that they found on
their way. Sometimes they were invited for a meal. Then they were asked to speak of their
adventures since leaving home. On this occasion they also told of their father, who had sent them in
search of fortune. However, over the years their father’s image became distorted in their minds, all
his weak points faded from their thoughts, whilst his virtues were magnified in their eyes. When he
had chastised them, they accepted that he had been justified. So they were reminiscent only of his
goodness.
The customs of the people they met differed very much. In the course of time they observed
the local behaviours, otherwise the respective audiences wouldn’t have understood the tales on
their travels that their father had sent them on. One of the sons raised his arms to the heavens,
imploring his father for blessing. Another of the brothers bent down on his knees and clasped his
hands in prayer, when asking for his father’s forgiveness. The third son threw himself to the floor,
and as a sign of his humility, he let his head touch the ground. So they sat talking in front of their
host’s fireplaces, relating on their father and on the adventures in search of fortune. Over the years
they repeated their stories, embroidering the details as they went along.
Soon, the audiences grew so large that there wasn’t enough room in the small huts. Temples
were erected, where crowds listened to the tales of the adventures. However, since the brothers
weren’t able to be in several temples at the same time they each wrote a book detailing their
achievements and offering their advice. Eventually, the scribes in each of the countries read from
these books. But since in each country they spoke a different language, nobody was able to
compare the contents of the writings. As a result people quarrelled as to whom of the three brothers
had found the real secret of fortune.
The father heard from these disagreements. Being a wise man he knew all of the languages of
this world. When he read the three books written by his sons, he immediately realised that apart
from the stories having been elaborated in their own way to provide a better understanding to the
reader, the content was very similar. He sent out messengers and ordered his sons to return home.
After having been separated for such a long time each of the brothers immediately wanted to report
on how he had found his fortune. But their father told them to be silent. Then he himself told a story
about a man in search of fortune. The brothers were pleased; each believing it was his own story.
They didn’t recognize that their father was quoting only the corresponding chapters of the three
books, omitting the unnecessary embroideries. Having ended his story the father added: "Never
forget, your fortune will only last for ever if it’s not based on the misfortune of others". Then he
revealed his cunning, and the brothers realised that there is only one common way to fortune.
Karl Wiener

The apple tree

It is common knowledge, that once a wish is fulfilled, it immediately gives rise to new
desires. According to legend, even Adam and Eve were expelled from paradise as a result of their
foolhardy wishes. This is what nearly happened to our friend Joshua and I’d like to tell you his story.

It was a wonderful summer’s day. A gentle breeze nudged the big white clouds across the
blue sky. They looked just like giant blobs of whipped cream. Green meadows and fields of golden
corn stretched as far as the eye could see. A small stream meandered through the meadows and
skirted a hill upon which stood a tall apple tree. Deep clefts were to be seen on its bark and its
widespread branches gave shelter from the warm sun. For sure this tree had been standing there
for more than a hundred years. It was there in the shade under the apple tree, that Joshua lay
stretched on his back, his hands folded behind his head. He was tired after having played down by
the stream and from the heat. His sleepy eyes peered up at the leaves. The few sunbeams that
managed to penetrate, tickled his nose. The apples on the tree were small, green and far from ripe
but they promised a bumper crop. Joshua tried in vain to count them. There were many more
apples than he had fingers. The warm sun had made his mouth dry and Joshua couldn’t resist the
thought that the juice of an apple would quench his thirst. So, he stretched up on the tip of his toes
to shake the lower branches until an apple fell at his feet. He seized it and took a huge bite. But, oh
dear, the apple was sour and worm eaten.

The old apple tree had watched the boy. A soft breeze caused its leaves to rustle and Joshua
heard a whisper: The fruits that ripen too soon are often rotten and full of worms. You must
remember that for all things in life there is an appropriate time. - Joshua was astonished that the
apple tree was able to speak. He remained very quiet, since he didn’t want to miss a word as the
tree continued to speak to him: Sometimes your wishes seem to be of great importance before they
are fulfilled, but afterwards they often fail to come up to expectations. You may find nothing but
disappointment and this will give rise to further greed as you’ll discover, wishes that are fulfilled
during your life are finite, therefore you should always wait until the right time comes. The apple tree
grew silent and the rustling of its leaves soon lulled Joshua towards sleep.

The bright sun brought a dim red shine to Joshua’s half closed eyes and he saw a fairy
godmother stepping out of the shine. She whispered: Joshua, I grant you three wishes. Whatever
you ask me for will come true. But you should think carefully, since temptation is hard to resist and it
could be that you’ll overlook the most important things. And remember, there are only three wishes
and no more. This having said, the fairy godmother disappeared. Joshua thought long. Always he
had been angry when his elder brother treated him like a baby. So, he wished to become a
schoolboy. As promised, this wish was immediately fulfilled. Outdoors the weather was fine, but
Joshua was feeling hot and uncomfortable sitting in his classroom. He was disillusioned and dreamt
of the green meadows, the shade of the apple tree and playing by the stream. There were still two
wishes left. He began to think that maybe the life of a teacher would suit him better. His teacher was
always friendly and seemed to be familiar with all the things that a man should know. So, he longed
for the end of his schooldays wanting to teach his classmates rather than learning his lessons.
Hardly had this wish crossed his mind when it became true. Now he found himself standing before
the class of children, having to teach them to read and write and many other things. But, oh dear,
Joshua suddenly realised he just didn’t have the knowledge how to teach. So, his pupils, who were
thirsty for knowledge, made him sweat with their questions and all he wanted were to be far away
from them. It was then that his grandfather came to mind. His grandfather was always cheerful,
knew how to tell very interesting stories and seemed to enjoy his life. So, he decided he would like
to be a man like his grandfather. And again, hardly had the wish crossed his mind, when it was
granted. He found himself sitting on a bench in front of the house, winking up at the sun. The sun
warmed his old limbs and he felt well. But when he tried to get to his feet, he had to lean on his
stick, since walking was difficult for him. He searched his mind for a good story but nothing came to
him. His grandfather’s stories had developed over the years, garnered from his experiences
throughout his life. It was after that, that Joshua remembered the words of the apple tree;
everything in life has its right moment. What a disaster: There seemed no way back to the happy
days of his childhood, since he had used up all of his three wishes. However, wonders will never
cease. His fairy godmother touched him with her magic wand and he came out of his dream. From
that moment, Joshua made a decision. He would keep any wishes to himself until the time would be
right and their fulfilment would bring him uninhibited joy.
Karl Wiener

The bridge

Long, long ago the place where these days a gentle breeze passes over green and fertile
fields was covered by a dark and eerie forest that seemed endless. The forest was so huge, that no
one had ever been known to venture to the far side. Deep in the forest there were hidden lakes and
small ponds, many types of animals and thousands of very old oak-trees. In the middle of the forest
there was a large clearing, through which ran a deep ravine that seemed insurmountable. On either
side of the forest there lived people, who worked diligent and hard trying their very best to earn a
living. They were not blessed with riches and would have dearly liked to make their way deep into
the dense undergrowth in search of the berries and mushrooms that they knew grow there. But they
rarely ventured very far as they were afraid they might lose their way. As a result the people living
on either side of this forest seldom came into contact, and so they didn’t really get to know each
other. But whenever they managed to trek as far as the ravine and caught sight of each other, the
fear of danger that always comes from the unknown made them argued and threaten across the
ravine.
One day a small girl wandered of by herself. She ended up deep in the forest and lost her
way. In her search for a way back home she became more and more disorientated. The further she
went she found she had to overcome more obstacles in order to made even the slowest of
progress. Finally she reached at the deep ravine and didn’t know what to do. On no account did she
want to go back into the dark forest and there was no way to go forward without falling down into
the depths below. So she sat down and wept with exhaustion. She felt very sad and alone.
At the same moment a small boy also happened to find himself on the opposite edge of the
ravine. His thirst for adventure had led him into the forest. And just like the girl he had lost his way.
When he heard the sound of crying, he looked around anxiously thinking it might be a ghost, who
had followed his way. But soon he realised the crying came from across the ravine and then he saw
the light-coloured dress of the girl on the opposite side. He shouted across and gave her a wave.
The girl saw his signals and waved back. They both breathed a sigh of relief, no longer did they feel
alone. The children were unaware of their parents hostility.
Meanwhile the light began to fade and as nightfall came it redoubled their anxiety. Fortunately
it was a starry night and moon kindly showed his face. Both children encouraged each other by
whistling, singing and shouting. But finally they were so overcome with tiredness and they fell
asleep. Strangely, they both had the same dream. This dream showed them a way to come
together. Next morning, when they opened their eyes, they saw it had drizzled with rain over night.
The clouds had already disappeared but there was still some dampness in the air. The sun had
risen and sent warming rays towards the earth. As the children who were still feeling sleepy rubbed
their eyes, their dream had become truth. A beautiful rainbow bridged the ravine. They imagined
they would be able to rescue themselves from their loneliness meeting each other at the top of this
rainbow.
At home the girl’s parents as well as those of the boy had spent the night worrying about their
children’s fate and as soon as dawn came the following morning, they sat off in search for them.
After having roamed about in the forest for many hours without a sign of the children both reached
their side of the ravine. This time they had other problems than squabble and threaten each other.
Although the discovery of their lost children made them happy they were horrified when just at that
moment both the girl and the boy were on the point stepping off the edge of the ravine to try and
climb the rainbow, in order to meet each other. The parents rushed towards the children and pulled
them back just in time to prevent them from falling to their deaths. For a long while they stood
around deep in thought an feeling sorry for their hostility they had shown each other. They gradually
came to realise that the common care for their children’s welfare was more important than all
anything else in this world. They agreed that to prevent their children from facing any further
disaster, they would immediately get to work, building a strong bridge across the ravine that had
separated them for all those years.
Karl Wiener

The shadows
Once upon a time there was a little boy that lived in a small town. His name was Peter and he
was something of a rascal who enjoyed having fun at other people’s expense. But he only played
the sly boots by day. When night fell he lost his courage. Maybe he had heard or read too many
stories about ghosts and monsters, anyway the darkness made him terribly frightened.
One day, Peter had been playing with a friend, and didn’t go home until after dark. Drizzle fell
down from the sky, the street lamps were on, and the wet surface of the road reflected the light.
Peter went as fast as he could, for frightening dark figures pursued him. Sometimes they followed
him and sometimes they hurried ahead, but they were always present. Peter turned his head
anxiously with each step. As quickly as he ran, his pursuers were faster than him. Every time when
he stopped under a street lamp to catch his breath, they had already gathered around him. But,
when he took refuge in a dark corner, the dark figures had disappeared. He looked anxiously
around to discover the hiding-place where they lay in wait for him.
It was such a moment that Peter heard a gentle voice whispering to him. "Don't be afraid. It’s
only the light from the lamps that casts your own shadow on the walls and on the road." – In all
probability it was a fairy godmother just like those he had seen in his books who was trying to calm
him. She spread out two fingers of her hand, moving them like a pair of scissors. Peter saw a
shadow appear on the wall opposite him that had all the appearance of a stork’s bill making fun of
his fear. But the fairy godmother could see Peter was still frightened and she took pity on him,
offering to free him from his shadow. I don’t know how she did it - for sure she had a magic wand.
Be that as it may, when he came out from his hiding place, he found the shadows had disappeared.
He heaved a deep sigh of relief and ran the rest of the way home as quickly as he could.
His mother asked him why he was late but Peter decided to keep his encounter to himself. He
ate his supper in silence. The panic had made him feeling hungry and tired. Later, when he lay
down on his bed, he was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. In his dreams he saw
children romping about in the lighted streets trying in vain to catch their shadows or to jump over
them. He heard their shouts of joy but sadly he could only stand and watch. He wasn’t able to join in
their antics for he had lost his shadow. He felt lonely and excluded. Oh dear, he thought, If only the
fairy godmother would give me back my shadow!
The next evening Peter went out on the street but he didn’t step out of the shade. He was afraid
that his friends would all laugh at him because he had lost his shadow. However, after a while his
enthusiasm made him to join in the game. It seems the fairy godmother must had heard his plea.
He joined in the fun and - wonder of wonders - his shade followed him. Wild with joy he matched his
friends as they tried to jump over or catch their shadows. Yet however hard they tried, the shadows
always won.
Tired but happy he returned home as his mother called him for supper. After the meal he went to
bed. The light from the street-lamps shone gently through the curtains. Before Peter fell asleep he
practiced the magic of casting the shadow of his fingers on the bedroom wall just as the fairy
godmother had shown him. From that day his shadow became his best friend.
Karl Wiener

Goldfinger
Early each morning, before sunrise, the farmer wakes from his bed and goes to tend his
cattle. He clears the stables, feeds the horses and milks the cows, all before sitting down to eat his
breakfast. A hearty meal then sets him up for the day’s work. As the sun rises, he harnesses the
horses and brings them to the fields to help till the soil. During the winter the farmer fells some
trees, cuts the wood into logs and put them into piles to dry. The tiled stove in the farmer’s house
will then be fed with the logs to provide heating for the cold weather. In spring when the last of the
frost has gone it is time to sow the seeds for the summer that lies ahead. Then at summer solstice
the diligent farmer is again busy, cutting the hay and storing it in his loft before the rains come.
When the grain ripens and the golden ears of corn sway gently in the warm summer breeze the
farmer has to labour from morning until night to reap the rewards of all his efforts. Even when the
harvest of grain is done there are still jobs to do. Outside in the fields a crop of potatoes and rape
waits to be gathered before winter sets in. Then the noise of the flails sounds from the trashing floor
as the chaff is sifted from the wheat. Sacks are filled with grain and carried to the mill for grinding
into flour, whilst the straw is left in the barn.
One day it happened that our farmer met a good-for-nothing, an idler, who spent his time
cheating other hard working people of their money. He introduced himself, saying his name was
Goldfinger and boasted that he was skilled with his hands. To prove the point he managed to pick
some coins from the farmer’s pocket without him knowing it and he asked: "What do you do with all
that straw in your barn? I can see you have so much in there that it’s bursting out of the door". The
farmer in all innocence explained, that he cuts up some of it to mix with the oats to feed his horses
since that way the oats are more digestible for the animals. The rest he uses for litter to give the
cattle a nice warm straw-bed for the winter. "That won’t you make very rich", said the idler. "If you
give the straw to me, I can turn it into gold for you". The farmer reflected on these words. He already
had heard that some people rake in the money in strange ways. So, he asked the idler what he had
to do to get changed his straw into gold. Goldfinger replied, "You only have to give me some money,
then I can make some preparations and your straw will work for your benefit until it will be
transformed into gold". The farmer didn’t wait to be told twice. He harnessed his horses, loaded up
his straw into his wagon and brought it, together with all his savings to Goldfinger's home.
The farmer wasn’t one to keep secrets. So he told everyone of his expected fortune. His
neighbours became excited at the news and went quickly to Goldfinger offering him their straw that
it could also be converted into gold. Willingly they gave him their savings to help pay for the project.
But as time passed the farmers didn’t see anything of their money or their straw and least of all of
the gold that Goldfinger had promised. In the meanwhile, their cattle fell ill since the farmers were
unable to give them any straw to keep warm, and being convinced that they would soon be rich,
they were no longer willing to get up early to care for the cattle. Their land also became fallow since
they believed to be free from hard labour.
Finally the farmers became impatient, because Goldfinger didn’t tell them why he was taking so
long to deliver on his promises. They went to his home and demanded to see the gold but
Goldfinger managed to send them away after excuses for the delay. He showed them some gold
that he had bought with the farmer’s own money for such an occasion. He said this was the first
gold made from their straw and some of them got a piece of it as a handsel for the expected riches.
In this way he could deceive the farmers for some more months.
The next summer the land was hit by a drought and the crops all died for lack of water. The
people began to suffer from hunger and the farmers came to realise that they themselves had
become idlers. Fortunately they had stored some sacks of grain from the days when they worked
their land. Goldfinger tried to buy this grain from the farmers for he was the only one in the region
who had any money. But the farmers were now wiser and wouldn’t sell him any grain until he hadn’t
repaid them all their money. From that day they never again trusted the word of an idler, even if he
promised heaven on earth.
Karl Wiener

The victim of his own mischief

Tomorrow, the teacher said, tomorrow we'll put our timetable aside and use the fine weather to
learn something of the gifts of nature. We'll spend the day up in the hills, so make sure you bring a
packed lunch and wear a stout pair of shoes. The children shouted with glee. Especially Charlie,
who wasn't one to enjoy sitting at his desk, looked forward to the following day.
Next morning, as arranged, the children met in front of the school gates. Instead of satchels
they had backpacks across their shoulders containing sandwiches and cookies that their mothers
had prepared for the picnic lunch. Once all children had gathered they set off. Talking and laughing
they trotted along, with an occasional song lending wings to their steps. From time to time the
teacher stopped. Gathering the children around him he pointed out something special. Here he
showed them a rare flower and there a lizard on a rock enjoying the morning sun. In this way, the
children were unaware that the path they followed led them higher and higher up the slope, but
beads of sweat trickled down their faces.
Finally they arrived at their destination, a shady spot where they could rest and enjoy their
picnic. The walk had made the children hungry. They tucked into their lunch and quenched their
thirst with water from a nearby stream. This encouraged the teacher to explain the natural water
economy. Children, he said, when your mother boils a kettle of water at home on her stove, the
steam that comes from the boiling water drifts towards the window. There the cold glass causes it to
condense and form droplets of water again. I'm sure; you've all seen this in your mother's kitchen.
It's the same with nature. The ocean is like a big cauldron of water. The sun heats the sea and
steam rises from the surface to form clouds in the sky. The wind pushes the clouds over the
mountains. There they cool down causing the moisture to condense and fall as rain or snow. The
water then collects in ditches or oozes away into cracks in the ground and emerges again in the
form of a spring. It then trickles quickly down the slopes, forms torrents and streams, and becomes
a river before flowing back into the ocean again. We humans, the teacher concluded, we interfere
with this circulation by building dams or sinking wells and conduct the water through pipes to our
homes. If we want to enjoy the gift of nature, all we have to do is open the tap and water flows into
our pots. The children listened very attentively to what the teacher said, since many of them had
wondered how the water arrived in the taps from behind the kitchen wall.
The class soon set off back home, but on the way, Charlie sneaked secretly away. He was
something of a rascal and was always dreaming up tricks to play on others. This time he thought he
would add his own contribution to the gifts of nature. That is to say he took a pee into the nearby
stream as it ran down the hillside. With his devilish mind he took great delight in the thought that
when his teacher reached home will turn on his tap to enjoy the gift of nature to which he, Charlie,
had made a contribution.
Laughing merrily the children made their way down towards the valley. Although the walk was
not as strenuous and they didn't sweat as much as on the way up, the dry air and constant chatter
made them thirsty again. They all longed for a cool drink and stopped at the source of a refreshing
stream to satisfy their needs. Charlie’s throat was also parched. Like the other children he bent
down to drink from the cool waters. But suddenly he shrank back. A thought flashed through his
head: the result of his misdeed might be trickling out of this very source. Bashfully he stood aside.
Thirsty or not, he would rather go without than run the risk of drinking his own water. It was many a
long day before Charlie was again able to enjoy the gifts of nature.
Karl Wiener

The puffed frog

At the beginning of spring, when the snow up in the mountains melts, the water trickles
between the cracks in the ground forming streams that finally join the river down in the valley below.
The river overflows its banks and floods the surrounding meadows. Later, as sunshine licks the last
remnants of snow from the slopes, the river finds its level again. The water seeps away leaving
small pools and ponds on the meadows. It’s here that a plenty of wild flowers adorn the meadows,
But as pretty as they may be, there is no way for you to pick them, as the ground is so soggy that
your feet would sink into the mud. Around the ponds you can see all kinds of life, dragonflies sweep
over the surface of the water and swarms of mosquitoes and gnats dance in the sunshine.
But the real masters of the ponds are the frogs. All evening in moonlight and through half the
night their croaking competes with the chirping of the crickets. It sounds like high-pitched laughter
but the frogs look at their noise as a melodious singing. In the midst of them there was a frog, who
seemed to be convinced to be a gifted singer, famous and honoured thereabouts. In fact he thought
to be the King of the ponds or at very least a bewitched Prince. Each night when the moon
appeared, he took a deep breath, raised his voice, and tried his best to drown out the chorus of the
others. But his miserable croaking was just that of a bumptious frog. So it was that he earned the
nickname of "Croakaloud".
On the church spire of the little village near the frog’s pond a couple of storks have built a nest.
Every year in autumn when the young storks have grown up, they prepare their long journey in
order to spend the cold season in warmer regions. Their flight brings them as far as to South Africa.
But in spring, when ice and snow have withdrawn to the summits of the mountains, the storks return
home to their old nest, and so they did that year.
Our storks had chosen the nesting place close to the pond with care, for the legs of a frog rank
on their menu as a great delicacy. Of course this preference is also known to the frogs, and the
inhabitants of the pond are watchful, especially when they hear the storks out, hunting for their
supper. But Croakaloud used to laugh at his fellow frogs. "What cowards you are", he cried, "you’re
afraid of a foolish stork. If he would come I’ll tear out all his feathers and push him into deep water,
where he’ll drown pitifully”. - However, during his boastful speech he hadn’t noticed that the other
frogs were no longer listening. They had jumped into the water and dived to the bottom of the pond
to hide. Meanwhile, Croakaloud continued sitting on his stone, making his heroic speech. But
directing his eyes upwards in order to summon heaven for witness of his courage, he saw a shadow
fall over him and found himself looking directly in the eyes of a stork. He was struck dumb,
becoming frozen on the spot with terror. But as luck would have it, just at the moment when the
stork jabbed at him with his long beak, the bumptious frog lost his balance and fell backwards into
the water. The shock of plunging into the cold water brought him to his senses, and he quickly hid
under a large leaf. In this way he escaped from certain death.
This time, the stork was unhappy and waited in vain for his prey. The frogs remained quite still
in their hiding places until the enemy had stalked away. Then they finally reappeared on the
surface. Croakaloud was the last one who appeared, and he was still pale with fright whilst the
others had already recovered their poise. Since that day all the frogs laugh whenever Croakaloud
starts to boast about his pluck. One thing is for sure: Croakaloud has taken the mockery of his
friends to heart and his voice no longer drowns out the chorus of the others.
Kitty Hamagochy

Kindness Is The Best Reward

It was the hottest day of the year and all the rivers in the forest were starting to dry up.
Lamb, all fluffy small and white, was a servant to a young lion who had a black mane and dark tan
fur. Master Lion was snuggled contently in his dark, cool cave accompanied by a well of which he
could have all the water he needed. But today the well had gone dry. So Master Lion demanded
Lamb to go and fetch him some water. As Lamb was his humble servant she did as Master Lion
said and went to the farthest part of the forest where she knew there was usually water. But the
creek where she normally got her water from was almost dry. Lamb took a large leaf from a near by
tree and filled it with the last remaining, cool water.

On her way back she found Raven, a beautiful large black bird, dragging himself on the
ground.

Lamb came up to the Raven “What is wrong dear Raven?” she asked politely.

“I have flown for so long with the sun beating down on my black feathers. I am so hot and
need something to cool myself with.” Raven answered so full of exhaustion.
Lamb brought up the leaf from behind her and said “Please take a drink and perhaps dip your wings
in to cool off.”

Raven did and was extremely grateful to Lamb.

“Now I ust leave you dear Master Of The Sky or Master Lion will be angry with me.”
responded Lamb.

“I am indebted to you!” Raven cawed to her as he watched the lamb quickly leave. He
stretched out his wings an ascended into the air.

With that Lamb went on her way. As she passes by the old oak tree she heard a soft,
squeaking noise. Lamb peered through the hole under the great oak’s roots where Mother Vixen,
small and elegant, lived with her four cubs. Mother Vixen stood above one of her cubs, peering
down at the runt of the litter, so small and frail, who was laying on the ground breathing heavily.

Lamb asked “What is wrong with you cub dear Mistress Of The Oak?”.

Mother Vixen answered in worriment “My baby is so thirsty and there is no water for so long
and I can not leave my cubs alone for fear of those who seek to hunt us.” she spoke franticly.

“Fear not.” spoke Lamb kindly “For I have with me some water to revive him.” She brought
up the leaf and the cub sat up slightly and drank to his hearts content.

“I thank you Lamb your kindness in unmatched. If there is anyway I can repay you look to
the oaks for me” Mother Vixen almost cried.

Lamb smiled and was back on her way. She was only a short wile away from Master Lion’s
den when she heard blunt wheezing from a clearing up ahead. She looked past the forest bush to
spot Elder Wolf, his fur of silver gray but his body thin and frail from malnutrition, stumbling his way
through the forest brush. Lamb became fearful of her life and began to trot away. But from a thud
she turned and saw Elder Wolf laying motionless on the Earth‘s floor. Lamb approached slow and
silently placing the leaf with the remaining liquid by him. But for fear he might give chase after his
revival, she scurried off in the opposite direction.
 As Lamb walked back to Master Lion’s den she hung her head in sadness for now she had
no water to give to him. But she trotted back tired and huffing, for not even she had had a drink. She
went inside and looked around for Master Lion. She found him in a corner sitting contently in the
coolest part of his den.

She bowed her head low to Master Lion and said “I have no water to give you Master Lion.“
He looked to her bearing his long, white fangs “And why not?”

“Because on my way I encountered many thirstily animals and I did not feel right leaving
them in that condition.” She told him honestly.

“Fine then sense you have no water I shall drink your blood!” Master Lion roared getting up
and chasing her out of the den.

Master Lion chased her all around the forest until Lamb was cornered, at the bottom of a tall
cliff. He roared and was about to pounce. Lamb covered her head with her hoofs and closed her
eyes waiting for Master Lion to jump her. But this did not come for instead she heard a caw from
above. She looked up to see Raven swoop down unto Master Lion, entangling his talons in Master
Lion‘s mane. Lamb then heard a snarl and there running out of the forest brush was Mother Vixen
and her cubs. They got hold of Master Lion’s stamping paws and swishing tail as so he could not
move. But he easily swatted them away and roared loudly in victory.

“Now I shall finish you!” He called, glaring daggers at the timid lamb.

But before Master Lion could have his chance the animals heard a deep hunting howl from
on top of the cliff face. They all looked up to see Elder Wolf staring menacingly down at Master Lion.

Elder Wolf called down “You dare heart an innocent soul so full of kindness? Then you do
not deserve to reign here!”

Elder Wolf then sprang from the cliff and shot down towards Master Lion. Teeth exposed
and clamped down to the Master Lion’s throat. Thus killing him.
Joseph Trance

King of Things, A Christmas Story

Mechanical bugs were crawling up my legs. I couldn’t move. Ants, spiders and robot roaches
were at my toes. I tried to kick them away but the bed covers held them , escape was impossible
and they began to crawl up my legs. I tried to kick them away, push them with my feet…move them
away from my clawed toes…I tossed, tried to turn… “No!..No…stop!!”

The rustling noise woke me out of the dream, and my body broke out in a sweat as I lay there. I
shivered and moved my toes. No bugs or robots were present. But…rustle...rustle…crinkle of
paper. It was about 3:30 in the morning and I lay still to make sure that I wasn’t still dreaming.

Sssshhh. Crinkle…rustle, rustle..no… no dream. Someone was downstairs. Someone was

messing with the Christmas presents. I slowly crawled out of bed, trying not to wake Sue and
Simon. Rustle…crinkle.

“Sue?” I whispered. She turned but didn’t wake. “Sue..” But all she did was hug Si-Si harder. He
wasn’t much help…he just molded his body closer to her and his paws rested on her nose and they
snored in unison. I stared at them…”o.k….” Time to man up and be the Husband/Protector. Crap.

I adjusted my eyes to the darkness of our room and looked for something...anything I could use
as a weapon. I moved slowly trying not to wake wife and min-pin, and my feet touched down on the
boxes that Dave’s robot bugs had come in, all ten of them. It had been awhile since we had
gotten…toys. Although Dave was 22, he was our nephew and he loved bugs, especially ones with
AI. We had taken them out of the boxes and wrapped them in just the paper. Dave loved to figure
things out. The varied shapes of the wrapped bug bodies would throw him. We had gone a little
overboard. Sue and I had spent the night wrapping them, and I forgot we hadn’t cleaned up before
we fell into bed. It took enough energy just to go downstairs and place them under the tree away
from the manger …clean up would have to wait. I mumbled, “should have taken the time.”

Weapon. My mind raced and I remembered the scissors we had used to cut the wrapping paper.
Not much of a weapon…but it would have to do. I bent down, feeling along the rug and found them.
“ OW!”

I moved my hand from the points to the handle. They were about 6 inches long. I grabbed them
and held them tightly. “O.k., I’m going down.”

I made my way across the room tip-toeing around boxes, wrapping paper, and tape dispensers . It
was like walking through a landmine. I opened the door to the loft and peeked out. I could see the
reflection of the Christmas Tree lights along the wall of the loft; Red, orange, yellow lights twinkled
and shifted. It was pretty. I waited and watched, and then…rustle..rustle…crinkle.

And the the lights on the wall darkened as a thin shadow broke their glow and made it’s way across
the wall…followed by…no…way!!

Crap! Crap!...What the ..??? Jeeezzzeee…”Jesus…Jesus….”

I bolted back into the room and shut the door. Sweat covered my body. I shook as I held onto the
handle of the scissors. I looked over at Sue’s sleeping form. She was now under the covers and I
could see Simon’s ears on the pillow next to her.
( Wake them. No. Yes…they have to know what’s happening. Then what…what can they do?

No, I have to take care of this myself. I’m the man. I’m the protector. I’m the King of this House.

This is my place..my home. I gripped the scissors tighter. I breathed deeply. I will not
let..monsters…”.aaahhh!!!”)

I pulled open the door and made my way onto the loft. The lights danced along the wall. I gripped
the scissors and began my way down the stairs. Rustle. Rustle. I stopped. The movement was
coming from around the bottom of the stair case where the tree was. All the decorations…
someone was at the tree. Shadows moved on the wall. I took a breath. Jesus. I moved
down...down..down...bathed in multi-colored lights. I made it about halfway down when I saw
movement. The shadows moved. I breathed deeply. God, help me. I listened. I stood on that
step. Yellow, red and blue lights flashed around me. Time passed. Silence. Tick tock. Tick tock.
Then. Rustle..Rustle…scurry!! I turned around and began to bolt up the stairs. Sue!

I stopped. Sue…Simon. My… family. Mine. I’m the King. I gripped the scissors harder. I turned
around again. I took one step, then another. Step by step. Down..down..I stopped. Shadows now
moved in the light; thin, pointy, followed by…giant..I know that…those. I KNOW.. they’re… what
the..?

I made it to the last stair and raised the scissors. O.k… here I…

Bright white light flashed. It was the brightest light I’d ever seen. Not sun bright…brighter. Not
yellow, White. The whitest White…ever. I covered my eyes with my right arm. The scissors fell.

I fell around the corner of the staircase into the light. Slowly I moved my arm away from my eyes
and adjusted my vision. And there it was. I stared. There they were…and there He was. No way.
My mind needed something else…something real. I scanned; Christmas wrapping paper was
strewn around the base of the tree; ripped and torn pieces, the evidence of their emergence. That
was Real.

My eyes went back to them… and Him. They were crowded around him. Robot ants, and spiders
and roaches were…kneeling…bowed…supine…before Him; the baby Jesus laying in the manger.
White light shone all around Him. I moved slowly. I looked at the Nativity scene; Mary, Joseph, the
Shepherds, the animals and now these…new additions; mechanical bugs with artificial intelligence.
Then it hit me. A joy began to fill me...a realization about all of it. I knelt down , and then lay down
before Him: The King. No matter how much we could advance in our technology, our intelligence,
our making of things, it would all be artificial. It still would fall short of His Glory. Forever and ever
He would be King of all creation: King of Kings, and King of All things… forever. Amen.
Jennifer Niemann

Planet Alpha
Alpha was the name of a small planet near the galaxy of earth. This planet was so small that the
inhabitants could live unrecognised of other living beings in the universe. The capital of Alpha was
Kryslor a beautiful town between the red desert of Merty and the blue fields of Esgabon. The red
desert of Merty was a very large desert that consisted of red sand and red stones. In this desert
there lived terrible creatures that looked like giant worms that lived under the sand and only came
out when they smelled food. The blue fields of Esgabon were a landscape of meadows of blue
grass with a few Krierly trees. Krierly trees were trees whose stems looked like a helix. In the centre
of Kryslor there was a wood of Blinky trees. Blinky trees were coloured trees that gleamed at night.
When the full moon shined these trees glitter golden between every petal. In the middle of the
Blinky tree wood there was a big building. This building was the Central Stade Building an institute
of space. Here in the biggest building of Kryslor worked all the scientists that looked into space. The
building looked like a giant space ship and had a big museum in the ground-floor where people
could look at all inventions and technologies. The rest of the town consisted of one-family houses
with flat roofs where the inhabitants had a big garden. The inhabitants of Alpha were called
Motaner. Motaner were sea living creatures that had learned to live on the land. They were very
intelligent and could develop very high technology. One of the greatest scientists was Whisper a
mussel with a silver shell. He had the job to look on the earth to find a way to communicate with the
men. Since a long time he observed the earth and he learned that there were many languages. He
found out that there was one language called English that was spoken in the most parts of the earth
and he tried to learn this language. If he learned this language, he could tell the men of earth that
they came in peace. An expedition to earth was planned and they wanted t! o commun icate with
the men to exchange experiences and technical inventions. The Motaner knew that the men were
very aggressive, dangerous and frightened. They knew that the men sometimes do things they
regret later. If the Motaner came to earth they want to tell the inhabitants that they came in peace
and so Whisper learned their language. One night Whisper ended his work and taught the language
to the other scientists who wanted to do this expedition to earth. In a conference room all scientists
met and told about the expedition and about the language. Whisper was one of the travellers but
there were two other scientists and three astronauts. Intellige a blue whale and Carry a lobster were
the other scientists. Carry was the headmaster of the institute and the leader of the expedition. He
learned the new language very fast so that they could start the expedition in a few weeks.

Whisper and his wife a goldfish with glittering scales had breakfast when his snake phone rings.
The Motaner used extremely long snakes who worked like the telephone on earth. Whisper went to
the phone and said: “ Hallo? Here Whisper?” “ Here Intellige. Carry said it’s time. Meeting in one
hour at the Central Stade Building for the last control. Be on time please. Till soon.” “ OK.” Whisper
hang up the phone and ended his breakfast. Then he went out and glided so fast he could to the
Central Stade Building. Whisper enjoyed the Blinky tree wood while he glided through it. When he
arrived in the conference room, the controls began and three hours later he sat in the shuttle. Carry,
Intellige and Whisper waited for the astronauts. When the astronauts came the countdown began. A
voice told: “ Last control! Instruments?” The pilot said: “ All OK.” “ Machines?” “ All OK.” “ Course is
OK. The countdown began at ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Ignition.
Good luck on earth.” The voice disappeared and the shuttle started.
Robert Fortini

Webber´s Choice

Vinny Webber, or Webby, as his friends called him, stood in rigid expectation while his crew made
the final adjustments on the graviton pulse emitters. To take his mind off of the upcoming
experiment, which was the work of his life so far, he thought of the road that had brought him to this
particular point in the timeline of his life.

It had all begun with the discovery of the graviton, that elusive sub-atomic particulate that
was responsible for the transference of gravitic energy. Before the graviton had emerged from the
obscure shadows of theory into the blinding light of fact, gravity had been described as a field, or a
force, and a weak one at that. But, it was this very weakness, out of all proportion to the expected
energy yields of massive objects upon space-time that led theorists to dream of a particle that was
responsible for transmitting the force of gravity over a distance. According to theorists, this particle
would have the unique property of being able to slide through the theoretically porous substrate of
the membrane-universe upon which we live. Where it went once it left our brain-verse was open to
speculation: was there another brane-verse parallel to our own? Did gravitons simply bleed off into
other, curled up, dimensions of our own universe? Or, was there some unimaginable place that
served as a receptacle to these truant gravitons?

But, all of these questions were of no interest to Webber. What flashed through his rather
quick mind on the first day of the much heralded discovery of the particle was an experiment. It was
a very bold and presupposing experiment, but that didn’t bother Webber. He was a bit manic when it
came to planning things, especially if he thought he already knew the answer.

So, Weber wrote about his experiment for his doctoral thesis, and it was met with great
approval. The thesis was published and taken up as a proposal by several private and government
entities. Webber found himself in the enviable position of sorting through several offers to find the
best one.

The winning bid, so to speak, came from Vision Technologies, a newly founded research
company funded from the profits of several other big name corporations. Privately, Webber thought
the company was just a government smokescreen, and so he approached the offer with caution,
constantly reiterating his rights to complete control and protecting his intellectual property. But,
because of the huge amounts of funding dollars at his disposal, he accepted the offer and
proceeded with the experiment.

Webber approached the experiment along the same lines as the S.E.T.I program. He
would send patterned pulses of gravitons from powerful emitters, and those pulses of gravitons
would leave our universe and end up…well somewhere. It was Webber’s hope, and this mirrored
the hopes of the S.E.T.I. experimenters, that there would be someone on the other end to respond.

He stood now, some ten years later, his hair beginning to recede and grey, his mid-
section getting a bit paunchy, and his glasses a bit thicker, poised to hit the switch on the
experiment that defined his life.

There were members of the press, government officials, representatives of the military,
and the obligatory men in dark suits, all crammed into the plexiglass visitor’s box. They watched
everything expectantly, as if they hoped to see the alien response that afternoon.

Webber shook his head in scorn. How long had S.E.T.I. been operational? Forty years?
And there had been no response from the presumed multitudes of sentient species in the universe.
 Webber wasn’t surprised though, given the vast reaches of the universe; billions and
billions of light years of cold vacuous eternity. He remembered the critics of S.E.T.I. calling it a
search for a needle in a haystack the size of Manhattan, and he knew that the same criticism could
be levied against his graviton experiment. But his experiment was more limited in scope than
S.E.T.I.; he was focusing a tight graviton beam across the universal boundary in measured binary
pulses. If there was no one around in the general neighborhood of the gravitic anomaly his
experiment would produce, and if that someone wasn’t technologically advanced enough to
respond, then his hopes for contact would be dashed.

But it was of no moment if he failed to elicit a response from any trans-universal aliens, it
would still be success-simply shooting gravitons through the brane barrier would secure Webber’s
place in scientific history.

Presently, Webber noticed one his assistants looking pointedly at him, and when he made
eye contact, the assistant gave Webber the “thumbs-up”. Finally, the equipment was ready.

Webber had weighed the value of giving some sort of carnival barker speech for the
benefit of the press, but in the end he had decided against it. So, when he was assured that
everyone was at their posts, that every piece of equipment was up and running, he took his place at
the central data and control station.

“Prepare to fire,” he said calmly, though inside he was a jangle of raw nerves. The
department heads from data acquisition, the emitter arrays, and the power sub-stations all gave him
the “thumbs-up”.

Webber’s computer screen was flashing the question: Fire? With a shaking hand,
Webber pressed the “Y” key on his keyboard. The computer began a ten second count down,
speaking in the voice of the computer from the original Star Trek T.V. series. (Webber was always
delighted to hear this voice, and he loved it when guests recognized it.)

When the count reached zero, the emitters began to thrum with power, humming as they
cycled up. When they reached an almost ear splitting volume, they fired, releasing the pent up
stream of gravitons. The room jumped in a series of pulses, as the streamed gravitons slightly
warped the space-time in the vicinity of the emitters.

The complex series of graviton emissions fired through the programmed sequence and
began again. Webber looked at the numbers that scrolled across his computer screen. He had to
look at the final results twice, just to make sure-but in the end, there was no denying the results,
and a contented smile spread across Webber’s face. He had succeeded. Now his name would be
held up in equal regard with names like: Hubble, Hawking, maybe even Einstein. Webber sat for a
moment, not speaking, in no hurry to reveal his success. He was content to just sit and savor the
sweet taste of being the first to achieve an historic scientific milestone. For the first time in his
frenetic, driven life, he was at perfect peace.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called finally. “We have succeeded in sending gravitons into
another dimension, or universe.”

After a brief pause, the room erupted into furious applause. The crews whistled and
whooped, ecstatic after many years of hard work, but Webber was already focused on the returning
data-the nature of the realm into which the gravitons had been fired was becoming clear.

Echoes, much like those produced by radar, of the gravitic pulses, came back through the
membrane separating the universes. The mind boggling power of the super computers crunched
the numbers into a shape the eye could see, and there it was: a solar system that almost mirrored
our own.
 Nine planets: three rocky worlds close to the medium sized star, three large gas giants,
and three cold ice balls in outlying orbits. The numbers suggested something very strange about the
third planet from the star. Was it hollow? The gravitic echoes said yes. It was not made of the
standard minerals of a typical rocky planet, either. There were much higher concentrations of metals
and refined materials. Webber also noted that there were virtually no asteroids in the orbits
occupied by asteroid belts in our own solar system.

Was it possible that the residents of that planet had mined the asteroid belts, hollowed out
their planet, and reformed it? Webber couldn’t begin to imagine the technological advancement of a
society that could accomplish such a feat. He felt a slight feeling of disquiet wriggling through his
chest.

“Oh no,” he mumbled, watching as the computers confirmed his assessment.

“Mr. Webber,” the data chief called in a shaky voice. “Are you seeing these readings?”

Webber could only nod his head.

One of the G-men in the dark suits pulled open the plexiglass doors of the press box and
strode across the highly polished, black linoleum floor of the test chamber. He stopped his
mechanical progress at Webber’s station, and pulled a fold-out badge from the inside pocket of his
midnight-black blazer.

“Gibbons,” the man said, in a tight mid-western accent. “What’s the meaning of the
readings?”

Webber looked at the badge, cursorily checking it: NSA, it read. Webber’s automatic,
withering tirade directed at the man who dared enter his domain without permission, died stillborn
on his lips. One simply did not screw around with the NSA. Webber knew that they had summary
powers that superseded the constitution.

“Um,” Webber stammered. “The readings suggest a solar system, so it’s quite clear that
the theory of parallel brane-verse physics is the working reality…”

“I’m well acquainted with the theories of multi-universal physics,” Agent Gibbons snapped.
“Tell me what the readings mean!” Webber’s eyebrows lowered in distaste. He felt the deep-seated
scorn that many in the scientific community felt towards those who squandered their intellectual gifts
in the service of an obtuse government. But, he wouldn’t underestimate Gibbons now. “Well,” he
explained, not quite believing the reality of the situation, even as he admitted the facts. “It seems
that there is a planet occupying the third solar orbit that has been extensively altered by a
technology far in advance of our own.”

Gibbons nodded. He seemed to reach, mentally, for some point of reference, some pre-
determined directive, before saying, “Shut it down.”

Webber began to protest, but Gibbons pulled a rather large handgun from the deep
recesses of his mid-night coat. “I said, shut it down,” the agent grated.

Webber was shocked right down to his soul. He came to several realizations at once, all
of them brought into being by the huge handgun that pointed at his pale, bespectacled face, like a
naked singularity. One realization was that the idea that we all live in a free country was a chimera,
the next, seemingly born of the first realization, was that he’d better do as Gibbons said.
 “Shut it down”, Webber gasped, sorrowfully. The other three G-men left the plexiglass
press both and fanned out around the test chamber, making sure to stay clear of the graviton
emitters. They too held massive handguns.

Gibbons stepped away from Webber’s station and stood in the center of the chamber.
“This facility is now under lock-down,” he announced, in a stentorian voice. “In accordance with the
previsions of the renewed and expanded Patriot Act of 2013, I am assuming command and control
of this installation, and I am superseding the constitution for the duration of this national security
emergency.”

A palpable silence descended upon the test chamber, as the graviton emitters cycled
down, and the experiment came to a close. Webber sat back in his chair, defeated, morose, and
petulant. He watched, idly, as the computers continued to sharpen the details of the captured data.
He noted the bumper sticker stuck to the frame of his computer’s monitor, ‘My other computer is a
HAL 9000!’ it read. Webber sighed, as if releasing a pressure that if kept pent up, would kill him.

Gibbons sent the other G-men around the room collecting cell phones and other assorted
digital gadgets. Webber watched Gibbons obliquely, noting the practiced ease with which he
handled the gun, the hawkish way his dark eyes travelled the room, seeming to lock onto the gaze
of anyone even entertaining the idea of mutiny. Webber felt a stab of jealous rage over the loss of
his experiment (which to him amounted to the loss of life’s meaning), and he squirmed in his seat. It
was maddening for him to realize that he was totally dependant on the whims of the government,
that his continued participation, most likely as a consultant, on this project (which was no longer his)
was the best he could hope for.

“What will you do now?” Webber asked the watchful Gibbons.

Gibbons pursed his lips. “We’ll have our own specialist on alien contact review this data,”
he answered. “Of course, that will take some time, but after we’ve assessed the situation and given
our report, it’ll be decided by the higher-ups what should be done next.”

Webber sighed. It was just as he’d feared. He was defeated. It was over. He’d be lucky to
be kept on as a consultant, now. The whole project would very likely be classified ‘Top-Secret’,
thereby killing the possibility for Webber’s fame, for amassing a fortune from private sector
applications of his technology. Private satisfaction over a scientific first be damned, he thought. He
wanted his glory!

Gibbons flipped open his cell phone and pressed the speed- dial button. He had just
pressed the phone to his close- cropped head, when a resounding thump filled the air and shook
the test chamber with an almost seismic brisance. An unseen force sent Gibbons flying from his
anchored spot of control in the center of the highly polished floor, through the air, to land in a rag-
doll heap twenty feet away.

The three G-men, seeing their leader dispatched by something that looked like the by-
product of science, aimed their heavy guns at Webber. Webber moaned, an embarrassing sound of
involuntary terror, and shrank down in his seat.

He was saved from certain death by a flashing arch of purple, Tesla emission lightning. It
grew from the center of the test chamber, in the very spot that was the focus of the graviton beam
emitters. Crazy, ravening bolts of purple plasma swayed and danced like otherworldly cobras in a
celestial snake charmer’s basket. They crackled and hissed, and Webber’s gaze was torn between
the lightning and the wild cascade of numbers that flowed across his computer screen. He had
completely forgotten about the G-men and their guns.
 This was not the product of Webber’s machinery. The sensors told him that. This was a
manifestation of power, an act of will from elsewhere. This was the answer from the others- those
who dwelled in the hollowed out planet on another universe.

So quick, Webber thought. They must have had graviton emitters at the ready, though for
what purpose? If they had them just lying around, why hadn’t they called before this?

Webber’s scattered thoughts were interrupted by two things happening at once: the G-
men had recovered from their initial shock at the presence of the lightning, they danced among the
bolts, dodging them like enemy fire, and Webber could see that his control station was their
eventual destination. Then, as the G-men made their stumbling, halting way across the test
chamber floor, the lightning abruptly vanished with a suddenness that was just as startling as its
appearance.

“It wasn’t me!” Webber shouted into the silence, hoping the implacable agents would
believe him. They stopped and half stood, crouched down, looking like burglars caught in the beam
of a policeman’s flashlight.

Before the G-men could straighten and reply, a figure appeared suddenly on the center of
the floor. The G-men scattered, rolling on the black linoleum like marbles tossed by a child. They
came to their feet almost as one, and trained their weapons on the figure, that stood now with a
bemused expression on her all too recognizable features.

Webber’s jaw dropped. His mind was overloaded with surprise, technological envy, and
fear in equal measures. He knew the figure standing in the center of the floor. As a boy, he had
guiltily played with himself while looking at her ripe thighs and glossed lips. How could they have
known about her?

The question had only one answer: somehow, in the intervening time between Webber’s
first fired stream of gravitons and now, the others, those on the other brane, had tapped into his
computers, mined all of the data, plied the circuitous confluences of the web, and now they knew.
They knew all of human history and knowledge.

“I am only a holographic image”, said Marilyn Monroe. “If you fire those handguns, you
will murder those poor, innocent bystanders in the press box.”

Webber’s shock was beginning to wear off. He looked more closely at the image of
Marilyn. She stood with her thick legs shoulder width apart, hands on her full hips. She wore the
little white dress from, ‘The Seven Year Itch’. The others hadn’t skimped on a single detail: her hair
moved in synch with the movements of her body, it even stirred ever so slightly in the ambient air
currents of the room, her dress fell about her curvy form in folds that could never be replicated by
any computer humans possessed. Webber could only shake his head in wonder at the
technological masterpiece this replication of Marilyn Monroe embodied. Even her eyes, those
windows to a human soul, seemed alive with wit and an unfathomable intelligence.

Those eyes locked with Webber’s and the sheltered scientist was held in thrall. “Vinny
Webber,” Marilyn purred. “You have reached through the walls of the firmament to find what lay
beyond.”

Webber stood, took a breath to speak, and was promptly interrupted by one of the G-
men. “Don’t say anything!” he snapped. “Wait for the contact specialist.”

“Contact specialist?” Webber asked scornfully. “What experience does your contact
specialist have with an extra-universal species?”
 The G-men groped for a reply, but Webber didn’t give them a chance, it was after all a
rhetorical question. “It’s too late for that!” he cried, having had enough of the G-men and their guns.
He wanted his control back. “Our guest is here now!”

It seemed that the G-men knew they were beaten by the very circumstances of the
situation. They collectively took a step back, but they refused to put their handguns away. To
Webber they looked like scared little boys holding pop-guns.

Webber looked at Marilyn-the hologram-the alien communication device. “Yes, I am

Vinny Webber,” he admitted it like a guilty criminal, and was instantly ashamed. “I sought
communication with…whoever was there.” He cursed himself for a fool. It was true, he thought, he
was inept at this. This should have been handled by a professional. First contact was beyond his
awkward social skills.

Marilyn looked amused, a slight twisting of her luscious lips that suggested a smile, a
slight upswing in the curve of her fastidiously plucked eyebrow. “As we’re sure that you’ve
surmised,” she said with an easy use of contractions, conveying their complete mastery of English.
“We’ve mined and assimilated the data in your entire world-wide computer matrix.”

Webber nodded. “I gathered that.”

“And so,” she continued, “we have no questions to put to you. But you Webby-you must
have a universe of questions.” She said this with an edge of temptation in her voice that Webber
could not refuse.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “I am fascinated by the fact that you have mined the asteroid belts
and…”

Marilyn held up her hand, her pink nail polish glittering in the harsh fluorescent lights of
the lab. “That’s far too tedious and time consuming a process,” she said derisively. “Do we have
your leave to speed things up a bit?” She asked this while biting her glossy upper lip with her
pearlescent bottom teeth.

Webber knew that she was just a construct, just a means of communication, but still she
had the power to fill him with juvenile lust. “What do you have in mind?” he asked tremulously.

“Sit down and relax,” Marilyn commanded in a throbbing bedroom voice.

Webber sat as if his life depended upon it. He did not look at the others in the room. He
did not notice how they stood with vacant eyes, still as if they were machines that had been shut
down, their usefulness far past.

Marilyn made a short gesture with her left hand and the world ceased to exist for Vinny
Webber. He fell through a glittering coruscation of rainbow colors, spinning as if he were caught up
in a river of Technicolor dreams. He lost his grip on himself, and for an instant (or was it an
eternity?), he seemed to lose consciousness.

When his thoughts returned, he found himself floating, bodiless, above the planet of the
others. He saw the sparkling surface of the hollow planet, carved, it looked from pewter and
festooned with bits of gems.

His viewpoint shifted suddenly, and he found himself skimming over the surface of this
strange world at no more than twenty five meters above the needle-point spires of the fantastical
architecture of minds and tastes beyond his reckoning.
 Webber noticed no nature on the surface of this planet, and he got the feeling (he didn’t
know where from) that the inhabitants of this place had somehow superseded nature, gone beyond
the strictures of the natural world. Supernatural, Webber thought, and if he’d been corporeal, he
would have had goose bumps.

He experienced another dizzying shift in perception, and now he found himself within the
outer shell of the planet. He traveled through twisting corridors of metal and what looked like plastic,
filled with various fluids. He found himself within power couplers where naked bolts of bluish plasma
streamed with all the power and virulence of a star, on their way to fuel the vast complex of the
planet. And all at once, comprehension filled Webber’s mind, like a bolt of raw power from the very
corridors of this place. The whole outer sphere of this planet was a computer!

This realization filled Webber’s mind with transcendent wonder. It was not the size of the
computer, though it was global, it was the nature of the computer: vast banks of continent sized
computing subsectors were made up of molecule sized circuits that produced computational and
storage output that surpassed the total computation power of the Earth by a factor of 10 79. How he
knew this, Webber could only guess. Some kind of telepathy, he assumed. In fact, this whole trip
could be taking place in his mind, all the data supplied by the others.

Another realization struck him as he continued his disembodied flight through the planet-
computer: he knew what all of this computing power was for. The inhabitants of this planet had
surpassed the need for bodies. They kept their consciousness in these vast memory banks! They
lived their immortal lives, storing the collected experiences of their periodically assumed corporeal
forms, watching the minute changes of the universe through the eyes of remote sensors sent out
eons ago to the edges of their universe, bathing in the conflux of the wisdom and knowledge
gathered over the course of their millennial lives.

Webber was swept from the titanic memory banks and brought to the hollow center of the
planet. Here, a gentle golden radiance filled the air and Webber’s supplied knowledge told him that
this light was created to match the emitted spectrum of their sun. The light came from the center of
the hollow space, radiating in a sleepy, late afternoon glow.

It was on the curved walls of the inner chamber that the aliens existed in their corporeal
forms. They lived and breathed, loved, and created art with bodies made to order. They walked
surely through their lives, supplied with the wisdom of thousands of past lives. They wanted for
nothing while they lived, and when they grew tired of their current incarnation, they rejoined with the
world/computer and pondered the universe until they were ready to incarnate again.

They were free. Free from all the troubling constraints of mortal life. They would never
watch a loved one suffer and die from the ravages of disease or violent death; they would never
know loss of any kind. They had mastered themselves and their universe. Webber was jealous.

He came to his own body in a vertiginous snap that almost sent him sprawling on the
floor. “Jesus Christ!” he cried, looking at Marilyn with tear streaked eyes.

She nodded solemnly. “Do you see our dilemma?” she asked gently.

Webber forced his mind to work, trying to shake the after-images of his journey through
other’s world. “Yes,” he said morosely. “I know.”
 Marilyn nodded again. “In the face of the knowledge of our contact, we have determined a
99.99%probability that humanity will be plunged into an Armageddon conflict. Governments will feel
threatened, religious groups will see us as either Gods or Devils, and unfathomable numbers of
people will die in the ensuing carnage that will mature into full-scale nuclear war.” She raised her
eyebrows as if pondering what should be done.

“It doesn’t have to be that way” Webber pleaded, though he knew that other’s
assessment of the situation was undoubtedly correct.

Marilyn made a sweeping gesture with her right hand. “There is a solution to the dilemma
of our contact,” she allowed. “But, this must be your choice, Vinny Webber. You shall choose for
mankind, because you undertook to contact us-the responsibility is therefore yours.”

Webber swallowed, he had a notion of what the others were going to propose. He shrank
back from deciding the fate of mankind, but he had seen the sublime vision of how beautiful
existence could be. “I will choose then,” he said, his voice somehow steady.

“Very well, then,” Marilyn said, holding her arms out wide, her breasts thrust forward
aggressively. “We offer those of you whom we choose, entry into our system, where you will live out
eternity fulfilling every wish and curiosity of the spirit.”

“What about the others?” he couldn’t help but ask. “What will you do with the ones you
don’t choose?”

Marilyn sighed and ran her fingers through her platinum blonde hair. “What fruit would
grow from such sick seeds after the healthy ones were removed from the balance?” she asked
darkly. “We could wipe out the technology of graviton emission, but it would only be rediscovered at
some later date-forever is a long time after all.

“They cannot remain to threaten us,” she stated implacably. “They would be destroyed.”
It was only now that Webber understood why the others had chosen the form of Marilyn
Monroe. They had chosen the unattainable dream embodied. They had chosen that dream and
then they had tempted him with attainment at last, with fulfillment of the ultimate wish. They had
chosen wisely-he could not resist.

“Yes,” he croaked in a suddenly dry throat. “I choose heaven.”

“And destruction for the ones that cannot come?” Marilyn asked ominously, implacably.

Webber sighed. He could feel the enormity of his decision, he could feel some guilt, but it
was tempered by the enormity of the prize.

The sociopaths and the bullies, the religious crazies, those that would judge and kill
others without cause, those that would crush out beauty because they could not control or
understand it-it was right that they should lose, he thought.

“Yes,” he said again, his voice now strong. “I choose.”

Heinrich von Buenau

Left behind in a foreign Country

(a short story experienced and written by Heinrich)

We all are all used to living our everyday lives. There is nothing special about it. It is simply human.
Sometimes, life gives us a pause or timeout. Nothing special about it. But sometimes, in our
everyday life or during a pause something extraordinary and totally unexpected happens. Maybe,
as in the following story, fate has decided to give us a lesson.

At the age of 12 my parents registered me for a boy scout vacation in beautiful Austria, a country of
high mountains, great lakes and wonderful forests. There is no better place on earth for spending
your holidays. I remember the place vividly. Fifty kids and our attendants lived in a big wooden
house next to a great lake for two weeks. Behind it, two big snow-capped mountains stretched up
to the sky.

There were three sunny weeks with much fun and noodles, the Austrian basic food. And in review
there surely would have been nothing left than the impression of a good time without special
incidents or events

Yes, there would have been nothing left! But there were two days in the last week of the holidays
when heaven started to touch the earth!
*
For the last week was planned a two-day bike trip to another lake in some distance of our camp,
with camping in tents and sleeping bags. Naturally I had registered for that event as 24 other boys
had done also. Such an adventure I did not want to miss, especially as that expedition would be
leaded by Thomas, my favorite attendant.
So, on Saturday morning, Thomas and 25 good-humoured boys went over to the nearby village, on
our backs rucksacks filled with sandwiches and bottles, and a sleeping-bag under the arm. In front
of a hire service for bicycles we stopped.
A middle-aged man came out, greeted Thomas, and leaded us into a backyard. There were set up
25 youth bikes, and one for an adult, in a row. The man smiled and said: “These are your`s! Good
luck!” Then he went off!
Immediately the first of us rushed forward, grasped a bike and got on it. Others followed quickly and
after some moments everyone sat on his chosen bike.

I don`t know why I had stayed on my spot near Thomas. Perhaps because I did not like muddles?
Or because I was a little bit slowly in general? As a result of my hesitation I stared now at the bike
that had been left. It was the smallest and worst one of all!
My eyes went with an urgent appeal to Thomas. But he shrugged only his shoulders and said with a
helpless smile: “So, Heiner, that`s your`s!” Some of the guys laughed! One of them said: “A
mosquito bike for the Mosquito!” Now all laughed and I blushed! Mosquito had been my nickname
the year before. I had been very small and thin, and Thomas had created it. Although I had grown
up since that time, I was now of normal height and thin, Thomas still used it.
I took my bike and fate its course!

Some minutes later we were underway along a big road. In some distance right and left hand we
were accompanied by big, majestic mountains. But only a few cars passed by, and so we were the
most of time among ourselves.
I had no problem to keep pace with the others, as far as the tempo of our column was not so high
and I was well-trained and in good condition through playing soccer and table-tennis at home.
So, it was a nice trip and in the late afternoon we let the road behind us and took a windy mountain
path. Have an hour later we reached our aim, the Milchstaedter See. It laid calmly and smoothly in
front of us. No one else was visible.

Thomas decided to take just here our nightcamp. We built up some small tents and then several of
us went into a nearby forest.

“We need much dry wood for our campfire tonight!” ,Thomas had said, and we were now busy
carrying it together and creating a big amount of branches and twigs.

“Well done, guys!” said Thomas with a satisfied grin. “ So half an hour till sunset! Who wants can
use the time for bathing. The others can recover a little bit or help me enlighten the campfire!” I was
among those who run down to the lake. The sun stood deep above one of the mountains on the
other side. The water felt clear and fresh, when I jumped in. Returning from the lake I noticed that
the campfire had already been enlightened. A pot with soup was steaming at one edge of it.
Most of us had eaten up their sandwiches during the ride, so the soup was welcomed for supper.
Some minutes later we all sat around the fire, our cups filled with hot soup. Some of us hold big
potatoes, which they had taken from a nearby field, on a stick into the fire. Meanwhile the sun had
completely gone and now the moon had risen up above the lake and gave it some silver shimmer.

After supper Thomas said, ” Well, before starting with our campfire evening we have to clear the
point of breakfast. We need breads, butter and marmalades. So, who will go for it tomorrow
morning?” He looked challenging into the round.

Someone asked, ”Where should we get it? We are here in the wilderness!” “No”, said Thomas, “
nearby must be a small village. I can see it here on the map There surely will be a bakery!” He
looked at his map. ”There is also a bigger one on the other side of the lake. But that is too far away.”

One of the bigger guys raised his hand and said, “Okay, I am in!” Thomas nodded approvingly and
said, “Who else?” No one said a word, some looked embarrassed down. “No one?” Thomas
insisted. “Well, Mosquito, would you go?”

I was a little bit surprised that he addressed me so directly but had already considered this
possibility in my mind. “Okay”, I answered, “ I am in, too!” “Well”, said Thomas, “ then we can start
now with the funny part of the evening!” Approving chattering and cheers were the answer!
Thomas took a mouth organ out of his pocket and began playing the melody of a popular youth-
fellowship-song. Enthusiastically we joined in with singing. Our “campfire evening” had started.

It went on with singing and playing well-known group games, and we really enjoyed it. Normally we
were divided into two groups, those from the orphanage and us “normal” ones. But this magic night
near the silver shimmering mountain lake we forgot all prejudices, animosities and rivalry, and
became for some hours an unity.

Then Thomas opened a book read and aloud a funny, fictional short story from a book. When he
closed the book we all knew that now the end had come. “Well, guys, we have tomorrow a hard day
in front of us. "So, you wants to stay for a while here at the campfire, can do. But I will go sleeping!
Have a good night!”
With this words he raised up and went to his tent. Most of us decided also for sleeping, but I fetched
my sleeping-bag and laid down near the campfire. Some others did also!
For a long time I looked to the stars above, which were shining very clearly. Alone in a foreign
country among some other lonely guys. But I felt sheltered! Was there someone above watching
us?

Sometime far beyond midnight I fall asleep.

Next morning I got early out of my sleeping-bag. It was a clear, fresh summer morning with blue-
white sky. I was in a good mood. It surely would become a good day!
Everybody else seemed still sleeping. The fire had got out during the night, and the pot with tea
was cold now. Nevertheless I took a cup of tea from it and went down to the lake. There I sat down
for a while.

When I returned I remembered the “job”, Thomas had given me. So I went to the tent, where the
other guy was sleeping. I was a 3-men-tent and he was laying on the right side. Carefully I wakened
him. “Hi, time for our job!”

For a moment he stared slightly irritated at me. Then he said, “Ah,yes! Wait, I will come out!”

Some minutes later we were ready to start with our bicycles. Suddenly he looked sceptically at my
bike. “Well,” he said, “take a better one!”So I inspected the other bikes and chose one with 5 gears.
My small one had only one. What a difference that made! I really enjoyed riding fast at the side of
my comrade.

A quarter of an hour later we reached the nearby village, Thomas had spoken about. It seemed still
to be in sleep. Nobody was to see in the road.

After some minutes of search we found a store with a bakery sign on it. But it was closed. I read
aloud, “Opened from 8 to 18. Sundays closed!” I looked at my watch. It showed 8.15!
“It is Sunday today, isn`t it?” I asked my comrade a little bit insecure. In summer holidays I always
lost a little bit my time orientation. He nodded, “Yes, it is!”For a moment we both said nothing. Then I
said, “And now, what shall we do now?”

After a short discussion we decided to ride to the village on the other side of the lake, Thomas had
mentioned the eveing before. “It is too far away!” ,he had said, but there was no alternative. Coming
back into the camp without food would be too frustrating.

It was a nice, sunny morning and we rode through forests and along fields and lovely meadows.
After an hour we finally reached that village called Milchstaett, from which the lake had its name.
And, luckily, we found an open bakery.
We bought fifty-two rolls, 2 for everyone in the camp, and enough butter and marmalades. After we
had all stowed away in our rucksacks we immediately started again.. Though we were just on the
opposite side of our camp, we decided to surround now the lake completely.

So, after another hour, our camp came in sight and when we reached it, we were welcomed with
loud cheers. We felt like “heroes” coming back to their folks.

After we had emptied our rucksacks the preparations for breakfast were made. A pot with coffee
had been already set above a small fire and rest would be soon done. So my comrade and me
decided to refresh us shortly at the lake.
Maybe 7 or 8 minutes later we came back into the camp to participate in breakfast. But to our
surprise no one was sitting around the fireplace. More than this, the fire was out, the coffee-pot
removed and no rolls, butter and marmalade visible. In some distance all were busy packing up
their things. Thomas came up to us and said, “Hi, guys! You should also pack up your things. We
shall start soon!”

I stared at him with big eyes and finally I said, “Where is our breakfast?” He looked a little bit
surprised around and then he answered, “Well, it looks that nothing is left. You are too late!”

I was totally upset now. “What! You tell us that our rolls have been eaten up? Why didn`t YOU take
care that our rolls were spared up? We have a morning trip of more than hours behind us for the
welfare of all here, and now we have to start with an empty stomach! This is not acceptable!” The
last words I cried, so that some of the guys looked over to us.

Thomas shrugged with his shoulders. “You should have taken better care of your breakfast. Now it
is as it is! Come on, pack your things up!” And with this words he turned around and went back to
the others.

When we left our night camp I felt deeply disappointed. Again and again I repeated one thought in
my mind: “How could they do this? We rode around the whole lake for their sake, and they ate up
our rolls! And Thomas didn`t hinder it!” I really couldn`t believe it.

I was again riding on my small bike and temperature increased quickly now. After some kilometres I
felt that I was not in a good state. Pedaling became difficult. I was forced myself to keep on with the
others, who obviously were in a good mood and wanted to be home as quickly as possible.

After two hours of riding I felt completely exhausted. I rode up to Thomas and said: “Thomas, I need
a pause!” So he a sign to the others and said: ”Okay, guys, we make a short pause!”

I really had hoped that I would recover. But the sun were now burning merciless on us, no shadow
to hide and my last gulp of my tea bottle had already be done.

After 10 minutes Thomas asked me: ”Better? Can we go on?” I felt his impatience, and that of the
others, and answered: ”I need a little bit more time. But you can ride on. I will follow later and make
up with you.” He looked scrutinizing at me: “Are you sure?” I nodded: “Yes! Go on!”

So he gave the starting sign for the others and after 2 minutes they were completely out of sight.
Now I, that 12-year-old boy called "Mosquito", was really alone with my small, shabby bike under
the burning sun! Left behind in a foreign country!

Although I had agreed that they rode on I now was deeply disappointed. “How can they get done it
after all what I have done for them this morning? How could Thomas accept my offer knowing my
bad state and the true reason for it?”

After perhaps ten minutes I gave riding a try, but after 100 meters I stopped again. It was senseless!
The sun was burning hot and I felt totally exhausted. What should I do? I put my bike down and laid
beside it on the ground. Alone in a foreign country I only tried to sleep on that spot.

Maybe ten minutes later in a half-aware state of mind, I felt that someone touched my shoulder.
“Hey, what`s up with you? Did you have an accident?” I opened my eyes and looked into the face of
a middle-aged man, who had bowed above me. “Ah, yes!” I said, “I`m okay! Only make a pause!”

“So, you cannot lay here, “ he insisted. “I can take you with my car, if you want!” Now I saw his car
with an open door standing on the road.“No, thanks!” , I answered, “ I am okay and will soon go
on!” He seemed not convinced, “Are you sure? It is no problem. I can take you and your bike with
me!” I raised up, “No, no, I am okay! Thanks!”
He looked again sceptically at me, then he said, ”Good luck! But you should hurry. It looks that a
thunderstorm is coming up!” Then he turned around and went back to his car. After half a minute he
was out of sight.

The wake call of of that man had brought me back on my feet. But I still felt terribly weak and my
head was aching. Nevertheless I got on my bike and started, very slowly, riding again. Maybe after
fifty meters I felt the first raindrops on my skin. I looked to the sky, and only now I noticed that the
sun had completely disappeared. Dark clouds were hanging above me!

I remembered the man`s last words, "A thunderstorm is coming up!" Indeed, a bright lightning
followed by a loud thunder confirmed it now. And as if that been a command heavy raining started
immediately. Within a minute I was drenched to the skin.

But in the same time there happened a complete change with me. My body and soul seemed to
have completely recovered, and inside me I felt a power I never had felt before. Really surprised by
it I started riding faster. And faster, till I flied like a bird along the road with only one thought in my
mind, "I will show them the sting of the Mosquito"

*
Try to imagine the following scenario! A lonely, straight road in a picturesque mountain landscape.
Dark clouds, heavy raining, flashes of lightnings followed by thunders a small boy on small bike
flying like a bird over the asphalt.

Maybe it was the strong tail wind that supported in my efforts. But mainly it was my new inner
energy that drove me forward. I felt like a hero on his horse, risen from death, on his way taking
revenge for all that injustice he had experienced.

I heart was filled grim and joy, deep determination and singing in the rain! And then suddenly, after
half an hour I saw the first of them! They had searched for shelter under the rotten roof of an old
bus stop. Thomas was among them. I passed them without giving them the simplest look!

Maybe they first had thought that a "ghost" on a bike was underway. But now I heard Thomas
calling my name. I didn`t react. Then I heard his command, "Come on, guys! On the bikes!"

I didn`t turn my head around. My eyes were fixed on the road. I was a guy with a mission, the others
somewhere in front of me should also feel the sting of the "Mosquito"!

During the next hour I passed most of the other guys, who were scattered in small groups
underway. I totally ignored them but inside I felt a deep satisfaction!

But some guys were still in front of me and we were now already in the near of home camp.. So, I
intensified my efforts once more! And actually, after a while the four leading ones came in sight. It
looked as if they made a race among themselves to be the first in our Camp.

Although I mobilised now my last energies I didn`t succeed catching up with them. Half a minute
after them I reached our home.camp. I felt totally exhausted but also very happy. So, the Last had
not become the First but I had shown them the sting of the "Mosquito"!

I felt that something really extraordinary had happened. I had been totally down and then came that
miraculous recovery. Yes, I felt that it had been a miracle. But did I understand that it was God who
had done it?
Well, honestly spoken I do not remember. I believed in God at that time, but maybe that I didn`t
realize it clearly that it was his merciful intervention which helped me out of that great need!
*
20 years later I was also underway on bikes with a small group of young guys. One of them, a
redhaired orphan, became weak and couldn`t follow the pace of the group.

So, as far it was a bicycle race against other groups allowed my guys to go on in that race. But I
stayed with that weak, red haired guy and accompanied him over hours without any grudge. I only
felt pity with him and the deep desire to bring him home.

Well, I am not sure whether I would have acted in same way without that experience of totally
breakdown and loneliness on the Austrian road. I think that experience gave me the heart for that
weak guy. And this was surely God`s work, too!
The End!