Eli's Shadow

                                                Eli's Shadow

                                                         By Valerie L. Egar

Some shadows walk politely in front of the person they belong to, and others obediently follow behind, but everyone knows a shadow is not supposed to run off by itself. A good shadow jumps when its person jumps, dances when its person dances and sleeps when its person sleeps.

Eli’s shadow refused to do what shadows do. If he climbed a tree, his shadow stayed at the bottom and took a nap.

        When Eli walked to school, his shadow wandered into the woods to play with leaf shadows and left Eli to struggle through his arithmetic all by himself.

         Eli’s mother asked him to run to the neighbor’s house to borrow a cup of sugar. His shadow stayed home and watched TV.

         Worst of all, when Eli slept, his shadow slipped away and caused all kinds of mischief.

         Who opened the gate and let out Farmer Tyson’s cows?  Eli’s naughty shadow.

          The shadow picked all of Mrs. Thorne’s lilacs, woke sleeping babies and made dogs howl. The worst part of all is that Eli got blamed!

        “I hate him!” Eli said.  “All he does is get me in trouble!”

Eli didn’t know what to do. His mother tried gluing his shadow to the bottom of his feet, but when he put on his socks and shoes, the shadow scrunched close to his body and neither of them could move.

His mother glued the shadow to the bottom of his shoes. That didn’t work either.  When Eli took his shoes off, the shadow ran away, dragging the shoes behind him.

One day, Eli’s teacher sent a note home from school. “I’m afraid Eli’s shadow wandered into the boy’s room when we were having a spelling test,” the note said. “I found water all over the floor and toilet paper wrapped around the sink.”

“Enough!” said Eli’s Dad.  He bought a plane ticket and sent the shadow to live in a jungle far, far away.

The shadow liked the jungle. He hung from the trees with monkeys and slept in the shade of a banana tree. He bowled with coconuts. But, after a while, he missed Eli. They’d been born together, after all.

For a short time, Eli was happy to be without his troublesome shadow, but he grew pale. He couldn’t eat. He wasn’t interested in playing. Part of him was missing.

“Oh my,” the doctor said when he saw Eli. “Where’s your shadow? Did you have a shadowectomy?”

“I sent it away,” said his father. “It was always wandering off, causing trouble.”

         “I hated him,” Eli said. “He was bad.”

         “He kept wandering off because you didn’t like him,” said the Doctor.“You never got to know him and make him your friend.”

          The Doctor sang a beautiful song that woke the shadow and called him back to Eli. Faster than the speed of light the shadow returned, lured by the doctor’s song.

          Eli didn’t realize he’d be happy to have his shadow back, but he was. The shadow was equally happy to see him. Eli got to know him better and after that, they stuck together.

When Eli hiked to the top of a mountain, his shadow hiked with him. They admired the view, the colors richer and more beautiful because they were together. Everything was better for Eli now that they were friends and they lived happily ever after.

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Copyright 2017 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author. 

Published March 26, 2017, Journal Tribune Sunday (Biddeford, ME). 

A Convenient Marriage

 A Convenient Marriage

                                          By Valerie L. Egar

     Once upon a time, a very long time ago, the King of Xan warred with the King of Dacquet. Soldiers burned towns, salted fields so nothing would grow, and destroyed great libraries. Many soldiers and citizens of both kingdoms suffered from the lengthy war and died.

     Years passed and the kings forgot why they were fighting. Their treasuries were depleted and their kingdoms in shambles. They decided to make peace.  The King of Xan had a son, Prince Eldreth, and the King of Dacquet, a daughter, Princess Ishmere.  To maintain the peace, they agreed their children should marry.

   When Princess Ishmere heard, she cried.  All her life, her father said people from Xan were barbarians, beasts with foul breath and hooved feet. Her tutor whispered they snarled like vicious dogs. They ate food a person from Dacquet would never touch— dragon’s toes! The Princess locked herself in her room and wept.

Prince Eldreth was no happier about the marriage. He knew all about people from Dacquet.  The women had pig noses and snorted. They were clumsy and dropped things. No wonder—they had hairy bear claws for hands. Worse, they ate food a person from Xan would never eat— griffin’s wings. The Prince thought about running away.

That night, the moon was full. Its light poured into the Princess’ room. A wise old woman appeared, drawn to the Princess’ sorrow.  

“What would you have me do?”

“Turn me into something that repulses the Prince, so he sends me home.”
The old woman nodded and with a wave of her hand, the Princess was transformed. 

She became exactly what the Prince imagined: a clumsy girl with bear claw hands and a pig’s nose, with an appetite for griffin's wings. 

The same night, in Xan, the Court’s magician went to the Prince’s room. “What would you have me do?” he asked.

“Turn me into something that horrifies the Princess, so she runs away.”

The magician turned the Prince into exactly what the Princess expected: a foul smelling, hooved beast that snarled, whose favorite meal was dragon’s toes.

When the Prince set eyes on the Princess in her wedding dress, he wasn’t shocked by her hairy bear hands or pig’s nose. After all, she was from Dacquot.  She was exactly what he expected and he didn’t send her home.

The Princess was prepared to meet a smelly barbarian with hooved feet and that’s what she saw when she met Prince Eldreth. After all, he was from Xan and  she couldn’t expect better. She wasn’t frightened and didn’t run away.

 After the wedding, the Prince and Princess hardly saw each other. The Prince, embarrassed by his stench, stayed in his part of the castle, listening to music and remembering how he danced before he had hooved feet.

The Princess, embarrassed by her clumsiness and ugly hands, stayed in her part of the castle, listening to music, and remembering how much she loved to sing before she snorted like a pig.

One day, the Prince started down the castle’s circular staircase, singing his favorite song. He couldn’t see the Princess at the bottom.

 Walking up the stairs, the Princess thought about the dances she enjoyed when she lived with her father. She couldn’t see the Prince at the top of the stairs, and she twirled to imaginary music.

As he rounded a curve, the Prince glimpsed the Princess and saw how gracefully she moved. Even her heavy hands gestured beautifully. For the first time, the Prince saw Ishmere as she really was. With that, she transformed into the smart, graceful young woman she was.

At the same time, the Princess heard a fine singing voice and looked up to hear the Prince singing her favorite song. “He can sing?” she thought. For the first time, she saw the Prince as he really was and with that, he changed back into the kind, noble young man he was.

After that, the Prince and Princess put aside everything everyone told them about people from Xan and Dacquot. They ruled their kingdom in peace and lived happily ever after, discovering more about each other every day.

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Copyright 2017  Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author. 
Published March 19, 2017, Journal Tribune Sunday (Biddeford, ME).

The Miser's Punishment

The Miser’s Punishment

            By Valerie L. Egar

            Once upon a time, a very long time ago, a wealthy man lived in a fine mansion in a bustling city.  He had everything he needed and more— bedrooms filled with gilded furniture, even though no one ever visited, food to feed many, though he always dined alone. Everyone knew he was stingy. “Oh, he wouldn’t throw a diamond to a star to help it twinkle,” the fruit seller said.

            “Nor give the moon a piece of silver to make it shine!” agreed the butcher.

            “He’s such a miser, he’d deny the sun the gold to make it glow,” said the baker.

            A star, the moon and the sun, overheard the comments and were angered. They were each generous with their light and held it back from no one. The star twinkled in the night sky with other stars and inspired people to write songs. The moon glowed silver, lighting forest paths at night for people and animals. The sun’s rays nurtured trees and flowers, making them grow. Who was this human who would dare deny them? They decided to test him.

            The following day, the star, disguised as a girl, knocked on the rich man’s door. Though her smile sparkled, her clothes were poor. “Please, sir,” she said sweetly,  “would you donate to the Star Fund? It will help—”

           

The miser scowled and shook his head. “No!” he said. “ Go away!”

          The next evening, the moon tried. She went to his door disguised as a woman. Long silver hair fell to her waist and her eyes shone blue as the oceans she so powerfully moved.

The miser opened to her knock. “What do you want?”

         Her pale hands held a bowl that shone like the finest pearls. “Will you donate to the Moonglow Fund? No donation is too small.”

            “Go away!” shouted the miser.

            “Not even one piece of silver?” the moon asked.

            “Not even a copper penny!” said the miser and slammed the door.

            The next morning, bright and early, the sun banged on the door. With his red hair and cheerful smile, he reminded most people of happy summer days.

            Once again, the miser opened the door. “Another begger?”

            The sun smiled widely and tried to warm the miser’s heart. He held a bright yellow bowl in his tanned hands. “Would you care to donate to the Sunshine Fund?”

            “I would not,” said the miser. “I would care to go back to sleep!”

            “Wouldn’t you like to know what the Sunshine Fund does?” the sun asked.

            “I don’t care if it makes the sun shine in the sky,” said the miser. “Go away!”

            The star, moon and sun brought their complaint about the miser to the Supreme Council, a court of the highest order.

           “A star twinkling doesn’t move him,” said the star.

           “He denies the moon and the creatures that benefit from its light,” the moon argued.

“Not one drop of sunshine enters his cold heart,” the sun said.

The charges were serious. What to do with a man so stingy he wouldn’t give even a penny for the sun’s rays, silver moonlight, or the happy twinkle of a star?

“Turn him into a frog,” yelled one Councilor.

“An insult to frogs!” said another. “Frogs love sunshine, the moon and stars.”

“A mole?” suggested another.

“The blindest mole loves the warm sun on its back, especially in the spring.”

“A rock. A rock would suit.”

“Not! Rocks hold the sun’s warmth for lizards and nothing looks better in moonlight than a mountain.”

It seemed everything in nature appreciated the sun, moon and stars more than the miser.

The wisest Councilor spoke.  “If a rock loves the rays of the sun and the miser does not, if a deer appreciates the light of the moon and he does not, if a child wishes on a twinkling star and he cannot, isn’t the miser a most unhappy man?”

The Council considered. There was nothing in the world the miser could be turned into that was worse than what he already was, and so they left him a lonely miser for the rest of his days.

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Copyright 2017 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author.

Published March 12, 2017,  Journal Tribune Sunday, (Biddeford, ME). 

The Potter and the King

      The Potter and the King

                                     By Valerie L. Egar

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, a potter lived in a modest hut near the river. She used clay she found by the edge of the river to make bowls and jugs for oil and water. She decorated them with paintings of plants and animals. Everyone agreed that her pottery was beautiful, the finest in the kingdom.

            One spring day, as the potter sat painting pots and singing, a messenger on a white horse galloped up.  He handed the potter a letter, sealed with wax. She opened it and read, “You are commanded to appear before the Royal Court to make pottery decorated with paintings of the castle for Princess Sabra’s wedding.”

            “Hmm,” she thought. “An invitation would be much nicer, and what happened to the word ‘please’?” She looked at the messenger. “Tell His Majesty, thank you very much, but it’s time to plant my garden. Other potters will be pleased to make pottery for the princess, I’m sure.”

            The messenger’s eyes widened.  “The King commands you,” he said. “You aren’t allowed to say  ‘no’.”

           The potter resigned herself to going. She’d heard the King had beautiful gardens. She might see peacocks or fine horses. She gathered a supply of clay, paint and paintbrushes, fresh clothes, hitched her small donkey to a cart and followed the messenger to the castle.

  How beautiful the castle was from a distance! Set high on a hill overlooking the valley, its white marble gleamed in the sunlight. 

As the potter drove closer, she saw wide golden gates and beyond them, lush gardens thick with flowers. As the gates opened, the messenger turned to her,  “You can’t drive that rickety, old cart here! Go around back!” He galloped in, leaving her to find her own way.

            The potter’s trusty donkey labored up a dirt road that wound its way to the back of the castle. How different it looked from the front!  The windows were boarded, the yard full of rubbish and broken glass. A shack stood under a dead tree and a rough man pointed the potter towards it.  Damp and musty, thick with cobwebs, the shack was nothing like her happy cottage on the river.

            The potter woke the next morning and began working. Day after day she labored, and as each day passed, she grew more homesick. She longed for the song of the river that slipped past her door, for the whisper of the breeze through the forest, for the bright flowers that grew in her garden. She missed seeing blue birds in the

nearby field and dragonflies flying among the water lilies in her pond.  Everything around her was ugly and left her heart feeling heavy.

           After two months of steady work, she finished. Hundreds of plates, dozens of bowls and jugs of all sizes lined the shelves in the castle’s basement. Not once had the King come by to ask if the potter needed anything. Not once had the princess sent a sweet cake or a pot of hot tea to the potter as she worked.

The King and the Princess came to the basement to view the dishes. “They’re ugly!” the Princess screamed. Drab brown and grey, the paintings on each showed the back of the castle with its broken windows and rubbish filled yard.

            The King was furious. “I ordered paintings of the castle!” he yelled.

            “Yes,” said the potter, “and this is the castle I saw from where I stood.”

            The potter’s words pierced the King’s heart. He was ashamed. He paid the potter generously for her work, beautified the back of the castle, stopped using the word ‘command,’ and finally learned to say ‘please.’ Best of all, he threw open the front gates of the castle to all of his subjects, whether they were riding a fine horse or driving a donkey cart.

            The spoiled Princess thought her father had gone mad and moved with her Prince to another Kingdom.
             The honest potter returned to her modest cottage and joyfully made pots for the rest of her days, singing as she painted.

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Copyright 2017 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author.
Published March 5, 2015 in Journal Tribune Sunday (Biddeford, ME).

The Liar and the Bees

The Liar and the Bees

            By Valerie L. Egar

Once upon a time, a very long time ago, a kind farmer and his wife lived with their two children on a small farm near a winding river. Though they were not rich, they had a gentle brown cow for milk, a flock of red hens for eggs and a fertile field to grow wheat. They maintained a hive of bees at the back of the garden and the wife planted extra flowers for the bees around the cottage.  An apple tree provided sweet apples for pies and cider and shaded the family on hot summer days.

            The family was content. “Surely, we are very fortunate,” thought the farmer.  His wife listened to the bees in the apple blossoms and smiled, thankful for all they had. The children, a handsome boy and winsome girl, threw feed to the chickens and milked the cow, without a care in the world.

            Their neighbor, a cheerless man with a run down farm, envied the family’s happiness. “Oh, it’s easy to be content when you have a fat cow, chickens, a fine field and flowers blooming,” said the sour old man. “I’d like to see how well they’d do if they had nothing!”

           Not two weeks later, the old man travelled to the nearby village to buy a pig. Stopping by an inn for lunch, he noticed a man in workman’s clothes sitting quietly by the fire. The King often disguised himself and mingled with the people to hear what they thought of him.  The old man recognized the King and saw an opportunity to meddle with the family’s happiness. In a voice loud enough for the King to hear, the old man declared, “ I am so ashamed! I live next to people who curse our worthy King and call him names. They have a fine farm and should be grateful, but they are not.  Surely there is no place for people like that in this Kingdom.”

            The King took notice and not a week later, soldiers arrived at the farm with a proclamation banishing the family from the Kingdom. They stripped the apples from the tree and dug all the potatoes and carrots from the garden. They loaded bags of harvested wheat onto a cart. One soldier loaded the chickens into a cage and another led the cow away. They lifted the beehive from the back of the garden and tied it onto the cart.

            The family was left with nothing and they sat down and cried.  The wife packed the last loaf of bread and a rind of cheese into a basket. Holding hands, they began to walk to a new Kingdom, hoping they would find people kind enough to give them what food they could spare as they journeyed.

            Meanwhile, the bees in the hive grew agitated. If there is anything a bee cannot stand, it’s a lie. They left the hive one by one as the cart jiggled down the road.  They gathered in a swarm and flew to the old man’s house, waiting on a gnarled tree for him to come outside. 

When he did, a bee stung him on the nose.

            “Ow!” he yelled. Another stung his shoulder.  Then, his knee. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

            The Queen bee buzzed near his ear and the old man was surprised to find he could understand her buzzing. “Truth! Truth! Truth!”  Each time the Queen spoke, a bee stung him.  With the bees pursuing him, he jumped on his horse and galloped toward the castle.

            The King was furious when he learned the old man lied about the family. He ripped up his proclamation and ordered their property restored.  Soldiers found them camped near the river, sharing their last piece of bread, grateful that although they’d lost everything, they still had each other.

             The King banished the liar from the Kingdom and to make amends, he gave the family the old man’s disheveled farm. The farmer made the old farm beautiful by planting an orchard of apple trees and building more hives for his faithful, truth loving bees. 

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Copyright 2017 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission.

Published February 26, 2017 Journal Tribune Sunday (Biddeford, ME) online edition.

The Happy Tower

                                                           The Happy Tower

                                                                                        by Valerie L. Egar

                             Once upon a time, a very long time ago, a sweet and beautiful baby girl was born to a King and Queen.  They loved their little girl so much they wanted to protect her from every hurt and sorrow.  The King thought about all the things that might make his beloved daughter cry— scraped knees and bee stings, nasty words, arguments. 

          “I never want her to be sad,” said the King. “She will know nothing but happiness for all of her days and will never shed a tear.”

                  “Oh yes,” the Queen agreed.  “We will keep her safe from everything that might make her cry.”

                  The King and Queen designed a beautiful glass tower for the Princess next to the castle. 

Sunshine and moonlight shone through the glass and danced on the white marble floors. Scented flowers and fruit trees grew in the conservatory. The happy scent of cinnamon cookies constantly wafted through the air.

            The Princess enjoyed her tower home. She delighted in the beautiful flowers that bloomed in the indoor garden, but never saw one fade or fall from the stem. Every night as she slept, a team of gardeners exchanged fading plants for new, so the blossoms were always fresh. No one wanted her to cry if a blossom withered.

                   She had a rollicking red kitten named Angus that made her laugh, but as the kitten grew, it too was secretly replaced at night with an identical kitten. The King and Queen feared the Princess might be sad when the kitten grew up and stopped climbing the curtains.

                Though the tower was a happy place, the Princess was bored. Aside from playing with Angus, there wasn’t much to do.  She didn’t have a bicycle or skateboard because she might fall off, scrape her shins and cry. She had no books to read, because some of the best stories bring tears. She didn’t have any friends, because even a best friend sometimes makes you cry.

            The Princess looked at the valley and the silver river from her bedroom and wondered what it was like to be outside. She had never felt grass on her bare feet or a snowflake on the tip of her tongue. She never saw a parade or smelled salt air at the edge of the ocean. She never had someone to share a secret with. She felt sad.

                   One day the Queen came to the Princess’ bedroom and found her crying.  “Oh no!” She was ready to fire the entire staff. Someone had made the Princess cry!

                  “What’s the matter?” the Queen asked. “Who caused these tears?”

                 “You and Daddy,” said the Princess. “You keep me locked in here all the time! I want to go outside. I want friends. I want to climb trees and roll down hills.  I want to ride a horse—”

                  “There are so many sad things in the world,” the Queen said. “Things that will make you cry.”

                  “But I’m sad now,” said the Princess. “I think there are things that will make me happy, too.”

                  The King and Queen relented and unlocked the glass tower.  They laughed with the Princess as she ran in the grass and climbed to the top of a tall tree. She skinned her elbow roller skating and cried for three minutes. The King thought he might die hearing it, but as soon as her elbow was bandaged, she went skating again.

                  For the first time, the Princess saw the petals of the flowers fall and seed pods form. She watched her kitten Angus grow into a beautiful cat. He didn’t climb curtains anymore and became a handsome, calm companion.

                Best of all, the Princess had friends. Sometimes they laughed, sometimes they argued, sometimes one of them said something mean enough to make the Princess cry. But everyone knew how to say, “I’m sorry,” and the Princess was happier with her sometimes tears than she ever was living in her perfect glass tower.

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Copyright 2017 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied or reproduced without permission from the author. 

Published February 19, 2017, Journal Tribune Sunday (Biddeford, ME).