There were two doves in a forest .
One day, a bird catcher came to their tree.
It rained nicely so, he stayed there.
The birds saw him shivering.
The female dove said , husband, as he is under our tree we should treat him as our guest.
Once upon a time, on a faraway place where just king and queen reigned on a peaceful kingdom, there was a beautiful mist-covered little town in a verge of a dense forest. People called this town Everl'ast. This town was surrounded by thick black walls, and was very quiet. The people in the kingdom believed that this town was deserted from years ago. But every month when there was a full moon, people could always hear faint sounds from the town, as if some townspeople made party inside Everl'ast. At this period of time, there was some kind of magic which lured people who unluckily walked past the town. People had been reported missing every month on the full moon. Some living witness said that the missing people walked in to the town and never walked out of it.
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Mrs. Darling screamed, and, as if in answer to a bell, the door opened, and Nana entered, returned from her evening out. She growled and sprang at the boy, who leapt lightly through the window. Again Mrs. Darling screamed, this time in distress for him, for she thought he was killed, and she ran down into the street to look for his little body, but it was not there; and she looked up, and in the black night she could see nothing but what she thought was a shooting star.
She returned to the nursery, and found Nana with something in her mouth, which proved to be the boy's shadow. As he leapt at the window Nana had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, but his shadow had not had time to get out; slam went the window and snapped it off.
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All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!" This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.
Of course they lived at 14 [their house number on their street], and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there is was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.
It was the birthday of the Infanta. She was just twelve years of age, and the sun was shining brightly in the gardens of the palace.
Although she was a real Princess and the Infanta of Spain, she had only one birthday every year, just like the children of quite poor people, so it was naturally a matter of great importance to the whole country that she should have a really fine day for the occasion. And a really fine day it certainly was. The tall striped tulips stood straight up upon their stalks, like long rows of soldiers, and looked defiantly across the grass at the roses, and said: 'We are quite as splendid as you are now.' The purple butterflies fluttered about with gold dust on their wings, visiting each flower in turn; the little lizards crept out of the crevices of the wall, and lay basking in the white glare; and the pomegranates split and cracked with the heat, and showed their bleeding red hearts. Even the pale yellow lemons, that hung in such profusion from the mouldering trellis and along the dim arcades, seemed to have caught a richer colour from the wonderful sunlight, and the magnolia trees opened their great globe-like blossoms of folded ivory, and filled the air with a sweet heavy perfume.
Dad located Gaby's silhouette outlined against the background of the splashing wave. Minutes earlier, they had seen together how the stone, flat as a table, sent off a silvery spasm. It was a slight ray taken from the sun, turned into a golden iridescent greenish blue. The tiny curls of steam from those mirrors emanated an unnoticeable salty haze, heightened by the midday heat. Before them, the bright spike curved in the air, trying to free itself, gasping deaf cries that got embedded in the thin sieve, tight less than a minute ago, but relaxed now, twisting in circles trying unsuccessfully to catch the stones around Dad´s hands, Gaby's feet.
Poor thing, the girl´s voice rode gracefully on the splashing sound of the sea, I feel sorry for the little fish. Dad´s fingers got lost in the fish´s mouth, broke the small-toothed smile, gave way to the right hand. His inexperience was revealed in his clumsiness. He struggled for several seconds with the tangle of sieve.
It was quiet in the room. I had been listening to the morning for a while. There was nothing in particular – all the same: birds singing cheerfully, our neighbor, quite an elderly woman, talking her dog off for the whole-night absence, the next-door neighbor’s cat was stealing into the house after rather a hectic and tiring night urging for some rest.
All the same it was as every single morning in our street and, probably, in the whole town. I had stayed in bed with my eyes closed a bit more, before opening them and meeting my room – the same room as it was yesterday, the day before yesterday, a week ago, a year ago, ever since I remembered myself. The sun emerged into the room through the curtains. It always examined the room as if trying to find anything worth paying attention, but left as soon as it was eleven, perhaps to check other places and linger on something more fascinating.
Once upon A Time, there was an old poor woman that was homeless. She hadn't eaten for some days and was dying. One afternoon she was walking around a forest looking for some food. She lost the last drop of her energy and felt down. She felt something hard on her hand. She picked it up and …………. it was a key !!!
It was a very important key: it was the key of the secret of time. But for the old lady it was only a golden and diamond key
There was once upon a time a king who was very rich in lands and money. When his wife died he was inconsolable, and for eight whole days he shut himself up in a little room, and knocked his head against the wall, so desperate was he. They feared lest he should kill himself, and they therefore put mattresses between the tapestry and the wall, so that however hard he might strike his head, he could do himself no harm. All his subjects planned amongst themselves to go and see him, and to say everything they could think of as likely to comfort him in his sorrow.
Some of them made up grave and serious speeches; others again went with cheerful, even gay words on their tongues, but none of them made any impression on him. In fact he hardly heard what they said. At last there came before him a woman clad all in black crape, with veil and mantle and long mourning garments, who wept and sobbed so loud and so violently that he was filled with astonishment.
She said that, unlike the others, she had come with the object of adding to, rather than of lessening, his grief; for what could be more natural than to sorrow for a good wife? As for her, she had had the best husband in the whole world, and it was her part now to weep for him while she had eyes in her head. Thereupon she redoubled her cries, and the king following her example, began to wail aloud.
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring- time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. "How happy we are here!" they cried to each other.
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.
"What are you doing there?" he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.
