Have you ever seen a parrot in a panic? In this Astropup adventure, the Parrot Major is flapping and flustering when he learns that a team of Ninja Cat Commandos are plotting to kill him. He suspects the whole world is out to get him. He is not even sure if he can trust his friend, Astropup.

And don’t forget, you can now get three Katie Stories on Kindle.

Read by Richard Scott. Story by Bertie. Pictures by Nick Hayes.

Astropup and the Day of the Cat

Hello, This is Richard, and I’m here with our latest yarn from our dog who travels in space. But before I hand you over to the capable paws of Astropup, I’d just like to clarify a bit of linguistic difficulty. Some of you have been asking us what a “mog” is. You may not be able to find that word in the dictionary, but it is in fact, a “cat.” So I hope that helps. Now, let’s hear from Astropup.

I  have always been loyal to the humans, even though they have more than a few strange habits, not least, keeping cats. It beats me why they spend their money feeding those treacherous mogs with foul smelling fishy chunks. They even let those evil balls of fatuous fluff sit on their laps, and they try not to wince when pussy-kins digs her claws into their thighs.

The scientists who worked at the space centre were more than normally intelligent humans, and yet they too kept cats. Yes, there were shameless mogs who prowled around the corridors of Space Central looking like they owned the place.

But stroking earthly catlings is one thing, and dealing with extra-terrestrial felines is a fiendishly different kettle of fishy chunks.    I know that the humans have huge dishes on the tops of hills, like giant electronic ears,  that pick up the constant mewing of the Cat People in outer space.  Some especially clever boffins had cracked the Cat People’s codes. They understood the meaning of every meow. And one of the messages that the humans picked up held some particularly terrifying news – for my friend, the parrot.

It happened when I was on shore leave.  I was living at home in blissful comfort with my owner, Jennie.  I did not lack for biscuits, blankets or cuddles.  One morning, I was chewing on my favourite rubber bone, when I heard a tap-tapping at the French doors.  With a woof and a wag I trotted over to see if it was friend or foe.  I saw a  flustered pale green bird whom I did not recognise right away.   I should mention that my friend the parrot had an uncanny ability to change colour.  I don’t mean that he went from deep blue to bright orange, but he certainly had several shades of green. Today he was so pale that he was almost yellow.  I barked to him that the kitchen window was open and, after a little confusion, he fluttered in.  His little eyes darted from side to side.

“They’re out to get me,” he rasped.  

“No need to flap,” I said, trying to sound soothing. “Find a perch, settle down, peck a peanut,  and  explain exactly who is out to get you.”

“The cats,” he said looking wilder than ever.  “The humans..  Perhaps… even you.”

“Oh come now,” I woofed, “Why would I want to harm you?”

“It’s a conspiracy!” he squawked. “You’re man’s best friend.  You’re all in it together.  I know !”

“Well if you don’t trust me,” I said, “then, I can’t help you.”

“Hmm,” said the parrot, and at last he began to explain. He had a friend,  a budgerigar, who worked in the Intelligence Corps. This smart little fellow was a code cracker who specialised in cat meows.   His work was Top Secret, and he had  risked his job by telling the parrot major about a short meow message that he had decoded.  It read:

“Stupid humans don’t suspect a thing.”

The point was, the message came from somewhere inside the Space Centre. The Cat People had a secret agent working among the humans.  It got worse. The answer came back from outer space:

“Bravo.  Top target is pesky parrot.”

The budgie told his boss about this threat to the life of our friend.  And the boss told the important people at the space centre  that they must clear out all the cats immediately – and the Top People answered that  there was nothing that could be done without more proof. They couldn’t have one species throwing out another, just because some bird brain overheard a meow.

“So you see,” said the Parrot Major, “The humans don’t mind if an alien cat sinks his claws into me.   They’ve never cared for a smart bird.  My brilliant brain makes them feel less clever.  In fact, they want me dead.  They might even be working with the cats for all I know.”  

It was clear that all the parrot could do was to panic.  That left it  up to me to think on my four feet and come up with a clever plan.  Being smart is not part of my job description, but when needs must…

“So,” I said, “we have a traitor inside the space centre.  We know that he or she is one of the cats. That narrows the suspects down to about a 100 or so   fiendish  moggies.  All we have to do is find out which one is the betrayer.”

My feathered friend stopped flapping and put his head on one side: “Well dear dog,” he said, “that’s elementary then.”  Since I did not know what “elementary” meant, I did not reply, but I did notice that he was settling down into a brighter shade of green. His plumage was all in a mess.  He reminded me of someone or something. I knew it was important, but I could not quite catch that thought.  Like most of my best ideas, it escaped me,  like – like  a squirrel up a tree.  

And so I consulted the one creature whom I knew would always give me good advice.  My mum.  She lived with Jenny’s aunty in a far away country called England, but we sometime woofed to each other over Skype. As luck would have it, Jenny’s mum was talking to her sister that evening.  I jumped on her lap, and woofed at the computer screen.  I could see my mum sitting on the bed behind Aunty Catherine.  

“Hey mum,” I woofed, “how do you set a trap for a cat?”

“With another cat, of course,” woofed back my mum. “Cats call to each other in spring.”

Yes, of course, I thought to myself. The cats’ chorus.  Cats make that awful caterwauling and think it is music.  It drives everyone else insane, but it’s what brings cats together in the tender season.  Now, how could we find a cat we could trust to put out the call sign?”  That was a question I put to the parrot.

“A trustworthy cat!” he scoffed. “You’d be more likely to find a ballet-dancing rhinoceros.”

And so I went back to being stumped, which is my normal state.  I was still stumped the next morning, when I followed Jenny into the toy room, hoping that she would take me for a walk.  I watched her tidy up her cupboard, and low and behold, there was the thought that had escaped me.  It was a big fluffy glove puppet in the shape of a parrot. He had messy plumage and beady eyes.  In the dark, he could pass as our own parrot.  

The next day I set out on the trail of the traitor.  I began by speaking to the code-cracking budgie. We met outside the space centre in the middle of the park where nobody could overhear us.  

“I want to set up a cat trap,” I told him, “And I need your help.
“It’s normally cats who catch budgies,” peeped the little bird,” I knew from his sly smile that I could rely on him.

That night, he fluttered into the radio room and broadcast a message in cat-speak.  It was the most appalling din, like chalk on a blackboard, or the sound of a cat’s chorus.  In translation, this is what it said.  “Catch parrot alone. Car park, south east corner, 7.30, Wednesday night.”

He perched up all night and waited for reply from the Cat People’s space command ship.  It duly came at 6 in the morning.

“Confirm rendezvous. 2 Ninja cat commandos, car park, south east corner, 7.30 Wednesday night.”

The cat trap was set. On Wednesday evening, our friend the parrot was due to give a talk in the operations room on the subject of the “The threat posed by alien birds”.  He was considered an expert on the subject, following our trip to the Ship of Birds which you might have heard about in a previous episode.  There were flyers posted up on all the noticeboards advertising his talk.  In the tea room,  I saw a trio of cats studying one of the flyers particularly closely. There was a grey cat with a black patch over his eye, a dirty white feline who looked a bit like an overgrown rat, and a common tabby.  I wondered if one of them could be the traitor.  Or perhaps even, all three?

Whoever the traitor was, he wasn’t much good at time keeping.  The orange sun was setting over the car park, when two ninja cat commandos climbed over the wall.  I could see them from where I was hidden between two parked cars.  They carried guns and backpacks.   They were sure scary enough to make a bull dog shudder.  But there was no cat there to meet and greet them in the car park. They hopped around nervously, clearly wondering if their plan had hit a snag. Then I saw a slinky, pointed eared figured jump up onto the bonnet of a car. Instantly the ninja cats trained their guns on the new arrival.

“Don’t shoot!” mewed the figure. I could see him clearly now.  He was the dirty white rat-cat – the Traitor! “This way,” he hissed. “The parrot’s giving a talk in the ops room. I’ll show you the way up onto the roof, and you can drop down onto the window cill and get a clear shot at him.  And the scoundrels bounded off, sneaking between the cars, and heading for the side of the space centre where some builder’s scaffolding gave them an easy way up onto the roof.

Fortunately,  I was not the only one who was witness to this act of treachery. A border collie from the security service had been watching it all too, from a truck.  The cat traitor had given himself away.

We both ran as fast as we could to the entrance of the space centre, and toward the lifts.  As you probably know, there is never a free elevator when you are in a hurry, and so we had to take the stares.   We both barked as we ran down the corridor to the ops room, and people and animals had to scramble out of our way.

“Hey you dogs, look where you are going,” shouted a scientist type  as I ran through his legs.  I could hear the parrot’s voice now:

“Birds rank among the most intelligent life forms in the universe.  They have the capacity to out-think humans by a factor of five to one…”

As we came through the door I could see a cat commando crouching at the window sill.

“Get down everybody!” I barked … but most of those present were humans and could not understand me. Just then a laser shot through the window and knocked the parrot off his perch.   He lay on the ground, a heap of singed feathers, smoke coming out of his head. One of the humans grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall and covered him in foam.  The cat assassin sprang out of sight. Perhaps I was the only one who had spotted him.

But of course the burnt bird was not our friend.  He was only Jenny’s glove puppet.  The real parrot major was perched in the projector room, giving his lecture through a microphone.  The cats had missed their target.  By now alarms and sirens were going off, and security guards were running willy-nilly all over the place.   The fire brigade was on its way.  But all the chaos and confusion only gave cover to the ninja cat commandos.  They slipped away to their space ship, no doubt convinced that they had taken out their target.  It was a pity they had got away – but it was more important that we had the evidence we needed to convict the traitor.

Well thank you Astropup for another action-packed episode. And by the way, we have original illustrations by Nick Hayes for this story, so do drop by at Storynory.com and see them. Also, Bertie’s asked me to mention that we have three Katie stories bundled up on Kindle – the ebook’s called Katie the Witch Who Lost Her sells, and you can buy it from Amazon.

For now, from me, Richard Scott

Goode Bye !

Tyger Tyger by Zaff

In this activity you will form your own impression of the Tyger based on the poem by William Blake. You will then create an original piece of art work based on The Tyger.

William Blake was not just a poet but an artist too. He used a technique known as engraving to accompany his poetry, which is similar to an etching technique used on slate or parched paper.

The picture above is a young artist’s impression of the Tyger. The vivid colors depicts a “tyger” (Blake’s old fashioned spelling) that illuminates the jungle with an orange glow as it moves through the green leaves.

Poetry Activity:

Step 1: Before you begin your drawing, study the poem further to form your impressions of the Tyger.

Here is some poetry analysis to guide you:

The Tyger is a source of energy but also a thing to be feared. The creature is described in terms of its bodily creation:’ the furnace’ of its brain, ‘the fire of thine eyes’, and its ‘dread hand’ and ‘dread feet’, which present the image of a fearsome Tyger.

The poem describes the Tyger ‘Burning Bright in the forests of the Night’; the Tyger is therefore likened to the flames of fire with its orange fur and stripes. We imagine the Tyger lighting up the forest as it moves, creating a source of energy and an illuminating presence.

The stars which ‘throw down their spears’ are personified in the poem and convey giving energy to the Tyger as it moves through the forest. The Tyger is also compared to the Lamb, a completely opposite creature in creation. It is also opposite because it is usually symbolic of Jesus’s sacrifice. The poet asks ‘what immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry?’ which suggests that no living thing could equal the forceful creation of the Tyger.

Step 2:

What images from the poem jump out to you?
Two vivid image examples are:

1.The Tyger looking into the flame of fire
2.The Stars that throw down their spears.

Pick one line from the poem with a strong image and description of the Tyger in it and write it down.

Step 3:
Draw an outline sketch in pencil of the Tyger as it appears to you in your imagination from the description.

Step 4:
Choose a ‘style’ of artwork for your Tyger picture. Artists use many different techniques to create their work. Artwork can be classical like a water color by the famous 19th Century English painter John Turner, or more modern art piece like a 1970s Andy Warhol Pop Art.

Pick a style in which you will create your picture of the Tyger.

Step 5:
Pick a material to color your Tyger in. There are a wide variety of different art materials to choose from: Paints, water-color, oils, pastels or chalk, or marker pens or ink.

Above is a cartoon style picture of The Tyger using fine marker pens, which give a very different impression of the Tyger but still captures the spirit of Tyger in the poem.

Step 6:
Share your Tyger with a friend and see if they can spot which verse line of the poem it illustrates.

Don’t forget you can always send your pictures and or shares your ideas of the Tyger in William Blake’s poem on Storynory.com.

Bye Bye

N *

This is an extract from our fairytale, the Fairies of Merlin’s Craig. It’s set in Scotland. Listen to the extract and answer the questions.

Extract

There are certain places where the very earth itself is charged with that fiery, unpredictable energy, known as magic. One of those centres of enchantment, is in Lanarkshire, in Scotland. You have to tramp for miles and miles across a bleak, soggy moorland to reach it – but eventually you will see a mound of jagged rocks rising out of the peat bog. And that will be Merlin’s Craig.

The folk who live thereabouts say that over a thousand years, ago the famous wizard called Merlin lived and practiced his magic among those rocks. No doubt he made use in his spells of the black peat that was all around him. You see peat is like no other earth: for it burns, and gives warmth and life to the people who eke out a living on the moorlands.

A few hundred years ago, a poor but honest man, worked on a farm near Merlin’s Craig. One day his master sent him to the Craig to dig up slabs of peat and fetch them back for fuel. The man did as he was told. He had just begun to slice the ground with his shovel and lift up the peat when all at once the smallest wee woman that he had ever seen in his life appeared before him. She was certainly a dainty little creature – perhaps no more than two feet high. She was clad in a green grown and red stockings, and her long yellow hair tumbled down to her waist.

The man was dumbfounded. He stuck his spade in the ground and gaped at her. She wagged her finger at him and said angrily:

“What do you mortals think you are doing when you dig up our roof? How would you like it if I came along with a giant spade and took the lid off your house?”

She stamped her wee foot and demanded:

“You put that turf back at once, or you will rue the day that you ever lifted it”.

Now the poor man’s teeth began to chatter with fright, for he had heard stories of how when a mortal offends the fairy-folk, the fairies wreak a terrible revenge. He swiftly shovelled the peat back into its place, patted it down nicely, and returned to his master to tell him what had happened.

But the master jeered at him: “A fairy you say? Taking the roof off her house were you? Drinking whisky more like it… No go back at once and fetch me some peat or there will be no wages for you this very week.”

The poor man had little choice but to do as he was told – for he had to feed his wife and two wee bairns – those were his children.

And so he spent the next few days working hard, digging peat and fetching it back to the farm. And during this time no fairies appeared to him – not a single one.

A year went by and the man still had not caught sight of another fairy – and he began to think that his master might have been right – perhaps he had only seen the fairy in a dream.

Autumn went by, and then winter and spring, and once again it was summer. It was the very same day that he had lifted the peat the year before. The man had been working hard on the farm, and his master was pleased with him, and gave him a present of some milk to take home to his family. He set off on his journey home with a spring in his step, and was humming a happy tune. As it was such a nice evening, he went home the long way over the moor, by a path that led past Merlin’s Craig. When he reached the Craig, his legs felt strangely tired, and he sat down on the ground, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Comprehension

What is this story about?

Did the poor man have confidence in himself?

Did the farmworker have enough food for his family?

Vocabulary & Grammar

1. “but eventually you will see a mound of jagged rocks…”
   What does jagged mean?
   smooth (b) rough (c) bleak (d) spiky

“no doubt he made use in his spells of the black peat that was all around him…”

2. What is the other meaning of spell ?
   (a) spit (b) spout (c )write with correct letters (d)dreams
3. “he had to feed his wife and two wee bairns”
   What is another word for wee ?
   (a) big (b) shapely (c ) little (d) weak
4. The poor man had X choice but to do as he was told
   What is the missing word?
   good (b) little (c) much (d)very
5. He set X on his journey home with a spring in his step
   What is the missing word?
   to (b) from (c) back (d) off

Assignments

Do you think the man should have done what his master wanted or what the fairy told him to do?

What do you think about the master giving his man some milk when he was pleased with him? What can we infer from this?

Discuss situations when what you think is quite different from what other people think. Do you think it is right to laugh at other people when they don’t agree with you?

This is an extract from our story, Portia’s Puzzle which is based on a scene from Shakespeare’s play, The Merchant of Venice. Listen to the extract and answer the questions.

Extract

Word of Portia’s beauty had spread to every corner of the world, and men, young and old, tall and short, fat, thin, pale, tanned, handsome, ugly, charming, rude, pretty much men of every variety flocked to her town, fair Belmont, to meet her.

It was after a day of meeting and greeting that she finally managed to have some time alone with her maid, Nerissa.

“Did you really not take a shining to any of the young lads?” asked Nerissa.

“It’s not up to me, is it?,” replied Portia, “This has got to be the most random way of choosing a husband ever.”

“Portia! Do you really have such little faith in your father?” responded Nerissa, and then she said more softly, and slyly…”Supposing that young Bassanio turned up…. I know you thought he was a nice lad”

“Him ! Oh yes, well he was, I admit, rather nice…. for a man… but he’s not been here for at least two years.”

“Well you never know..” said the serving girl. “Anyway what did you think of today’s batch?”

“You’ll have to remind me of them – I saw so many!”

Nerissa drew out a scroll from her apron pocket. Unrolling it, she said,

“First there was the Neapolitan, what did you make of him?”

“Oh him!” sighed Portia, “All he did was talk about his horse and how wonderful it was,” To amuse her companion, she did an impression of him: “It runs so fast, it jumps so high, oh and his teeth!” and “oh his coat!” and “I must tell you about his neck…!”

“No, you’re right!” Nerissa cut in. Portia laughed.

“I think he was starting to look a bit like a horse!” Portia added.

“Well, then there was the Roman.” said Nerissa.

“Goodness he was a misery guts! He didn’t laugh at a single joke. And before you say anything, my jokes aren’t that bad!… Oh yes he said to me,
“What’s the point of beauty in the world when everything decays…? If he’s like that as a young man imagine what he’ll be like when he’s older.
I’d rather marry a skull – it’d have a better sense of humour!”

“Next was Monsieur Le Bon, The French lord.” said Nerissa, looking down the list of suitors.

“Monsieur Le Bon! I’d never met anyone like him before, or like “them” I should say!”

“Sorry?” inquired Nerissa.

“He was certainly more than one person. He kept becoming different personalities. One minute he was dancing on his own (to no music), the next he was fencing his own shadow: ‘Don’t you think for one moment you will get away you pesky little shadow. -But it is me, Monsieur Le Bon. Non! I am Monsieur Le bon. -This cannot be! Aha – I have surprised you! Oh non! Mais oui! Oh non!’ I think he is all the company he will ever need. If I did marry him, I’d be marrying twenty husbands!”

“So that’s Italy and France crossed off the list! What did you make of that nice young man from England?” asked Nerissa.

“Falconbridge? He was lovely to look at, but it was hopeless. He spoke no Latin, French or Italian and you know how ropey my English is. There’s little conversation to be had with a mime artist! And as for his outfit, he was dressed in such a strange way. Certainly a man of international style – he was wearing an Italian jacket, French trousers, and a German hat – it was peculiar!”

“Speaking of Germans, how did you like the Duke of Saxony?”

“I didn’t like him very much in the morning when he was sober, but it only got worse in the afternoon when he was drunk!”

“Oh well you needn’t worry, love. When they heard about the text, they all decided they weren’t up to it and will be leaving Belmont tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, a new day, and a new hoard of visitors will arrive!” , Portia sighed.

Comprehension
Why was Portia meeting all these men?
Discuss whether or not Portia’s decisions – choose 2 – were sound.
Where does the Neapolitan come from?

Vocabulary & Grammar

1. “Did you really not take a shining to any of the young lads?”
   What does take a shining to mean?
   (a)recognize (b) know (c) like (d) dislike
2. “I didn’t like him very much in the morning when he was sober…
   What is the other meaning of sober ?
   (a) silly (b) serious (c ) soporific (d) superior
3. “Anyway what did you think of today’s batch?”
   What is another word for batch ?
   patch (b) bitch (c ) botch (d)group
4. “He didn’t laugh X a single joke…”
   What is the missing word?
   on (b) with (c) to (d) at
5. “There’s little conversation to be had with a mime X !”
   What is the missing word?
   artist (b) hurry (c) so (d) careful

Assignments

Discuss whether parents are better placed to choose a husband or wife for their children, or if the children should choose. Give your reasons.

Are first impressions are important to you when you meet people? When are first impressions important and when are they less important?

Who influences you when you make a decision? Discuss who influences you for what, whether you would like to change this, and how you will achieve this.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-portias-puzzle/feed/ 0 http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-tick-tock-turkey-and-the-endless-pudding/ http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-tick-tock-turkey-and-the-endless-pudding/#comments Fri, 18 May 2012 12:42:09 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9550 Download Audio

This is an extract from our story, Tick Tock Turkey and the Endless Pudding. Tick Tock Turkey is a time-travelling bird who lives on a desert island with his friend, Future Dog. Listen to the extract and then answer the questions.

Extract

This story is named after a very special recipe created by an ingenious chef called Blobert. It’s a story from Egg Island, the home of that famous time travelling bird, Tick Tock Turkey. And it’s called The Endless Pudding.

It was a hot afternoon on Egg Island. Future Dog had decided that it was time that Tick Tock Turkey should try to get on better with another of the island’s inhabitants – Blobert. Tick Tock Turkey didn’t know Blobert very well, but he had made it clear that he had a very disapproving view of blobs. Future Dog had brought Blobert down to the beach so that his two best friends could have a chance to get to know each other.

If you want to know what Blobert looks like, imagine a blob: that’s Blobert. Blobs are not easy to see, and Tick Tock Turkey’s main problem with Blobert was all the effort it took to look at him. Before they could be better friends, Tick Tock Turkey would have to learn to look at blobs without going cross-eyed. Blobert, who is a rather talented cook, had prepared a surprise for Tick Tock Turkey, but he wasn’t allowed to have it until he had tried to be friendly. Tick Tock Turkey had been trying to look at Blobert for nearly an hour, without much success.

‘Blobert,’ said Tick Tock Turkey, throwing his wings up in frustration, ‘why do you have to be so weird! Stand still! There you are. No, gone again. It’s giving me a headache.’

‘Sorry,’ said Blobert. ‘I know you’re trying. But I’m not weird, really. In fact I’m quite normal. As blobs go, I’m a very ordinary blob.’

‘Where’s he gone now? Blobert? I can hear you, but you’ve disappeared again.’

Future Dog, who had mastered the art of seeing Blobert, nodded sympathetically: ‘There is a knack to it,’ she said. ‘I’ve spent more time with Blobert than you, Tick Tock Turkey, and with practice I’ve managed to get the hang of it. But it wasn’t easy – I had to make a real effort.’

‘Why bother?’ said Tick Tock Turkey. ‘I’m sorry Blobert, but if you were meant to be seen then it wouldn’t be such hard work, would it? You don’t see anyone struggling to see me, now do you? Everyone always knows where I am.’

‘Yes, they really do,’ sighed Future Dog.

‘I’ve tried to see you Blobert, but it makes my eyes go funny. Can I have my surprise now?’

‘Not yet,’ said Future Dog.

‘I get this a lot, being a blob,’ said Blobert. ‘The secret is not to try too hard. Don’t squint – relax your eyes. The thing is, I tend to be just slightly to the left of where I am.’

Tick Tock Turkey scrunched up his face: ‘Slightly to the left of where you are? That’s stupid!’

‘Yes,’ said Blobert, ‘it sounds silly, but that’s the way it is. I’m always slightly to the left of where I am. It can make me seem fuzzy. It’s a nightmare for photographs. People try their best, but they always end up with a picture of a tree or an empty beach. When you look very closely, there’s a blurry part at the edge of the picture. That’s me. I’ve been lopped off the side. It’s very annoying. Actually, I’ve never seen myself, so even I’m not sure what I look like.’

Tick Tock Turkey flapped his wings again: ‘If you want to know what you look like, then do what everybody else does – use a mirror, you silly blob!’

Comprehension

Why did Tick Tock Turkey find it so difficult to get on with Blobert?

Did Tick Tock Turkey make any progress in getting on better with Blobert?

Was Future Dog selfish or sensible in wanting Tick Tock Turkey and Blobert to get on better with each other?

Vocabulary

1. “‘why do you have to be so weird! Stand still!”
   What does weird mean?
   (a) ordinary (b) different (c) odd (d)wonderful
2. “I’ve managed to get the hang of it.”
   What is the other meaning of hang ?
   (a) hinge (b) henge (c ) hump (d)uspend
3. “Slightly to the left of where you are?”
   What is another word for slightly ?
   (a) more (b) a bit (c ) definitely (d)less
4. “When you look very closely, there’s a blurry part X the edge of the picture.”
   What is the missing word?
   (a) at (b) in (c) from (d) where
5. “I’ve tried to see you Blobert, but it makes my eyes X funny”
   What is the missing word?
   (a) red (b) looks (c) go (d) lids

Assignments

Future Dog wanted Tick Tock Turkey and Blobert to get on better. How far do you think other people should intervene in relationships? When is this justified?

Tick Tock Turkey found it hard to Blobert who was very different. Discuss a situation like this that you have come across. Can you think of anything that would have helped?

Future Dog had learnt with practice to see Blobert but Tick Tock Turkey found it difficult. (Discuss the role of aptitude in learning new skills.) Do you think people are better at things because they practise more or because they have more aptitude for them? Give examples from music, sport and school work.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-tick-tock-turkey-and-the-endless-pudding/feed/ 0 http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-the-princess-who-had-a-heart/ http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-the-princess-who-had-a-heart/#comments Fri, 18 May 2012 12:41:21 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9554 Download Audio

This is an extract from our story, The Princess Who Had a Heart. It is one of a series of stories about the mysterious Princess Talia who is at Oxford University. Her best friend Sally in the room next to hers. Listen to the extract and answer the questions.

Extract

It was Saturday night. Sally sat in her room trying to decipher a sentence of Ancient Greek written by the historian Thucydides. It went on and on and on, clause after clause, for an entire page. Just this one sentence was ten times worse than the most horrible homework assignment she had ever had to to do at school.

“This is mental torture,” protested Sally to herself, “It’s against my human rights. Only a sadist could write a sentence like that. ”

Music added to her torment. She could hear it playing from at least three different rooms around the quad. Saturday night parties going on. Parties to which she was not invited.

At 9 pm she heard a knock on the door. But it was her neighbour’s door. There were exclamations of “Princess! “ and “You look simply sumptuous darling!” Talia’s new friends had come to collect her for an evening of socialising. Sally thought:

“Not long ago I felt sorry for her because she didn’t have any friends. Now it’s me who is Miss Lonely-locks.”

Sally went to bed, and she dozed fitfully. She heard Princess Talia slip back into her room at some unearthly hour like five in the morning. But even then her neighbour did not sleep. She sat at her harp playing music. The gentle, almost magical notes helped Sally to finally drift off.

In the past, Sally and Talia had enjoyed meeting for cups of tea. Or to be more precise, Sally drank tea from a mug while Talia sipped water. But it had been at least three weeks since they had exchanged more than a passing “hello” – and three weeks was almost half the time they had known each other. Talia was the strangest person that Sally had ever met, and yet for some reason she felt that she had known her all her life and now there was a hole in her life. She missed her odd remarks and strange views. But she thought it was perhaps for the best. After all, Princess Talia was entirely wrapped up in her own selfish concerns, and had little thought for others. It was hardly a solid basis for a friendship.

It was a piece of misfortune that drew them back together. Their tutor, PJ Partridge, called a meeting of all six classics undergraduates. While he was discussing their reading list, Sally’s phone rang. She blushed bright red and fumbled to turn it off. Their tutor, who did not even own a mobile phone, gave her his sternest glance of disapproval. After the meeting, Sally stood in the quad listening to her message. When she had played it, Talia came up to her and said:

“Sally, you look so upset. Have you received bad news?” Sally was surprised that the princess had even noticed her, let alone seen how she was feeling. And yes, it was true. She had received bad news. Her mother had rung to say that her father had been rushed to hospital in an ambulance. In fact Sally was in a state of shock. it was the first time it had occurred to her that her dad might not live forever.

Talia said: “Sally, my car is at your disposal. The driver will take you to the hospital where your father is. “

“But he’s miles away, in Liverpool.” replied Sally.

“Never mind. Take it for as long as you need. I will inform Dr. Patridge what has happened. “ And while she was speaking, she removed a silver chain from around her neck. Its setting clasped a blue-green stone. Talia told Sally that her father must wear the necklace. The stone would change colour to blood red because he was ill. As his condition improved, it would turn first to pink, then gradually back to its former colour. “And what’s more, it will protect him from harm and speed his recovery,” added Talia. “Trust me Sally. No harm can come to the one who wears this stone. It was given to me by my godmother on the day of my christening, and has protected me from great evil. “

Sally was in such a state that she did not question her friend about the stone. She hugged her with thanks, and ran up to her room to pack her bag. Quarter of an hour later she sank into the leather back seat of Talia’s black limousine.

Comprehension

Why did Sally find it hard to concentrate when she was doing her homework?

Why was Sally upset?

Why did Talia offer Sally her car?

Vocabulary

1. “You look simply sumptuous darling!”
   What does sumptuous mean?
   (a) magnificent (b) significant (c) serious (d)sudorific
2. “Its setting clasped a blue-green stone. “
   What is the other meaning of setting ?
   (a) leaving (b) smiling (c ) turning solid (d) sweeping
3. “As his condition improved, it would turn first to pink, then gradually back to its former colour.”
   What is another word for former ?
   (a) later (b) previous (c ) contemporary (d)other
4. “Talia was the strangest person that Sally had X met”
   What is the missing word?
   (a)ever (b) never (c) come (d) become
5. “It was a piece of misfortune X drew them back together.”
   What is the missing word?
   (a) that (b) than (c) could (d) did

Assignments

This story is called The Princess who had a Heart. But in the story it says that Princess Talia is entirely wrapped up in her own concerns. Discuss whether or not Princess Talia is considerate, giving examples from the story.

Do you think Sally and Talia were friends or not? Discuss what you think drew them together.

The stone which Talia gave Sally for her father was a magic stone and required trust. Discuss the role of belief and expectations in health care and recovery.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-the-princess-who-had-a-heart/feed/ 0 http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-astropup-and-the-keys-to-the-universe/ http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-astropup-and-the-keys-to-the-universe/#comments Fri, 18 May 2012 11:25:52 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9535 Download Audio

I found it hard to contain a growl when we came face to face with the hideous cat people. Quite frankly I was most furious with myself, for if I had stayed true to my instincts, and loyal to the humans, I would not now be dealing with the most treacherous species in the universe – a horrific form of cat. This was what came of putting my trust in a parrot with a grudge the size of infinity.

They had what some deluded humans might consider to be pretty kitty-cat features. Neat purse-like lips, pink little noses, and pointy velvety ears. Their eyes were sly little slits that shone in the dark. It makes my stomach turn to think of them. Compared to an earth cat they were huge – but by the standards of cat people, they were on the small side. They were the most dreaded and dangerous sort of feline. They were Siamese cat commandos, from an elite regiment that prowled deep behind enemy lines leaving chaos, mayhem and confusion in their wake.

“Grrrrrrrrrrr” I said. I couldn’t help myself. And both the cat people raised the laser guns that were strapped across their chest.

“Steady on,” squawked the parrot, “We’re meeting in a spirit of inter-galactic-cross-species trust and cooperation.”

“Well I’m watching their every move,” I said.

“Likewise,” hissed the nastiest looking of the cat commandos.

The parrot turned to me and said in a haughty voice: “Your job is to shut up and dig.” And so turning my hind-quarters on the cat people I started to dig, and in doing so, kicked earth in their faces. I could hear them hissing, sneezing and spitting out dirt. That made my work rather more pleasant.

Finally I found the key and held it firmly between my front teeth. There was no way that I was letting it go before they produced the box. One of the cat people placed it on the ground and stood back covering it with a laser gun.

“Put the guns on the ground over by that tree,” said the Parrot, “Or the deal’s off.” And after some mewing and complaining the pair did as he said.

The Parrot took they key from me and turned it with his beak in the lock of Pandora’s Box. The lid sprung open. One of the cat people pounced and tried to grab the box, but I met him with barred teeth and he backed off.

“Okay everyone, calm down,” said the Parrot. “It appears that there is a scroll inside this box and on it are written the 3 secrets of the universe. They are in Ancient Greek of course, but fortunately I have made a study of the language. Those of you who are interested should stay still and listen while I translate.”

And this is what he read:

“I, Bonzotes, the greatest of the dog philosophers, hereby summarise for all posterity the secrets of the universe which I have discovered through a lifetime of contemplation on . ”

1) The Theory of Relativity
Time passes seven times faster for dogs than for human beings. Therefore one year of a dog’s life is equal to seven of a person’s. In that time a dog enjoys life seven times more forcefully than a person. The smell of horse manure or a dead rabbit is seven times as enjoyable for a dog as for a human..

2)The Big Bone Theory
The universe starts with a whimper and ends with a woof. It expands and contracts like the chest of a panting dog. It will expand and contract nine times in all. On each contraction, cats will lose one of their nine lives and become less of a menace to other creatures.

3)The Survival of the stupidest.
Superior intelligence will be the downfall of birds, bees, cats, humans and other smarty-pants know-it-all animals. Brains will tempt them to tamper with life itself, and will lead to their own destruction. The dumber animals who concentrate on food, water, sleep and running around the park will prevail. I therefore urge dogs to act as if they were stupid. Stupidity is the most intelligent course to take.

I could see from their spiky fur and arched backs that the cat people did not appreciate these secrets.

“You’re making it up,” hissed one.

Comprehension

What are cat people?

Did the speaker like the cat people? How do you know?

Do you think the cat people were happy with the secret scroll from Pandora’s box?

Vocabulary & Grammar

1. “I, Bonzotes, the greatest of the dog philosophers, hereby summarise for all posterity….”
   What does posterity mean?
   (a) posterior (b) postal service (c)future generations (d)posture
2. “The Big Bone Theory”
   What is the other meaning of bone ?
   (a) bean (b) bane (c ) learn thoroughly (d) bang
3. “The dumber animals who concentrate on food, water, sleep and running around the park will prevail.”
   What is another word for prevail ?
   (a) prevaricate (b) win (c ) preview (d) previous
4. “Compared X an earth cat they were huge – but by the standards of cat people, they were on the small side.”
   What is the missing word?
   (a)for (b) by (c) from (d) to
5. “Quite frankly I was most furious with myself, for if I X stayed true to my instincts, and loyal to the humans, I would not now be dealing with the most treacherous species in the universe”
   What is the missing word?
   (a)did (b) should (c) had (d) could

Assignments

If life exists on other worlds, what assumptions should we make? If we should not make assumptions, how should we deal with it?

Bonzotes wrote about the secrets of the Universe from a dog’s perspective. Are perspectives important in understanding science? How have our own perspectives influenced our understanding of science?

How important do you think appearance is in determining our reactions?

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-astropup-and-the-keys-to-the-universe/feed/ 0 http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-the-golden-arrow/ http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-the-golden-arrow/#comments Fri, 18 May 2012 09:59:41 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9440 This is an extract from our story “The Golden Arrow about the famous outlaw, Robin Hood. In the story, Robin Hood’s greatest enemy, the Sheriff of Nottingham, comes up with a plan to capture him. Listen to the extract and then answer the questions.

Extract

I’ve told you before how Robin Hood once tricked the Sheriff of Nottingham into coming to dinner with him in Greenwood. At the end of the Dinner Robin forced the Sheriff to swear an oath never to harm Robin or his men. In this story, we shall hear if the Sheriff was true to his word.

The Sheriff of Nottingham did not forget how Robin Hood had invited him to dinner under the trees of Greenwood.

Some time after that memorable dinner, the Sheriff was drinking ale with his friend the Abbot.

“Let no one say that I am an ill-mannered man, he mused. “One favour deserves another. It is time for me to return an invitation to Robin Hood and pay his hospitality back in kind.”
The Abbot shook his head:

“The outlaw has not remained at large for so long by being a simpleton. I do not think that he will walk so easily into your hospitable trap.”

The Sheriff smiled over the top of his tankard of frothy brown ale and the Abbot realised by the self-satisfied curl of his friend’s upper lip that the sheriff was confident of his plan.

“My dear Abbot,” said the Sheriff. “You are right to say that we are facing no straight-forward villain. I do not have in mind a polite note addressed to Robin Hood in his robber’s lair in Greenwood. I have a more subtle plan. But he shall prove unable to resist my invitation to the gallows – all the more because I shall send it indirectly.”

The Sheriff’s plan came quite naturally to him. Like most men, he loved to watch a good sporting contest. And in those days the most popular sport in England was archery. Everyone knew that the title for the finest archer in all the North of England belonged by right to Robin Hood. The Sheriff decided to give the outlaw a chance to claim his title. He ordered that on a certain day an archery contest would be held on the field outside the city walls. The trophy was to be a arrow, the like of which had not been seen in England. Its shaft was made of white gold, and it was tipped and feathered with yellow gold.

When Robin heard news of the contest, he thought what a fine thing it would be to claim the prize from the hand of the Sheriff himself. The very idea made him chuckle, for all the people of Nottingham would see how their chief law keeper was powerless to arrest the county’s most notorious outlaw.

Robin blew his horn to call his followers to meet around the oldest Yew Tree in Greenwood. He spoke to his faithful outlaws like this:

“Men. In a week’s time we shall go to Nottingham and take part in the Sheriff’s own shooting match, for I crave to bring the golden arrow back to Greenwood.”

The outlaws were far from overjoyed to hear this plan, for in their hearts, they thought it was perhaps a little too bold.

“Have no fear,” said Robin, “For the Sheriff stood under this very Yew Tree and swore an oath by St. Mary that he would never do us any harm.”

To this, Little John added: “Aye that he did, and in a week’s time we shall discover if the Sheriff is a man of his word.”

On the day of the contest Robin and over 100 of his men gathered on the field of the contest. Robin ordered that just he and the five best shots in his band would take part in the match. The others were to crowd round them, so that Robin would not be recognised until he stepped forward to aim at the target. For more disguise, he wore a hood over his head.

Little John, Much the Miller’s Son, and Will Scarlet each stepped forward in turn to aim their long bows. Their aims were good and true. Then it was the turn of Robin. The Sheriff was watching from his chair, and he recognised the villain right away, not from his face which he could not see, but from the way he walked. He said to himself:

“Soon Robin Hood will take his prize, and I shall have mine.”

Posts driven into a mound of earth served as the targets, and Robin split the furthest post with his arrow. Nobody else could strike true from such a great distance.

At the end of the contest, Robin approached the sheriff to claim his prize. He accepted the golden arrow and held it above his head. The word had got round that the victor was none other than the most notorious outlaw in the North of England. Some people in the crowd cheered, others jeered, and still more kept quiet, for they did not dare to show their support or opposition for the Sheriff’s deadliest enemy.

While Robin was still holding up the prize, a horn sounded and the sheriff’s men began to rush at Robin. The outlaws of Greenwood were ready for treachery such as this, and held their long bows bent and ready to fire. They shot their arrows into the sheriff’s men, and many of them fell dead. Then arrows began to fly in both directions and most of the crowd – those who did not care to join in the fight on either side – ran for the city gates.

A great many arrows were let loose, a great many tunics were split, and a great many men received wounds. An arrow struck Little John in the knee, and he was unable to stay standing.
“Robin,” he called out. “If I have served you well and true, do not let me fall into the hands of the sheriff while I am still breathing. Take my broad sword and strike me on the head. Cut me deep and wide until no life is left in me.”

But Robin replied: “I would not let you be slain for all the gold in England, even though it were laid out before me.”

And Much the Miller’s son added” “God forbid that we shall be parted”. And he took Little John up on his back, and walked with him a mile, although he put him down every now and then to loose some arrows from his bow. All Robin Hood’s men were retreating now. They fought their way to the Castle of the good knight whom Robin had helped when he was down on his luck. It was a strong building, with a double moat and high walls. Once the whole band of outlaws were inside, the Knight ordered his guards to rise the drawbridge and shut all the gates.

The Sheriff’s men surrounded the Castle, but they were not strong enough to break their way in, and the Knight welcomed his old friend.

“Dear Robin. Of all the men in the world, I love you most. You shall stay safe in my castle and let the Sheriff lay siege to us if he wishes. We have enough food and drink not just to survive for 40 days, but to feast upon.”

After a while the Sheriff himself came up the gate carrying the white flag of truce, for he wished to negotiate. The knight stood on the walls to hear what he had to say:

“Good Knight,:” he called out, “Do you wish to be a traitor to your king? For you are keeping his enemy safe against the law.”

And the Knight replied:

“I swear by all my lands that I am indeed keeping Robin Hood safe and I will never betray him for he is my truest friend.”

When the Sheriff heard this, he called out that he would depart for London to speak with the King himself. And in this case, he kept his word for straight to London he went. When he reached court, he was granted an audience with King Richard, just returned for the wars in the Holy Lands. The King heard the story of how the notorious outlaws were being protected by one of his own knights and he said to the Sheriff:

“Go home proud Sheriff and gather the best archers you can find. I shall be in Nottingham within two weeks, and then I shall take this errant knight for he is a traitor to both his King and to the law of the land. And as for Robin Hood – never have I heard of such a popular criminal. And I am curious to know how one man can break so many laws in a single lifetime. It is my royal intention to look this extraordinary outlaw in the eye before he meets his just deserts.”

And that’s the story of Robin Hood and the Golden Arrow – and Bertie says that one day soon we shall hear about how Robin Hood met King Richard The Lion Heart.

Comprehension

1. Do you think the Sheriff really wanted to be hospitable to Robin Hood?
2. Why did Robin Hood want to enter the competition? Did the outlaws want to go with Robin Hood to the competition?
3. Was Robin Hood a good friend to Little John?
4. Who in this story showed that he was a good friend to Robin Hood?
5. Who do you think had a better understanding of Robin Hood: the Abbot or the Sheriff? Give your reasons.

Vocabulary & Grammar

1. “The Sheriff smiled over the top of his tankard of frothy brown ale….”
   What does frothy mean?
   (a)creamy (b) tasty (c ) bubbly (d) light
2. “The word had got round that the victor was none other than the most notorious outlaw in the North of England.”
3. What does notorious mean?
   (a) celebrated (b) famous (c) infamous (d) notable
4. “A great many arrows were let loose….”
   What is the other meaning of loose?
   (a) lost (b) hopeless (c ) wobbly (d) lassoo
5. I do not have in mind a polite note addressed to Robin Hood in his robber’s lair in Greenwood.”
   What is another word for robber?
   (a) soldier (b) outlaw (c )burglar (d)personal
6. “Then arrows began to fly in both directions and most X the crowd – those who did not care to join in the fight on either side – ran for the city gates.”
   What is the missing word?
   (a) where (b) people (c) of (d) fearfully
7. “I —– be in Nottingham within two weeks…”
   What is the missing word?
   (a) did (b) weren’t (c)aren’t (d) should

Assignments

Do you think it was right of the Sheriff to try to trick Robin Hood into placing himself at risk?

The tales of Robin Hood have survived for centuries: why do you think they are so popular?

Who is the “bad guy” and who is the “good guy” in this story? Give your reasons for your answer.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/18/questions-for-the-golden-arrow/feed/ 0 http://storynory.com/2012/05/16/marvin-the-mole-and-the-queens-jubilee/ http://storynory.com/2012/05/16/marvin-the-mole-and-the-queens-jubilee/#comments Wed, 16 May 2012 11:54:50 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9507 Download Audio



We are celebrating a very special person who has been in her job for 60 years. That person is, of course, Her Majesty the Queen. Here in the UK, there is an extended Bank Holiday around June 4th, 2012, to mark the occasion. Lots of people will be having street parties.

Gerald Watts has written a charming poem that we are presenting as our tribute to Her Majesty.

Marvin the Mole likes to explore, and he pops up out of the ground all over the place. Unfortunately he is not usually a welcomed warmly by the people who see him. How will the Queen react when he unexpectedly visits her garden party?

If you like this poem as much as we do, you can buy the book, with loads of lovely illustrations, from our friends at Wicked Uncle.

Read with due reverence by Elizabeth. Poem by Gerald Watts.


MARVIN THE MOLE AND THE QUEEN’S JUBILEE

This is the story of Marvin the Mole
Who would not do as he was told
And caused a scene of devastation
At a royal celebration.

Marvin was a handsome mole,
His velvet coat as black as coal,
His nose a cherry-blossom pink,
His eyes, although inclined to blink,
Were bright as beads. As for his paws,
Used for tunnelling of course,
All four were short and curved and strong,
Ideal for moving earth along,
Or for pushing stones aside
So he could burrow down and hide.

But Marvin, though small and almost blind,
Was not the shy, retiring kind.
He was determined to have fun,
To see the sky, to feel the sun
On his back and the wind in his face.
He would not believe the only place
That moles were safe was underground
Away from where the slightest sound
Brought long-nosed dogs with digging paws,
Birds with beaks and cats with claws.

His Mum and Dad, time and again,
Took the trouble to explain.
‘Down here it may be cramped and rough
But on the surface life is tough,
Especially for moles. Believe us, son,
We’re not against you having fun
But you are too curious and bold,
So you must do as you are told.’

For quite a while Marvin was good,
Playing only where a young mole should,
But one day, tunnelling along
With no thought of doing wrong,
He heard the most delightful noise,
The shouts and cheers of girls and boys.
He asked himself ‘What can it be?
I’ll just go take a look and see.’
So up he went, broke through the turf,
Emerging in a shower of earth.

It was school sports day afternoon,
The fifty metre egg and spoon,
The children racing for the line
When up popped Marvin in lane nine.
Oh, what a sight! What a surprise!
The rushing feet, the staring eyes!
Marvin panicked, dived for cover.
Two children crashed into each other.
Another tried to dodge and slipped
As one by one the runners tripped,
Got tangled up in arms and legs,
Discarded spoons and scrambled eggs.
The teacher glared into the hole.
‘One day I’m going to get that mole!’

All next week Marvin stayed home,
Minding no business but his own,
Until on Saturday afternoon
He heard a most uplifting tune.
An organ played, hymns were sung
And all the steeple bells were rung.
Corks were popping, people laughing.
‘That sounds fantastic,’ said young Marvin,
‘I’ve never heard such joyful laughter,
Such cries of ‘Happy Ever After’.
I won’t cause trouble like last week.
I’ll just go up and take a peek.’

The handsome groom and blushing bride
Stood arm in arm. On either side
Stretched row on row of their relations
Gathered for the celebrations,
Dressed up in fancy frocks and hats,
Silk scarves, lace gloves and smart cravats.
The photographer had just said ‘Please
Everyone, keep still. Big smiles. Say cheese.’
When all of a sudden Marvin appeared,
As scruffy as a pirate’s beard,
Sending grass and bits of dirt
Spattering their well-ironed shirts.
The ladies shrieked to see the messes
Made upon their lovely dresses.
The photographer stamped upon the hole.
‘One day I’m going to get that mole!’

A fortnight passed. Marvin felt sad.
Perhaps being adventurous was bad.
But, young and full of life, he soon grew bored.
‘It’s time,’ he said, ‘that I explored
Over the hill.’ So off he went,
Digging to his heart’s content
Until, at last, all tired and hot,
He found the perfect picnic spot.
‘Here is nice. The ground is soft
And no strange noises from above.
Surely nothing can go wrong?
I’ll just look round. I won’t be long.’

A silent crowd surveyed the scene:
A golfer on the eighteenth green.
This putt to win the Player’s Cup.
This putt to lift the trophy up.
The golfer eyed the line, stood tall,
Breathed deep and gently tapped the ball.
It set off straight towards the hole
When suddenly a pink-nosed mole
Emerged from deep beneath the ground
And sent the ball the wrong way round.
The golfer knelt and thumped the hole.
‘One day I’m going to get that mole.’

This time Marvin had learnt his lesson.
He asked his Mum and Dad’s permission
And only went to quiet places:
No stamping feet, no angry faces.
But all that changed a few weeks later
When our restless little excavator
Dug beneath a flower bed
To breathe the scent and rest his head.
He made a den and settled in.
He gave his fingernails a trim.
He ate his lunch and took a nap,
Snoozing in peace, not knowing that
He slept beneath a big marquee
Where the Queen was due for tea.

The tinkle of spoons, the chink of cups,
The chatter of guests woke Marvin up.
The Prime Minister took the microphone,
Announcing in a solemn tone:
‘We salute Her Royal Majesty
On this her Diamond Jubilee.’
Marvin heard. His heart beat faster.
This might mean triumph or disaster.
Surely he could see the Queen
And sneak away without being seen?
Slowly, feeling very nervous,
Marvin came up to the surface.

A waiter with a tray of cakes
Who normally made no mistakes
Stumbled as the ground gave way.
Unfortunately this sent the tray
Spinning wildly through the air.
The cakes and buns flew everywhere.
The guests looked round, alarmed, surprised
To see a pair of blinking eyes.
The golfer was the first to speak,
Wiping icing from his cheek,
‘The mole! It’s time for my revenge.’
‘Oh, let me help you, my good friend,’
Said the photographer with glee.
The teacher shouted, ‘Yes, and me!’

One jumped, one leapt, the other pounced.
‘You dare to come here unannounced.
Making trouble. Messing up the tent.
It’s time you got your punishment.’
With that they grabbed the little mole
And shoved him in a serving bowl.

Marvin was scared. He was afraid.
O, how he wished that he had stayed
At home near to his Mum and Dad.
He felt alone. He felt so sad.
Big tears rolled down his little cheeks
Leaving damp and muddy streaks.
The Queen stepped forward gracefully.
‘What’s all the fuss? Now, let me see.’
She lifted up the serving bowl.
She saw the wretched, guilty mole.
‘In all my reign of sixty years
I’ve never seen such heartfelt tears.
Though living cautiously is fine,
Being curious is no crime.
Despite the damage to my garden,
I grant this mole a royal pardon.’

A Royal Footman dressed in black
Wiped him down and took him back,
Back to his worried Mum and Dad
Who hugged and kissed their little lad.
Marvin hugged them tight and said
Perhaps he’d like to go to bed,
And promised he’d take extra care
When playing in the open air.

Copyright Gerald Watts 2011.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/16/marvin-the-mole-and-the-queens-jubilee/feed/ 29 http://storynory.com/2012/05/08/katie-and-the-giants/ http://storynory.com/2012/05/08/katie-and-the-giants/#comments Tue, 08 May 2012 14:33:07 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9413 Download Audio



The giants in this story don’t actually come romping into the playground and squash anybody. It isn’t that sort of story. Katie’s mum, who knows lots of wonderful stories, tells her about The Giants and the Gods to explain something important about life.

Which side are you on – the Giants or the Gods? When you’ve listened to the story, you can leave a comment and let us know.



And if you have a Kindle, you might like to read our ebook of three Katie stories on it. If you do get the book, please leave a nice review on Amazon as that will really help us.

Read by Natasha. Pictures by CaiJia. Story by Bertie.




Katie and the Giants

Hello, this is Natasha and this is our latest story about Katie the witch. I ought to mention that there aren’t actually any giants in this story, so I hope you aren’t too disappointed about that. After all, Katie is an ordinary school girl, and it would be quite surprising if giants suddenly appeared in the playground. But giants are important to the story. – as you will hear.

There was a new girl at school. Her name was Jazz and you might have thought that she would be quite shy until she had time to settle in. Katie thought, “Poor Jazz, starting a school is such a big thing. She must be quite scared really.” After the first lesson, she went up to her and said: “Hi, My name’s Katie. Don’t worry, we’re all pretty friendly here. Well most of us are…”

Jazz frowned and stared past Katie’s face in a strange way. She said:

“Couldn’t you find your hairbrush this morning?” Samantha laughed at this remark, and made action like a monster: “Katie’s hair is always WILD,” she exclaimed. And then she added with a toss of thumb: “She’s the weird one.”

Jazz said: “Yes, I see that. Every class has one of those.”

Katie felt so hurt it was like Jazz had hit her. She decided to avoid her. But at lunchtime, lots of other people wanted to chat to the new girl, and she was instantly popular. Her mum was a presenter on one of those TV shows about buying a house that was a bit of a tip, and then doing it up to be a dream home. Everyone thought that was super-cool. Even Katie’s best friend Isis was impressed.

So all in all, it was quite surprising when Jazz came up to Katie the next day. Katie innocently thought that perhaps she wanted to apologise or say something kind to make up for the bad start. But she was wrong. Jazz said coolly:

“People say you’re a witch.”

“People say lots of things, said Katie, walking a little faster down the corridor towards the art class.

“I was in your mum’s magic crystal shop yesterday,” she went on. “What are those things supposed to do?”

“Magic things can make your house have good energy,” said Katie. “They can give you positive vibes.”

“Well that doesn’t do anything for me,” said Jazz. “My motto is, If you can’t see it, eat it, or spend it, then it’s no good to anyone. In fact, I don’t believe in magic. What you can’t touch, doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah, Katie’s mum is just selling fake spells,” said Samantha, who was also walking along with them: “A fake witch is worse than a real on if you ask me.”

“Well nobody is asking you,” said Katie.

“Actually, I’m asking her,” said Jenny, “Samantha, what do you think of Katie, her mum, and their shop.”

“Fake, fake fake,” said Samantha. And Jazz and Jenny thought that was hilarious.

Katie was used to being teased, but it particularly upset her when people said bad things about her mum. That evening she was still feeling glum, and she said to her mother:

“There’s a new girl at school who says that if you can’t see, spend, or eat something then it’s no good to anyone.”

“Well that’s nonsense,” said her mum who was busy mending an antique magic belt that was embroidered with all sorts of mysterious patterns. “There are lots of really important things that you can’t touch or see.”

“You mean like magic?,” asked Katie, “Because lots of people don’t believe it, so they think that we witches are fakes.”

“It’s not just magic that you can’t see,” said her mum. “And it’s not just magic that lots of folk don’t believe in. There have always been two types of people, and there always will be.”

“You mean like witches and ordinary people?”

“Not quite,” said her mother. “ Now, Katie, if you get your magic homework book, I’m going to tell you a story from Ancient Greece that explains what I am talking about. It’s a myth, so it’s not exactly true, but it has a deeper meaning…. that’s something lots of people find hard to understand too. According to the story, there are two great forces in the world. There are the giants who rule the earth, and the gods who rule the heavens. The giants are always trying to grab hold of anything that is solid, like rocks, trees, or buildings, and pull them to the ground. They want to dig up all the precious gold and silver that they can find, because they think that wealth will make them powerful. They plan to destroy the mountains that hold up the sky, so that the gods will come tumbling down to earth. But the gods are not afraid, because they don’t care about solid things. They value what you can’t touch or see. This war goes on and on, and it always will. We known this story from a wise man called Socrates, and it’s still just as true today as it was in ancient times.”

And when Katie still looked puzzled, her mum said that she was going to set some witch’s homework. By the end of the week, she had to find three important and valuable things that you can’t see, touch, spend, or eat – excluding magic. And although Katie thought that this was the strangest homework she had ever been set, she agreed to do her best.

The next day, Katie could not see anything invisible at all – which was not surprising when you come to think about it. Isis promised to help her look for something important that you can’t see, but she couldn’t find anything like that either – even though both of them kept looking hard right up until the bell for the end of school.

Her mum looked glum when she came to collect her. “Is anything the matter?” asked Katie.

“The owner of the shop is putting my the rent. I don’t think I can pay it. I’ll have to close at the end of the summer.”

“Oh that’s terrible !” said Katie giving her mother a hug, and trying not to burst into tears. As her head rested against her mother’s chest she thought, “Perhaps Jazz is right. Real things like money count for more than stuff you can’t see.”

Just as it seemed that life could not get any worse, it did. Their teacher, Miss Vile said to the class:

“This year’s school trip will be to a very special place. We are going to New York !” Everyone was super-excited because the furthest the school had ever been before was Clacton-on-Sea. But the letter they took home told their parents that the cost of the trip would be £800. Katie knew that her mother could not afford it. “Don’t worry mum,” she said. “I really don’t mind about the school trip.” But of course she felt left out. And it seemed like yet more proof that things like money really do matter most in life.

“I’m really worried,” said Katie to Isis, the next day, “because bad things always happen in threes. What awful thing can happen to me today?”

“Don’t believe that nonsense,” said Isis, “It’s only superstition.”

And Isis was right, because nothing bad did happen that day.

“Mum, I’m so grateful nothing bad happened today,” said Katie when she got home.

“Well done darling,” said her mum. “That’s one important thing you have found that you can’t see, touch or eat.”

“Have I? What?” said Katie puzzled.

“Gratitude”, said her mum. “We must always be grateful for anything good that happens, or anything bad that doesn’t happen. In fact we must be grateful for all the happinesses and good fortunes that we have. Gratitude makes us much more content with life.”

“Oh I see,” said Katie. “Now I’m beginning to understand.

It was Friday. Katie was secretly pleased that she had managed to get to the end of such a bad week. Isis’s mum picked her up from school to come over for a sleep-over. It was going to be such fun.

“I spoke to your mum today,” she said, “And she’s agreed that you can come pony trekking again with us at the half-term.”

Katie was amazed. “But isn’t Isis going on the school trip at half-term?” she asked.

“She doesn’t want to go to New York without her best-friend,” said Isis’s mum. And Katie realised that she had found another really, really important thing that you can’t see or touch : friendship.

Katie and Isis chatted long after light’s out about all sorts of things, but mostly about the important things that you can’t see, eat or spend. “I still don’t know who is right though,” said Katie, “The giants who believe in solid things like money and riches, or the gods who believe in things like gratitude and friendship. If you could see how worried mum is about having to close the shop, you couldn’t fail to see that money is really important.”

“Perhaps they are both right,” said Isis, “But I believe that the gods are more right than the giants.
Those sorts of of invisible things like friendship and gratitude are are much more important than the solid stuff.”

“I’m not sure that you are right,” said Katie, “But I do hope that you are.”

Katie’s mum came to pick her up from Isis’s house after tea on Saturday. The girls had been out to the pony farm to ride Isis’s horse and had enjoyed a lovely day. Katie noticed that her mum’s face looked far more relaxed than last time she had seen her. In the car she said: “Tell me mum, have you got some good news?”

“I have,” replied her mum. And she explained that a woman from a TV show called “DES RES” which was short for “Desirable Residence”, had been into the shop several times, and wanted to feature it in her next series. She loved some of the wooden statues and beautifully embroidered cushions, and she thought that they would feature in a make-over of an old-run down country house, which could be turned into some sort of Aladdin’s Palace.

“Wow”, said Katie, “Her daughter is in my class at school. Her name is Jazz and she said all sorts of horrible snooty things about your shop.”

“Well her mother loves it” ! Said Katie’s mum thrilled, “And the landlord says he won’t put the rent up for another year if we are on TV, because publicity will be good for the whole street. And of course it wouldn’t look nice for him if the TV show heard that he was being mean to us and that we had to close down.”

Katie was thrilled. She thought: “This is perfect revenge on Jazz. She’ll have to eat her words.” And she realised that revenge was something you can’t see, but she also knew that her mum would not approve of it, so she did not say what she was thinking.

On Monday, she went to school with a spring in her step. As luck would have it, she and Jazz both arrived in the classroom a few minutes early. They were alone together. Jazz said: “Katie there’s something I want to say to you.”

“What’s that?” said Katie getting ready for some nasty barbed comment.

“Sorry,” said Jazz.

Katie was amazed. She was more stunned than the time Jazz had been really mean to her. And she realised that she had discovered too more really important but invisible things. Apologising, and forgiveness.

And that was the story of Katie and the Giants. I do hope that you enjoyed it. Which side are you on, The Giants or the Gods ? Or perhaps sometimes you are on one side, and other times on the other? It’s something to think about. And for those who like to know about this sort of thing, the original story of the Giants and the Gods can be found in a book called The Sophist by Plato.

Our Katie stories are one of our most popular series on Storynory.com. There are many more stories on the site too, so do drop by and listen to some soon.

And you might like to know that you can now listen to our Story, Katie and the Witch’s swap, for free on the site. But if you would can buy our iPhone and iPad app with 17 original illustrations for story that would be fantastic. And thanks too to everyone who bought the Witch’s Swap story when it was for sale, and to everyone who has made donations to Storynory.

For now, from me, Natasha

Bye Bye !

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/08/katie-and-the-giants/feed/ 81 http://storynory.com/2012/05/08/chap-19-wonderful-wizard-of-oz/ http://storynory.com/2012/05/08/chap-19-wonderful-wizard-of-oz/#comments Tue, 08 May 2012 10:00:55 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9398 Download Audio


Dorothy and her friends are not out of danger yet. They leave the Emerald City to resume their travels and run into a very unusual form of danger.

Read by Natasha.


19. Attacked by the Fighting Trees

The next morning Dorothy kissed the pretty green girl good-bye, and
they all shook hands with the soldier with the green whiskers, who had
walked with them as far as the gate. When the Guardian of the Gate saw
them again he wondered greatly that they could leave the beautiful City
to get into new trouble. But he at once unlocked their spectacles,
which he put back into the green box, and gave them many good wishes to
carry with them.

“You are now our ruler,” he said to the Scarecrow; “so you must come
back to us as soon as possible.”

“I certainly shall if I am able,” the Scarecrow replied; “but I must
help Dorothy to get home, first.”

As Dorothy bade the good-natured Guardian a last farewell she said:

“I have been very kindly treated in your lovely City, and everyone has
been good to me. I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”

“Don’t try, my dear,” he answered. “We should like to keep you with
us, but if it is your wish to return to Kansas, I hope you will find a
way.” He then opened the gate of the outer wall, and they walked forth
and started upon their journey.

The sun shone brightly as our friends turned their faces toward the
Land of the South. They were all in the best of spirits, and laughed
and chatted together. Dorothy was once more filled with the hope of
getting home, and the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman were glad to be of
use to her. As for the Lion, he sniffed the fresh air with delight and
whisked his tail from side to side in pure joy at being in the country
again, while Toto ran around them and chased the moths and butterflies,
barking merrily all the time.

“City life does not agree with me at all,” remarked the Lion, as they
walked along at a brisk pace. “I have lost much flesh since I lived
there, and now I am anxious for a chance to show the other beasts how
courageous I have grown.”

They now turned and took a last look at the Emerald City. All they
could see was a mass of towers and steeples behind the green walls, and
high up above everything the spires and dome of the Palace of Oz.

“Oz was not such a bad Wizard, after all,” said the Tin Woodman, as he
felt his heart rattling around in his breast.

“He knew how to give me brains, and very good brains, too,” said the
Scarecrow.

“If Oz had taken a dose of the same courage he gave me,” added the
Lion, “he would have been a brave man.”

Dorothy said nothing. Oz had not kept the promise he made her, but he
had done his best, so she forgave him. As he said, he was a good man,
even if he was a bad Wizard.

The first day’s journey was through the green fields and bright flowers
that stretched about the Emerald City on every side. They slept that
night on the grass, with nothing but the stars over them; and they
rested very well indeed.

In the morning they traveled on until they came to a thick wood. There
was no way of going around it, for it seemed to extend to the right and
left as far as they could see; and, besides, they did not dare change
the direction of their journey for fear of getting lost. So they
looked for the place where it would be easiest to get into the forest.

The Scarecrow, who was in the lead, finally discovered a big tree with
such wide-spreading branches that there was room for the party to pass
underneath. So he walked forward to the tree, but just as he came
under the first branches they bent down and twined around him, and the
next minute he was raised from the ground and flung headlong among his
fellow travelers.

This did not hurt the Scarecrow, but it surprised him, and he looked
rather dizzy when Dorothy picked him up.

“Here is another space between the trees,” called the Lion.

“Let me try it first,” said the Scarecrow, “for it doesn’t hurt me to
get thrown about.” He walked up to another tree, as he spoke, but its
branches immediately seized him and tossed him back again.

“This is strange,” exclaimed Dorothy. “What shall we do?”

“The trees seem to have made up their minds to fight us, and stop our
journey,” remarked the Lion.

“I believe I will try it myself,” said the Woodman, and shouldering his
axe, he marched up to the first tree that had handled the Scarecrow so
roughly. When a big branch bent down to seize him the Woodman chopped
at it so fiercely that he cut it in two. At once the tree began
shaking all its branches as if in pain, and the Tin Woodman passed
safely under it.

“Come on!” he shouted to the others. “Be quick!” They all ran forward
and passed under the tree without injury, except Toto, who was caught
by a small branch and shaken until he howled. But the Woodman promptly
chopped off the branch and set the little dog free.

The other trees of the forest did nothing to keep them back, so they
made up their minds that only the first row of trees could bend down
their branches, and that probably these were the policemen of the
forest, and given this wonderful power in order to keep strangers out
of it.

The four travelers walked with ease through the trees until they came
to the farther edge of the wood. Then, to their surprise, they found
before them a high wall which seemed to be made of white china. It was
smooth, like the surface of a dish, and higher than their heads.

“What shall we do now?” asked Dorothy.

“I will make a ladder,” said the Tin Woodman, “for we certainly must
climb over the wall.”

20. The Dainty China Country

While the Woodman was making a ladder from wood which he found in the
forest Dorothy lay down and slept, for she was tired by the long walk.
The Lion also curled himself up to sleep and Toto lay beside him.

The Scarecrow watched the Woodman while he worked, and said to him:

“I cannot think why this wall is here, nor what it is made of.”

“Rest your brains and do not worry about the wall,” replied the
Woodman. “When we have climbed over it, we shall know what is on the
other side.”

After a time the ladder was finished. It looked clumsy, but the Tin
Woodman was sure it was strong and would answer their purpose. The
Scarecrow waked Dorothy and the Lion and Toto, and told them that the
ladder was ready. The Scarecrow climbed up the ladder first, but he
was so awkward that Dorothy had to follow close behind and keep him
from falling off. When he got his head over the top of the wall the
Scarecrow said, “Oh, my!”

“Go on,” exclaimed Dorothy.

So the Scarecrow climbed farther up and sat down on the top of the
wall, and Dorothy put her head over and cried, “Oh, my!” just as the
Scarecrow had done.

Then Toto came up, and immediately began to bark, but Dorothy made him
be still.

The Lion climbed the ladder next, and the Tin Woodman came last; but
both of them cried, “Oh, my!” as soon as they looked over the wall.
When they were all sitting in a row on the top of the wall, they looked
down and saw a strange sight.

Before them was a great stretch of country having a floor as smooth and
shining and white as the bottom of a big platter. Scattered around
were many houses made entirely of china and painted in the brightest
colors. These houses were quite small, the biggest of them reaching
only as high as Dorothy’s waist. There were also pretty little barns,
with china fences around them; and many cows and sheep and horses and
pigs and chickens, all made of china, were standing about in groups.

But the strangest of all were the people who lived in this queer
country. There were milkmaids and shepherdesses, with brightly colored
bodices and golden spots all over their gowns; and princesses with most
gorgeous frocks of silver and gold and purple; and shepherds dressed in
knee breeches with pink and yellow and blue stripes down them, and
golden buckles on their shoes; and princes with jeweled crowns upon
their heads, wearing ermine robes and satin doublets; and funny clowns
in ruffled gowns, with round red spots upon their cheeks and tall,
pointed caps. And, strangest of all, these people were all made of
china, even to their clothes, and were so small that the tallest of
them was no higher than Dorothy’s knee.

No one did so much as look at the travelers at first, except one little
purple china dog with an extra-large head, which came to the wall and
barked at them in a tiny voice, afterwards running away again.

“How shall we get down?” asked Dorothy.

They found the ladder so heavy they could not pull it up, so the
Scarecrow fell off the wall and the others jumped down upon him so that
the hard floor would not hurt their feet. Of course they took pains
not to light on his head and get the pins in their feet. When all were
safely down they picked up the Scarecrow, whose body was quite
flattened out, and patted his straw into shape again.

“We must cross this strange place in order to get to the other side,”
said Dorothy, “for it would be unwise for us to go any other way except
due South.”

They began walking through the country of the china people, and the
first thing they came to was a china milkmaid milking a china cow. As
they drew near, the cow suddenly gave a kick and kicked over the stool,
the pail, and even the milkmaid herself, and all fell on the china
ground with a great clatter.

Dorothy was shocked to see that the cow had broken her leg off, and
that the pail was lying in several small pieces, while the poor
milkmaid had a nick in her left elbow.

“There!” cried the milkmaid angrily. “See what you have done! My cow
has broken her leg, and I must take her to the mender’s shop and have
it glued on again. What do you mean by coming here and frightening my
cow?”

“I’m very sorry,” returned Dorothy. “Please forgive us.”

But the pretty milkmaid was much too vexed to make any answer. She
picked up the leg sulkily and led her cow away, the poor animal limping
on three legs. As she left them the milkmaid cast many reproachful
glances over her shoulder at the clumsy strangers, holding her nicked
elbow close to her side.

Dorothy was quite grieved at this mishap.

“We must be very careful here,” said the kind-hearted Woodman, “or we
may hurt these pretty little people so they will never get over it.”

A little farther on Dorothy met a most beautifully dressed young
Princess, who stopped short as she saw the strangers and started to run
away.

Dorothy wanted to see more of the Princess, so she ran after her. But
the china girl cried out:

“Don’t chase me! Don’t chase me!”

She had such a frightened little voice that Dorothy stopped and said,
“Why not?”

“Because,” answered the Princess, also stopping, a safe distance away,
“if I run I may fall down and break myself.”

“But could you not be mended?” asked the girl.

“Oh, yes; but one is never so pretty after being mended, you know,”
replied the Princess.

“I suppose not,” said Dorothy.

“Now there is Mr. Joker, one of our clowns,” continued the china lady,
“who is always trying to stand upon his head. He has broken himself so
often that he is mended in a hundred places, and doesn’t look at all
pretty. Here he comes now, so you can see for yourself.”

Indeed, a jolly little clown came walking toward them, and Dorothy
could see that in spite of his pretty clothes of red and yellow and
green he was completely covered with cracks, running every which way
and showing plainly that he had been mended in many places.

The Clown put his hands in his pockets, and after puffing out his
cheeks and nodding his head at them saucily, he said:

“My lady fair,
Why do you stare
At poor old Mr. Joker?
You’re quite as stiff
And prim as if
You’d eaten up a poker!”

“Be quiet, sir!” said the Princess. “Can’t you see these are
strangers, and should be treated with respect?”

“Well, that’s respect, I expect,” declared the Clown, and immediately
stood upon his head.

“Don’t mind Mr. Joker,” said the Princess to Dorothy. “He is
considerably cracked in his head, and that makes him foolish.”

“Oh, I don’t mind him a bit,” said Dorothy. “But you are so
beautiful,” she continued, “that I am sure I could love you dearly.
Won’t you let me carry you back to Kansas, and stand you on Aunt Em’s
mantel? I could carry you in my basket.”

“That would make me very unhappy,” answered the china Princess. “You
see, here in our country we live contentedly, and can talk and move
around as we please. But whenever any of us are taken away our joints
at once stiffen, and we can only stand straight and look pretty. Of
course that is all that is expected of us when we are on mantels and
cabinets and drawing-room tables, but our lives are much pleasanter
here in our own country.”

“I would not make you unhappy for all the world!” exclaimed Dorothy.
“So I’ll just say good-bye.”

“Good-bye,” replied the Princess.

They walked carefully through the china country. The little animals
and all the people scampered out of their way, fearing the strangers
would break them, and after an hour or so the travelers reached the
other side of the country and came to another china wall.

It was not so high as the first, however, and by standing upon the
Lion’s back they all managed to scramble to the top. Then the Lion
gathered his legs under him and jumped on the wall; but just as he
jumped, he upset a china church with his tail and smashed it all to
pieces.

“That was too bad,” said Dorothy, “but really I think we were lucky in
not doing these little people more harm than breaking a cow’s leg and a
church. They are all so brittle!”

“They are, indeed,” said the Scarecrow, “and I am thankful I am made of
straw and cannot be easily damaged. There are worse things in the
world than being a Scarecrow.”

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/08/chap-19-wonderful-wizard-of-oz/feed/ 8 http://storynory.com/2012/05/07/chap-18-wonderful-wizard-of-oz/ http://storynory.com/2012/05/07/chap-18-wonderful-wizard-of-oz/#comments Mon, 07 May 2012 23:52:16 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9380 Download Audio



The Wizard has fulfilled his promises to Dorothy’s friends, but not to her. She still has not found a way to get back to kansas. She thinks of asking her old friends, the Winged Monkeys, to see if they can help.

Read by Natasha.

Away to the South

Dorothy wept bitterly at the passing of her hope to get home to Kansas
again; but when she thought it all over she was glad she had not gone
up in a balloon. And she also felt sorry at losing Oz, and so did her
companions.

The Tin Woodman came to her and said:

“Truly I should be ungrateful if I failed to mourn for the man who gave
me my lovely heart. I should like to cry a little because Oz is gone,
if you will kindly wipe away my tears, so that I shall not rust.”

“With pleasure,” she answered, and brought a towel at once. Then the
Tin Woodman wept for several minutes, and she watched the tears
carefully and wiped them away with the towel. When he had finished, he
thanked her kindly and oiled himself thoroughly with his jeweled
oil-can, to guard against mishap.

The Scarecrow was now the ruler of the Emerald City, and although he
was not a Wizard the people were proud of him. “For,” they said,
“there is not another city in all the world that is ruled by a stuffed
man.” And, so far as they knew, they were quite right.

The morning after the balloon had gone up with Oz, the four travelers
met in the Throne Room and talked matters over. The Scarecrow sat in
the big throne and the others stood respectfully before him.

“We are not so unlucky,” said the new ruler, “for this Palace and the
Emerald City belong to us, and we can do just as we please. When I
remember that a short time ago I was up on a pole in a farmer’s
cornfield, and that now I am the ruler of this beautiful City, I am
quite satisfied with my lot.”

“I also,” said the Tin Woodman, “am well-pleased with my new heart;
and, really, that was the only thing I wished in all the world.”

“For my part, I am content in knowing I am as brave as any beast that
ever lived, if not braver,” said the Lion modestly.

“If Dorothy would only be contented to live in the Emerald City,”
continued the Scarecrow, “we might all be happy together.”

“But I don’t want to live here,” cried Dorothy. “I want to go to
Kansas, and live with Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.”

“Well, then, what can be done?” inquired the Woodman.

The Scarecrow decided to think, and he thought so hard that the pins
and needles began to stick out of his brains. Finally he said:

“Why not call the Winged Monkeys, and ask them to carry you over the
desert?”

“I never thought of that!” said Dorothy joyfully. “It’s just the
thing. I’ll go at once for the Golden Cap.”

When she brought it into the Throne Room she spoke the magic words, and
soon the band of Winged Monkeys flew in through the open window and
stood beside her.

“This is the second time you have called us,” said the Monkey King,
bowing before the little girl. “What do you wish?”

“I want you to fly with me to Kansas,” said Dorothy.

But the Monkey King shook his head.

“That cannot be done,” he said. “We belong to this country alone, and
cannot leave it. There has never been a Winged Monkey in Kansas yet,
and I suppose there never will be, for they don’t belong there. We
shall be glad to serve you in any way in our power, but we cannot cross
the desert. Good-bye.”

And with another bow, the Monkey King spread his wings and flew away
through the window, followed by all his band.

Dorothy was ready to cry with disappointment. “I have wasted the charm
of the Golden Cap to no purpose,” she said, “for the Winged Monkeys
cannot help me.”

“It is certainly too bad!” said the tender-hearted Woodman.

The Scarecrow was thinking again, and his head bulged out so horribly
that Dorothy feared it would burst.

“Let us call in the soldier with the green whiskers,” he said, “and ask
his advice.”

So the soldier was summoned and entered the Throne Room timidly, for
while Oz was alive he never was allowed to come farther than the door.

“This little girl,” said the Scarecrow to the soldier, “wishes to cross
the desert. How can she do so?”

“I cannot tell,” answered the soldier, “for nobody has ever crossed the
desert, unless it is Oz himself.”

“Is there no one who can help me?” asked Dorothy earnestly.

“Glinda might,” he suggested.

“Who is Glinda?” inquired the Scarecrow.

“The Witch of the South. She is the most powerful of all the Witches,
and rules over the Quadlings. Besides, her castle stands on the edge
of the desert, so she may know a way to cross it.”

“Glinda is a Good Witch, isn’t she?” asked the child.

“The Quadlings think she is good,” said the soldier, “and she is kind
to everyone. I have heard that Glinda is a beautiful woman, who knows
how to keep young in spite of the many years she has lived.”

“How can I get to her castle?” asked Dorothy.

“The road is straight to the South,” he answered, “but it is said to be
full of dangers to travelers. There are wild beasts in the woods, and
a race of queer men who do not like strangers to cross their country.
For this reason none of the Quadlings ever come to the Emerald City.”

The soldier then left them and the Scarecrow said:

“It seems, in spite of dangers, that the best thing Dorothy can do is
to travel to the Land of the South and ask Glinda to help her. For, of
course, if Dorothy stays here she will never get back to Kansas.”

“You must have been thinking again,” remarked the Tin Woodman.

“I have,” said the Scarecrow.

“I shall go with Dorothy,” declared the Lion, “for I am tired of your
city and long for the woods and the country again. I am really a wild
beast, you know. Besides, Dorothy will need someone to protect her.”

“That is true,” agreed the Woodman. “My axe may be of service to her;
so I also will go with her to the Land of the South.”

“When shall we start?” asked the Scarecrow.

“Are you going?” they asked, in surprise.

“Certainly. If it wasn’t for Dorothy I should never have had brains.
She lifted me from the pole in the cornfield and brought me to the
Emerald City. So my good luck is all due to her, and I shall never
leave her until she starts back to Kansas for good and all.”

“Thank you,” said Dorothy gratefully. “You are all very kind to me.
But I should like to start as soon as possible.”

“We shall go tomorrow morning,” returned the Scarecrow. “So now let us
all get ready, for it will be a long journey.”

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/05/07/chap-18-wonderful-wizard-of-oz/feed/ 8 http://storynory.com/2012/04/27/audio-workshop-a-little-red-riding-hood-group-2/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/27/audio-workshop-a-little-red-riding-hood-group-2/#comments Fri, 27 Apr 2012 14:47:51 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9284 Download Audio



Listen to the audio of the children from group 2 performing the Little Red Riding Hood play, as they rehearsed it in the Theatre studio.

Thanks again to the children for a great performance!

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/27/audio-workshop-a-little-red-riding-hood-group-2/feed/ 0 http://storynory.com/2012/04/27/storynory-audio-workshop-a-little-red-riding-hood/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/27/storynory-audio-workshop-a-little-red-riding-hood/#comments Fri, 27 Apr 2012 14:37:33 +0000 Natasha http://storynory.com/?p=8609 Download Audio

Natasha from Storynory held another Audio Dramatic Workshop on the 16th of February at The Cockpit Theatre, Marlyebone for children in the local area.

She taught drama and storytelling skills based on ‘A Little Red Riding Hood’ to the children. Children rehearsed the scripts to practice reading their characters parts out loud, before recording their stories in the studio as a live piece of audio.

Once in the recording studio children learnt about audio sound recording from Storynory producer Hugh Fraser. They also received voice-over tips from Natasha, before performing their story in front of  a broadcasting  microphone.

Once they had performed their stories, children had the chance to listen back to their performances, gain feedback, and perform a final dramatic version recorded as an MP3*.

The recording of group one appears above, and group two follows on a separate page.

Storynory would like to thank the children who gave such excellent energy and readings of the fairy tale on the day. We would also like to thank the Cockpit Theatre, Richard Scott and Lola O’Sullivan from ASQ Education for their help in running the workshop.

If you would like to find out more about Storynory Audio Dramatic Workshops that we offer in Theatres and Schools, please contact:

natasha@storynory.com

Bye Bye

N*

 

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/27/storynory-audio-workshop-a-little-red-riding-hood/feed/ 0 http://storynory.com/2012/04/23/katie-and-the-witchs-swap-free/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/23/katie-and-the-witchs-swap-free/#comments Mon, 23 Apr 2012 06:04:01 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9257 Download Audio



Click Pictures to Enlarge

By popular demand, the single paid-for story on Storynory is now free. Thank you to everyone who supported us by buying it. If you would like all 17 of the lovely pictures by CaiJia, and you have and iPad or iPhone, you can still buy our Katie and the Witch’s Swap app from the Apple Store. And of course you can always make a donation !

Katie and her best friend Isis are very different from one another. Apart from the fact that Katie is a witch, and Isis isn’t, there are many more differences. Isis has a nice big house, nice clothes, and a very pretty face. Katie is not nearly so well-off in those ways. One day Katie and Isis decide to swap their lives. Katie uses her magic powers for the experiment.

Read by Natasha.
Pictures by CaiJia Eng.
Story by Bertie.

It was 9 am on Monday morning, and the corridor at school was echoing with shrill voices and swarming with every type of kid – neat, scruffy, tall, dumpy, nice-mannered, plain rude, sporty, smart, not so smart, and the odd genius.

Each and everyone of them was unique. For instance, who else but Katie knew the magic spell for turning brown bread into chocolate cake? And who else but Isis came to school with a brand new hair band every Monday? Katie found herself walking behind the blond head of her best friend now. She tapped her on the shoulder:

“Nice hair band” she said.

“Oh, Thank you,” said Isis. “And that’s a pretty hair band that you’re wearing too.”

Katie was surprised, because Isis didn’t normally compliment her on what she was wearing. “Do you really think so?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” replied Isis, “In fact, let’s swap.” And before class, there was just time to swap hair accessories and check how they looked in Isis’s compact mirror.

The swap brightened up a dull Monday, and it was kind it was kind of nice to exchange something because, well, you would only do that sort of thing with your best friend.

On Tuesday they swapped shoes. Isis wore Katie’s solid clumpy lace-ups that were strictly school regulation issue. As she took her first steps in them she said:

“ Katie I don’t know how you walk in these without turning into Dobbin the Mule.”

And Katie tottered along in Isis’s pointy slip-ons with hints of heals. Miss Vile told her that if she ever wore them again she would be sent home to change into sensible shoes.

“That’s not fair,” thought Katie, “No teacher ever said that to Isis.”

On Wednesday they swapped MP3 players. Katie listened to Isis’s chart topping girl band music and thought it was fun to dance to for one evening, but Isis didn’t listen to Katie’s underground rock music because it was far too weird.

On Thursday they swapped books. Isis did try to read Katie’s book on famous witches in history, but it was really hard going because it was printed in strange Gothic letters. Katie read two chapters of Isis’s paperback novel about a girl who who had a magic pony, but she thought it was all nonsense, because the writer clearly didn’t have any experience or knowledge of magic in real life.

On Friday they swapped watches. Katie wore Isis’s watch that little teddy bears instead of numbers, and Isis wore Katie’s magic watch that went backwards for some reason that Katie tried to explain, but Isis simply couldn’t for the life of her understand.

But the following Monday neither of them could think what else to swap. So they didn’t – at least, not until it was going home time. As they were crossing the school playground toward the gate, Katie said:

“I know. Let’s go the whole way. Let’s swap identities.”

“You mean like, passports?”

“No silly. Like I become you and you become me, just for a day…. oh go on, please Isis, say you will, it will be such fun, and nobody will every know.”

“But that’s impos….” But of course it wasn’t – because Katie’s a witch and can do all sorts of things that you wouldn’t think were at all possible, although they can work out rather strangely sometimes. A moment later Isis realised that she was looking at herself … only it wasn’t herself, because she was herself, but suddenly Katie looked like Isis….

“Oh no! “ she screeched ….. And then she burst into fits of giggles. “And do you mean to say I look like you?”

“Of course,”

“Oh Gross.. !….. Oh I didn’t mean it like that, it was just a joke Katie…. “ But Katie wasn’t hurt because it was all too exciting.

Outside the school Gate, Katie went to meet Isis’s mum in her car, and Isis went to meet Katie’s mum in her car. The inside of Isis’s family car smelt of “newness”. As Katie strapped herself into the unfamiliar soft white leather seat, Isis’s mum kissed her and asked, “had a good day darling?” And Katie thought: “Life as Isis isn’t going to be half bad. ”

And as Isis searched for the seat-belt buckle in a rather rustier and smaller car than she was used to, Katie’s mum snapped her fingers and the seat belt fastened itself up. And Isis thought: “It’s quite nice to be Katie, when every problem can be solved in a snap.”

Isis had never been to Katie’s house before. As she came in, she was amazed at the amounts of clutter in the corridor – there were so many coats, cloaks, and hats that it was hard to find a peg for her coat – and it only got worse the further she got into the house – the living room was so full of boxes, fabrics, glass jars, old-fashioned dolls, unconnected chandeliers, and piled up antique furniture that she couldn’t find the television set, let alone the remote control.

But Isis’s house was so spacious and empty that Katie did not know where to start looking for Isis’s room. She went up the broad sweeping staircase and found that there were six doors and two more floors to the top. Then she remembered that she still had Isis’s book in her school bag. She took it out, and said “Book, which is Isis’s room?” and the book said: “Third door on the left.”

Over in the other house, as Isis went upstairs, Katie’s mum called out, “Katie, can you switch on the crystal ball and see if you can find Solomon? He hasn’t been back since he went for a walk last night and I’m starting to get worried about him.”

“Sure mum, “ Isis called back. She knew that Solomon was Katie’s cat, but she had no idea where the crystal ball was, let alone how to switch it on. She explored the three rooms upstairs. One was the bathroom. One had a double bed. The other was clearly Katie’s room, because her school books and clothes were strewn all over the floor. A crystal ball sat among the pens and piles of paper on Katie’s dressing table. She examined it, looking in vain for an on-off switch.

In Isis’s bedroom, Katie was trying on her friend’s tortoise shell sun glasses. They fitted so perfectly over her pretty, slightly turned up nose. She looked into the mirror and thought:

“It’s not hard to be popular with a face like this.”

Meanwhile Isis was looking into Katie’s mirror and couldn’t help sniggering, because even though Katy was her best friend, her face was kind of funny.

Katie searched through Isis’s wardrobe for something simple to wear around the house but she couldn’t find anything at all suitable- not the black baby-doll dress, not the tennis outfit, not the emerald floor length silk party dress, not the jodhpurs, not the skiing pants, not he silk scarves or pashminas, not… not anything really.

Isis was changing into one of Katie’s hooded running shirts. She wouldn’t be seen dead in one normally, but since she looked like Katie, it sort of suited her.

When Katie came down for dinner wearing a pristine white shirt, she found her place around the dining table that was as long as swimming pool and Isis’s mum said: “ I called Miss Vile and she agreed to change your B+ for Geography to A.”

“My goodness, How did you manage to mellow Miss Vile?” asked Katie

“Oh, I used my powers of persuasion,” said Isis’s mum. And Katie thought different mothers had different powers. Her own mum would never think of trying to make Miss Vile change her grades, even though she could easily put a magic spell on her.

And when Isis sat down at the kitchen table in Katie’s house, Katie’s mum said: “Did you manage to track down Solomon on the crystal ball?”

And Isis put on Katie’s puzzled expression and said:

“No, I can’t see him anywhere.”

And Katie’s mum looked worried and said that it was really unusual for him not to come home for dinner. She ladled out the witch’s broth into a bowl. Isis looked at the lumpy green liquid and thought , “Will she believe me if I say I’m not feeling well?

Meanwhile Katie was looking at three wafer thin slices of parma ham and half a skinned avocado on her white plate and thinking “is that it?” A moment or two later her plate was empty. Isis’ mum asked :

“Anything else dear?”

“Any chance of some ice cream?” asked Katie?

And Isis’s mum turned as white as vanilla and exclaimed ! “Ice cream? You’ve never asked for that before. It’s full of sugar. You’ll get spots !”

While at Katie’s house, Isis had finished her Witch’s Broth, and found that it was quite tasty really, and it gave her a nice warm, full feeling inside. Katie’s mum brought her a cornet with a large round ball of mint-chocolate chip ice cream and she thought “Yum Yum”.

It was a very happy Isis that went upstairs to Katie’s room after dinner. She thought to herself that Katie’s mum really was a sweety, even if she was a witch. And there was a nice surprise waiting for her on her pillow: Solomon. “Naughty cat,” she said, “You had us all worried. “ She picked him up and was about to call out “Mum, I’ve found him,” when Solomon let out a screech and scratched her nose.

“AHHH…” she called out, and Solomon streaked downstairs. As she examined the damage in the mirror she thought: “Well at least it’s Katie’s nose he scratched, not mine.”

Meanwhile, in Isis’s bedroom, Katie was doing her friend’s homework. It was full of horrid maths problems, and she was far too excited to sit down and concentrate, so she used a quick magic spell. At home, she wasn’t allowed to use magic for her school-work, but well, she wasn’t at home, and besides, this was Isis’s work, and it had to look ever so neat. She changed a few answers to make them wrong, otherwise the teacher might suspect something was up .

And Isis sat at Katie’s table, and tried to do some scrawly handwriting that looked like her friend’s. She made sure that there was an ink blot on the page because that’s what Katie’s work normally looked like .

Later on, Isis sat in bed wearing Katie’s psychedelic pyjamas, and opened up Katie’s diary. All the pages were blank.

“I bet she uses invisible ink,” she said to herself, and she thought for a long time about what the magic password might be. Somehow, with the witch’s broth inside her tummy, she thought she might have some magical inspiration. “I know”, she said, “It’s catnip!” and in an instant, all the pages were covered in Katie’s messy handwriting. She turned the corners avidly looking for remarks about herself, but most of it seemed to be about somebody called Paul.

But Katie was reading Isis’s diary, and she found that she only filled it in about once a week, and then it was usually to say something about her pony. She picked up a pen and wrote

“Today I did a big swap with my best friend Katie who is an extremely clever witch.”

In the morning, Isis tried to comb her hair, which was of course Katie’s hair and far more tangled and knotty than her own. It was really quite painful. And Katie looked in the mirror at Isis’s face and thought:

“It’s nice to be a blond”.

She slipped on Isis’s pointy shoes and was pleased to think that Miss Vile wouldn’t send her home to change them because Isis could get away with so many stylish things that she couldn’t.

When the two friends saw each other at school, at first they couldn’t help giggling, but then Isis said:

“Hey Katie, that shirt’s not tucked in. And look at this: your tie’s not straight. And as for your – I mean my – hair – couldn’t you find my comb? Now that you’re me, you’ve got standards to keep up. You can’t go around looking like a scruff when you are wearing my identity.”

And Katie said: “Why did Solomon scratch your – I mean my – face? If you’ve been nasty to my cat I’ll kill you!”

And they would have quarrelled more, only Miss Vile came into the class room and they had to sit down at each other’s desks and keep quiet. At break-time they both avoided each other. Katie hung out with Isis’s friends, and Isis didn’t quite know who to hang out with, because Katie didn’t have nearly so many friends as she did. She went for a walk by herself around the playing field, and on the way back to the class room she met Rachel, a tall girl from the year above, who said:

“Hey Katie, have you been out collecting toads?“ Which was the sort of nasty thing that some people said to Katie quite often.

As Isis shook her fist, the girl said sarcastically “ Oooh–ooh, don’t put a magic spell on me.”

Meanwhile Katie was listening to Samantha and Isabelle chatter on about which soap stars were going out with which footballers according to Hot Gossip magazine.

“Sometimes, “ thought Katie, “It’s just a bit boring being Isis.” And she began to see that having perfect looks, perfect clothes, and a perfect house could become a bit of a pain after a while.

And so at lunchtime, the two friends hugged each other, and Katie whispered the magic reverse-spell to turn them back into themselves.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” said Isis, as she looked at her pretty hands and neatly cut fingernails.

“Well I’m kind of comfortable in my own skin too,” said Katie. And she thought to herself that although there was a lot to be said for being somebody else for a while, if only to get a new view on life, you could only really be happy as yourself, imperfections and all.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/23/katie-and-the-witchs-swap-free/feed/ 77 http://storynory.com/2012/04/15/song-wine-dark-sea/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/15/song-wine-dark-sea/#comments Sun, 15 Apr 2012 22:35:58 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9198 Download Audio



This haunting and romantic song tells how Jason asked Medea to sail with him across the wine dark sea.

Composed and Sung by Gabriella Burnel
Drums and inspiration by Jayesh Vadukul
Guitar and Base by Drew Wynen
Words by Bertie
Engineer Felipe Elcanja
Recorded at Forward Motion Studios with thanks to Jas
Picture by Nick Hayes

Now stealing stealthily down to the sea
By the path I knew as a child,
I found the fobidden boat hidden
In a place that was dark and wild.

My sleepy pharmacy I’ll slip into the stream.
It is a powerful draught
The dragon drinks, to sleep he sinks
I’m a witch who knows her craft.

Now at last he took me in his arms,
And this is what he said,

“Sail with me, across the wine dark sea,
In my ship as swift as a thought.
By the Lady of Olympus, Hera the Lovely
I’ll marry you like I ought.”

I was so naive, I wanted to believe
I ached indeed with fever !
A man like this a woman would kiss,
And he would never leave her.

What a fool, I was, to loose my cool ,
And to be taken in by lies
A whirling, swirling, girly girl.
The sort I despise.

And now at last, with eyes downcast
The liar spoke the truth.
“Yes it’s true that I swore, but that was before
I had seen the awful proof.”

My life she saved, but her family she betrayed,
Her soul with sin is rife.”

And now at last, with eyes downcast
He was never to say again:

“Sail with me, across the wine dark sea,
In my ship as swift as a thought.
By the Lady of Olympus, Hera the Lovely
I’ll marry you like I ought.”

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/15/song-wine-dark-sea/feed/ 51 http://storynory.com/2012/04/15/jason-and-medea-part-four-the-escape/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/15/jason-and-medea-part-four-the-escape/#comments Sun, 15 Apr 2012 22:34:14 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9187 Download Audio

Pictures by Nick Hayes. Click to enlarge.

Please find the entire series filed under Greek Myths and don’t miss three fabulous songs which go with the story.

The final part of Jason and Medea is action packed. Jason must drive fierce bulls to plough Ares’ field, fight off an army of skeleton men, and take the Golden Fleece from the cave guarded by a dragon. Will the beautiful witch Medea help him? Will he keep his promises to her?

There is an postscript. The Greek writer, Euripides, penned a famous drama entitled Medea. He gave the tale a gory ending. But some people think Euripides made up his violent finale to slander the non-Greek Medea. We give the story our own twist in the final scene.

Read by Natasha Gostwick.
Pictures by Nick Hayes.
Music by Gabriella Burnel.
Words by Bertie.




Jason and Medea, The Story of the Golden Fleece, told in verse in four parts, by Storynory.
Part Four : The Escape

When the sun revealed the bright day at dawn
We gathered on Ares field.
The bulls snorted, they would not be thwarted,
And to the yoke they would not yield.

The crowd waited. My hero hesitated.
He did not hasten in.
But I knew he had bathed in the lotion I gave,
I saw it from his gleaming skin.

My father sneered “The Greek is Weak!”
The Riff-Raff jeered at his fear,
And the Argonauts resembled, schoolboys that trembled,
At a teacher that pulled their ears.

Then Jason took a running jump
Over the fence – he was in.
The bulls snorted, they would not be thwarted,
Let the battle begin.

Achilles himself could not match that dash,
You should have seen the strength of the boy
He broke the bulls in, he yoked them in.
He fought like a hero of Troy.

But it was me of course, who was the cause of his force,
The people had no notion,
That the king’s daughter had brought to Jason
Strength in a magic potion.

It was an amazing sight to see the bulls plough,
The black earth that knew no pity.
Their heavy hooves plodded the clods,
Beneath the walls of the city.

Then Jason took a tooth, and threw it in the groove
It came from the mouth of a beast.
The beast that guarded the golden fleece
The dragon beast of the East.

And another he sowed, in the earth’s fold
And another sunk into the ground.
And straight up they grew, into a deathly crew
The skeletons stood all around.

The bones of the attackers, clattered and spattered,
No doubt they were dealing in death.
The horror he fought like a hero ought,
With all the breath he had left.

And at last he cast a glance at my eyes
And he recalled the advice I had given.
He bended low to pick up a stone
And hurled it at the bulls he had driven.

And in a rage they engaged the army of death
The bulls tore them apart.
The skeleton men, were scattered again
All by the cunning of my art !

Now Jason claimed, from the king who had disdained him,
The prize of the Golden Fleece.
And the Argonauts shouted, “The enemy’s routed
We Claim the Fleece for Greece !”

But loosing is for losers, not for my Dad,
The king would not make peace.
“This upstart Greek has a terrible cheek,
“To claim the fleece for Greece.”

And his guards thundered, and seeing they were outnumbered,
The Argonauts slipped back to their boat
And the king of Colchis kissed by the gods
Had shamed our name by his gloat.

And full of indignation at the shame of our nation
To my father now I lied.
“I have an ache in my head, I am returning to bed.”
And my lie was justified.

Then stealing stealthily down to the sea
By the path I knew as a child,
I found the forbidden boat hidden
In a place that was dark and wild.

And having hastened to Jason, I told him my plan.
He said “The Dragon’s Horrific.”
Never mind, I said, I’ll put him to bed,
With my drugs that are soporific.

My sleepy pharmacy I’ll slip into the stream.
It is a powerful draught
And when the dragon drinks, into sleep he sinks
I’m a witch who knows her craft.

And now at last, he took me in his arms,
And this is what he said,

“Medea, my dear, you have no peer,
Back in Greece we shall wed.”

“Sail with me, across the wine dark sea,
In my ship as swift as a thought.
By the Lady of Olympus, Hera the Lovely
I’ll marry you like I ought.”

I was so naive, I was ready to believe
How I ached with fever !
A man like this a woman would kiss,
And never leave her.

What a fool, I was, to lose my cool ,
And to be taken in by lies
A whirling, swirling, girly girl.
The sort I despise.

And so that night, but the treacherous moon
I drugged the dragon’s spring.
And I put to bed, his terrible head,
That snorted with fiery rings.

And past those paws with fearsome claws,
Past the beast that slept
My beautiful boy, played my ploy,
And into the cave he crept.

Who dares take the prize from Ares?
Who dares steal the fleece?
Only an upstart Greek would seek,
To claim the fleece for Greece.

Oh how the gold glittered, Oh how it shone !
Like a star of heavenly light.
That woolly wonder of the Eastern world
Lit up the darkened night.

Like far off Pharos, the lighthouse of Egypt
It was a fiery illumination
But it was a pity, that seen from the city,
It caused a sensation.

Aeetes, my father, the king of Colchis,
Told his trumpets to blare
And they manned the boats, every ship that could float,
And revenge they did swear.

For it was not just the fleece, that the pirates claimed for Greece
But the daughter of the king they took.
And my father faced, a shameful disgrace,
An insult he would never brook.

And the Argonauts rowed, but their ship was slowed
By the weight of the gold within.
For Argo carried, the war god’s cargo
The fleece that glittered like sin.

And the Georgian navy flew across the waves
Like the steeds of the Sea-God Poseidon
And I must find a plan, as best I can,
I knew an island that we could hide on.

And my cunning plot, I revealed to Jason
But I held back from him my worst
We set a trap, an ambush to attack
The soldiers that landed first.

And the first was no other, than my own dear brother
I shot him with a golden cross bow.
And with gory glee, we threw his body in the sea
And swiftly away we did row.

Now if my father had a heart, it was hard to see,
But he stopped to pick up his heir.
And in this way, his chase was delayed
In war what plot is not fair?

And we crossed the seas, to the island of my aunt
The wondrous witch called Circe
And I begged her for the spell, which she knew well
To make my father show mercy.

And seeing her niece plead on her knees
This is what Circe said.
“You, a woman, have given all to a man
And yet, you are not even wed?”

“Jason my boy, become a man
Now do not falter.
You have lit the fire, of a fine woman’s desire
Marry my niece on this alter”.

And now at last, with eyes downcast
The liar spoke the truth.
“Yes it’s true that I swore, but that was before
I had seen the awful proof.”

“This lady’s no mere witch, she’s a frightful witch
She cut up her brother with a knife.
My life she saved, but her family she betrayed,
Her soul with sin is rife.”
“Do I deserve this harridan harpy?
Zeus ! How she carries on
Such curses she utters, the words of the gutter
Should I marry such a one?”

“Yes, I betrayed, but what a price I paid !
Do you not see how I feel?
All my sinning gave us a beginning
In blood our love we sealed.”

“Zeus she’s mad, I never asked her to be bad !”
“How can you say that you liar?
You were obsessed by that Fleece, you wanted it for Greece,
And for you I went through fire.”

Now this domestic fight, could have carried on all night
But Circe settled it soon
“Listen my dears, Aeetes’ army is near
Their ships lie in the lagoon.”

“So see here Jason, you pathetic man,
Medea saved your life.
If you need my spell, that works magic well
Make my niece your wife.”

And Jason in his woe, trembled like a doe
He knew is number was up
A woman must marry him, or an army would harry him.
We both drank from the wedding cup

And later that day the army lost its way
Circe’s spell worked well.
And now I was a queen, I was happier than I had ever been
One day in his palace I would dwell.

And Circe sent us sailing across the sea
With a fair wind to Greece
And Jason brought me, his beautiful trophy
And soon forgot the fleece.

I forgot my malice, when I lived in his palace,
I gave him some wonderful kids.
I never grew frumpy, but at times I was grumpy
And said what custom forbids.

I let people know, that I was the real show
I said more than I ought.
I let slip the story, of my part in his glory
Of how the fleece was brought.

And like a true man, Jason began
To allow his eyes to wander
And soon he found, a princess who was bound
To make his heart grow fonder.

And when I gave him a piece of my mind
He had no need for force.
The court granted his escape from me
It was divorce of course.

He gave my name, a scandalous fame
Then there was that dreadful drama.
As for the rest, don’t believe the press.
By then I had grown much calmer.

There’s no need to believe Euripides,
Literature is all lies.
Yes, his play is called Medea, a name men should fear,
But revenge comes in many a guise.

The gods sent me, a chariot with wings
And I flew away from Greece.
To the land of Colchis, kissed by the gods,
And with me I took the fleece.

And that was the fourth and final part of Jason and Medea written for Storynory by Bertie, and read by Richard Scott, and me, Natasha Gostwick. Our production features the Music of Gabriella Burnell and the illustrations of Nick Hayes. Do drop by at Storynory.com for the full effect !

We do hope that you have enjoyed our version of this ancient story. There are more Greek myths, and many more audio stories from all over the world, at Storynory.com, so do make full use of this resource in your schools and homes !

For now from me Natasha, and from me Richard, Goodbye

read by Natasha in voice of Medea – but with bits later on by Richard who will speak Jason’s voice when he argues with Medea.

Summary :

Jason has super-human strength from the magic lotion given to him by Medea. He yokes the bulls and sews the field of Ares. He sows the dragon’s teeth into the earth. Skeleton men spring up from the earth to fight him, but he throws a stone at the bulls and they charge and scatter the skeletons.

Jason claims the fleece from Aeetes. Aeetes refuses. Medea slips down to the boats and tells Jason that she will drug the dragon that guards the fleece. Jason promises to take her back to Greece and marry her. She puts the dragon to sleep and Jason steals the fleece from the dragon’s cave. Medea and the Argonauts sail away but the shining fleece lights up the sky. Aeetes sees it and his navy chases the Argo. Jason and Medea stop at an island where they ambush Aeetes son and kill him. They throw his body in the sea and Aeetes is held up while he picks up the body.

They sail to the island of Medea’s aunt, the witch Circe. They ask her for a spell to put off the persuing army. Circe will only grant the spell if Jason will marry Medea. Jason says that he does not want to marry a woman who would murder her own brother. They start to argue. But when Aeetes army is near he gives in and marries her.

They return to Greece and Medea gives him two children. Jason divorces her and marries another woman. Medea tells us that we should not believe the playwright Euripides who told lies about her. She did take her revenge but it was not like they said in the drama. She flew back to Colchis in a magic Chariot and took the fleece with her.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/15/jason-and-medea-part-four-the-escape/feed/ 38 http://storynory.com/2012/04/09/upstart-greek/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/09/upstart-greek/#comments Mon, 09 Apr 2012 10:07:37 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9128 Download Audio


An uptempo, amusing song about Jason and the Golden Fleece. We hope you will find this fun ! The words are a bit of a tongue-twister.

Composed and Sung by Gabriella Burnel
Guitar and Base by Drew Wynen
Drums by Jayesh Vadukul
Words by Bertie
Engineer Felipe Elcanja
Recorded at Forward Motion Studios with thanks to Jas
Picture by Nick Hayes


A young upstart Greek has come to seek,
The Gorgeous Golden Fleece.
He has a cheek, that Greek, to come and seek
The fleece of gold for Greece.

Is this scrawny boy to lead,
A gang of hardened heroes?
Will he hold his nerve, and never swerve
When the clanging fear grows?

A hero’s quest, he wanted best,
Glory for his name.
He had a cheek, that Greek, to come and seek
The Georgian Fleece of fame.

Away across the blackest sea
To a gorgeous, wild state,
With hills of riches women that are witches,
Dragons guard that the gate.

A prince he is, supposedly.
He looks like a dope.
He has a cheek, that Greek, to come and seek
On a quest that has no hope.

Yes, Georgia, Colchis, what you will
It stands by the sea that’s black
Many assaulted its citadel vaulted,
But no one ever came back.”

A young upstart Greek has come to seek,
The Gorgeous Golden Fleece.
He has a cheek, that Greek, to come and seek
The fleece of gold for Greece.

Jason speaks with manly voice,
Perhaps he’s putting it on.
No war with Georgia, war with no one,
War’s not why he has come.

A young upstart Greek has come to seek,
The Gorgeous Golden Fleece.
He has a cheek, that Greek, to come and seek
The fleece of gold for Greece.

A young upstart Greek has come to seek,
The Gorgeous Golden Fleece.
He has a cheek, that Greek, to come and seek
The fleece of gold for Greece

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/09/upstart-greek/feed/ 49 http://storynory.com/2012/04/08/happy-easter-activity-easter-egg-making/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/08/happy-easter-activity-easter-egg-making/#comments Sun, 08 Apr 2012 22:51:31 +0000 Natasha http://storynory.com/?p=9090

Dear Listeners,

Happy Easter!!!

I hope you had nice Easter day. There can be lots more Easter fun to come..
Why not tell us how you received your easter eggs? Did you have to search for them with a treasure hunt? or were you given them in a special way? Maybe secretly the Easter Bunny left some for you…. Drop a comment on Storynory and let us know.

And here is a fun Activity you can try this Easter time.It involves painting a real egg! Follow these simple steps to create your own special Easter Faberge Egg.

Firstly Find the following materials:
A Paint Brush, Paints, A Jar for some Water.

1.Scoop out a hard-boiled egg,so you just have the shell
2.Paint on a base layer on top of the egg. And wait for it to dry
3.Choose a pattern or design and paint this on top. Criss cross or poker dot work well.
4.Use a glazing agent to brush over the paint to have your egg shine nicely.
Give it as a present or put it on a shelf!

You might like to try this activity whilst listening to Bertie and The Faberge Egg. And there other Easter stories you can enjoy listening to including The Missing Bunny. Tick Tock Turkey and the Chocolate Tree.

Have a great Easter!
Bye Bye
N *

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/08/happy-easter-activity-easter-egg-making/feed/ 2 http://storynory.com/2012/04/08/jason-and-medea-part-three-princess-medea/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/08/jason-and-medea-part-three-princess-medea/#comments Sun, 08 Apr 2012 22:43:32 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9098 Download Audio





Pictures for Storynory by Nick Hayes, click to enlarge.

Our story is taken up by Princess Medea. Jason and the Argonauts have arrived in her father’s kingdom of Colchis. They have come to take the fabulous Golden Fleece back to Greece – something her father is not happy about. Medea is in love with Jason and decides to help him with her magic.

Read by Natasha Gostwick.
Pictures by Nick Hayes.
Music by Gabriella Burnel.
Words by Bertie.


Jason and Medea, The Story of the Golden Fleece, told in verse in four parts, by Storynory.
Part Three : Princess Medea.

It is a youthful traveller
Only just a man
So pretty, so witty, it is a pity
I can’t quite understand,

What this feeling inside me is
My pulse begins to race.
I’m so aware that I do not dare
To look straight into his face.

And he was barely more than a boy
But oh boy what a boy.
His dark eyes, lit by lies,
And a look that was coy.

Oh, I quite forgot: me
My name is Medea.
A student in the art, of wild witchcraft
My name men should fear.

I’m rich, I’m smart, I’m full of art,
And this is what I say.
I might be seventeen, but I know what I mean
I will have my way.

My father’s name is Aeetes
He’s king around these parts.
This land of Colchis is kissed by the gods
Wine, women, arts.

A fog from the gods wrapped our city.
And Jason just appeared.
A noble man, from a long-lived clan,
Though the way he appeared was weird.

And Heaven must have helped him then,
My guess: a goddess.
It might have been Aphrodite I think
She is never modest.

This young upstart Greek, had come to seek,
My father’s Golden Fleece.
He had a cheek, that Greek, to come and seek
The fleece of gold for Greece.

Then my dad, though his rule is to be cruel
Invited Jason in.
And a banquet put on, for the guest who had come
to take from him.

Jason spoke with a low manly voice,
Perhaps he was putting it on.
No war with Georgia, No war with no one,
War was not why he had come.

Perhaps some service he could perform
Could the king suggest a quest?
And the price that was nice was the fleece for Greece
The Argo would bring it back West.

And turning to me, father spoke softly,
“This is men’s table talk.
Medea, my dear, your grow bored, I fear
I suggest you take a walk.”

And so I suppose, I stretched and rose,
And slipped out silkily.
For I could hear, from a place that was near
Up on the minstrel balcony.

And my father drank wine and spoke his mind,
“I suppose you’ve heard of Troy
Warriors from Greece, don’t come East in peace
I have reason to fear you my boy.”

And Jason looked hurt, like a friendship had burst
And he seemed like a little boy
“Don’t speak to me, of that cruel history,
No need to talk of Troy.”

And my father softened, or so it seemed.
I knew his hard heart by now:
“My boy you have shoulders that could easily move boulders,
Like an ox that pulls a plough.”

“This is the task that I ask, not hard.
I have a field outside the city.
Take these dragon’s teeth, and sow them beneath,
The earth that’s dark and gritty.”

And my young pretty sap, did not run into this trap
He pondered and he thought:
“Why would he ask a task not hard
For a fleece that could not be bought? “

The craft he couldn’t see, and at last he agreed,
Little did he know,
That a dead army of men, would grow up again
As soon as be began to sow.

And those skeleton men, would fight again
See the dead cannot be killed !
For the god of war, long, long before,
This terrible curse had willed.

And a fearful fact that he did not know
Those fields were full of toil.
No harmless oxen plod Ares’ farm
But bulls must plough the soil.

And then my boy hero stood up to go,
Perfect to my eyes.
The shoulders of a man, the grace of a girl
He was doomed by my father’s lies.

And when he was well away from the men,
My father laughed and said:
The bulls will destroy that precocious boy.
And as soon as he is safely dead.

We shall shove a great rock from a high hill top,
And smash his ship to bits.
And never more, shall pirates plague our shore,
Where the game is double or quits.

Need I say, that in tears and dismay
I tore my hair and my cheeks?
My fingers were red where my face had bled
I was hot, I was cold, I was weak.

For in my heart, I knew, my father was cruel,
He never went back on a threat.
Still worse, he knew no mercy,
Not once had he relented yet.

That night I dreamed of frightful scenes,
It was I that yoked the bull.
It was I that sowed the teeth beneath
The earth so fearful.

When the impossible feat was neatly completed
I turned to my father and said:
“Now give the fleece of gold to Greece,
And Jason the boy I’ll wed.”

By daughter betrayed, father raged
And father flew at me.
There’s nothing so bad, that brings out the mad
As to break with family.

Then I woke in a sweat, the sheets were wet,
And my temperature as high as a kite.
I crept out of bed into the cool corridor.
And there I caught a fright.

For standing in front of me, was him you see,
Yes, the boy, Jason.
I refused his embrace, I stung his face,
And back into my room did hasten.

Then he called to me, knocking softly on my door
In my heart I hoped that he would.
“Medea, my dear, no need for fear,
I give my word to be good.”

I opened up slowly, and there in front of me
He stood. We were like two trees.
That grow side by side, open their arms wide,
And sway together in the breeze.

We did not touch, though the feeling was such
That I will never forget.
Our souls surged, our minds merged,
And still we hadn’t touched yet.

Nothing to say. He pulled himself away,
Like he was leaving home for ever.
Then taking his chance, he gave me a glance,
And I knew we had to be together.

Now not only have I looks, I’m learned in books,
I know my potions and lotions,
There’s no harm I see in pharmacy,
My fingers put magic in motion.

I lit the fire that burned like desire,
And stirred my ingredients in.
There’s power in my powder, and verve in my herbs.
With a flash my fun begins.

Then stealing stealthily down to the sea,
By the path I knew as a child
I found the forbidden boat hidden
In a place that was dark and wild.

It was the Argo alright, a magnificent sight,
As long as it was strong.
And the men slept around on the stony ground,
As I carefully crept on.

My hero now, sat by the prow
My Jason did not sleep
A lotion I gave him, and told him to bathe in it
That lotion would be his safe-keep.

And that was the third part of Jason and Medea told by me, Natasha Gostwick, and written for Storynory by Bertie. I’ll be back soon with the fourth and final part in which we will find out if Jason really does manage to get the Golden fleece for Greece ! And our production of Jason and Medea has fantastic music by Gabriella Burnell and stunning illustrations by Nick Hayes so drop by at Storynory.com for the whole effect.

For now, from me, Natasha Bye Bye.

This part read by Natasha in voice of Medea. Medea is daughter of Aeetes, the cruel king of Colchis, and the owner of the Golden Fleece.

It starts off with the same line as part one “It is a youthful traveller” which is a play on “It is an Ancient Mariner”. Medea talks of her infatuation for Jason, talks of her beauty and her strong will, and reveals that she is a witch. He appeared at their palace out of a mist. Her father invited him to dinner, and he asked for the Golden Fleece offering to perform a quest for it. Her father asked him to sow a field with dragon’s teeth. He did not say that the field must be sewed with bulls, and that they teeth would grow up into a terrible army of skeleton men. Medea dreams that she performed the task herself, and her father was furious with her. She wakes up and goes out into the corridor where she meets Jason. They do not touch but are obviously in love with each other. She follows him down to his ship, and gives him a magic potion to help him form the task.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/08/jason-and-medea-part-three-princess-medea/feed/ 35 http://storynory.com/2012/04/01/row-on/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/01/row-on/#comments Sun, 01 Apr 2012 20:59:53 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9053 Download Audio



A rowing song for our Jason and Medea series.

We are not only telling the story of Jason and Medea in verse, but in song too ! We hope you enjoy these soaring vocals and bluesy guitar. We have two more songs to come, so listen out for those.

Composed and Sung by Gabriella Burnel
Drums and inspiration by Jayesh Vadukul
Guitar and Base by Drew Wynen
Words by Bertie
Engineer Felipe Elcanja
Recorded at Forward Motion Studios with thanks to Jas
Picture by Nick Hayes


They rowed across the deep black sea
A never ending stretch.
They heaved and hoe-ed, and on they rowed
For the fleece they need must fetch

And Orpheus strummed his sweet sweet lyre
And sung out his sweet honeyed voice,
Row on boys, row on boys, don’t you slack
Row on boys, row on boys, there’s no going back
We surf the sea to our destiny
Keep right on track !

They rowed across the deep black sea
A never ending stretch.
They heaved and hoe-ed, and on they rowed
For the fleece they need must fetch

And when at night, they slept at their seats,
Heracles rowed on.
He would have rowed more, but he broke his oar,
Snap! and it was gone.

And Orpheus strummed his sweet sweet lyre
And sung out his sweet honeyed voice,
Row on boys, row on boys don’t you slack
Row on boys, row on boys, there’s no going back

We surf the sea to our destiny

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/01/row-on/feed/ 39 http://storynory.com/2012/04/01/jason-and-medea-part-two-the-voyage-to-colchis/ http://storynory.com/2012/04/01/jason-and-medea-part-two-the-voyage-to-colchis/#comments Sun, 01 Apr 2012 20:25:23 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=9040 Download Audio





Illustrations for Storynory by Nick Hayes. Click to enlarge.

Jason and the Argonauts travel the seas on their way to Colchis to fetch the Golden fleece. On one stop along the way, they meet Amycus, the inhospitable king, who challenges their strongest hero to a boxing contest. On another stop they meet a prophet to is tortured by Harpes for the crime of telling the future too accurately.

Read by Richard Scott
Illustrated by Nick Hayes
Written by Bertie
With the music of Gabriella Burnel.


Jason and Medea, The Story of the Golden Fleece, told in verse in four parts, by Storynory.
Part Two : The Voyage to Colchis.

They rowed across the deep black sea
A never ending stretch.
They heaved and hoe-ed, and on they rowed
For the fleece they needs must fetch

And as they rowed, over them watched,
Poseidon the god of the sea
He watched them row, and he watched them go
To reach their destiny.

Wherever they touched the land, the sparkling sand
They jumped on the beach with glee.
Those that met them, clothed and fed them
with Hospitality.

Save one. They called him Amycus,
The inhospitable king.
He knew no love, save the boxing glove,
He loved to fight in the ring.

“Choose a man”, he said, the best you can,
To take me on, I insist.
Your only right is to put up a fight
My guests are kissed with a fist.

His words of welcome irked them sorely,
Oh for Heracles.
He had a knuckle, that made men buckle
And crouch down on bended knees.

But Heracles was left well behind
And Polydeuces stepped forth.
He was an Argonaut, who many fights had fought,
He snarled his teeth with wrath.

The king exchanged a stare for a snarl
Like a cornered lion
He gazed at him, and blazed at him,
and held up his fists of iron.

Daunting gauntlets, Amycus wore,
That covered his fighting fists.
His second helped him pull them on
And tied them around his wrists.

The Argonaut’s man held steady and ready
And listened as Amycus spoke
“I’ll put blood on your cheek, and knock you to next week
Your cloak with red I’ll soak. ”

Polydeuces nodded his acknowledgment,
And so begun the fight.
He danced on his toes and dodged the blows
And deflected his opponent’s might.

But Amycus landed some heavy hits,
His fists tore through the air.
Teeth clattered, and ribs shattered.
The fight was brutal but fair.

But no fool was our hero Polydeuces
He knew how to measure a man.
He observed and learned the pattern of the fight,
And soon he had a plan.

Amycus acted more with anger than skill
In rage did he attack him.
He fell into a trap
. He left a gap
And our hero whacked him.

Polydeuces hit with the force of a thunderbolt
It was a skull shattering blow
There was a terrible crack, a deadly attack
He laid his opponent low.

All round there was awe and roars from the crowd.
And outloud Jason said:
Your king is down. He’s bust his crown.
Your king – he is dead.

But the people of that place bore no grace
They knew not how to lose.
Their king had died. The women cried.
And then, there were jeers and boos.

Above the roar, a voice spoke out loud:
“The killer of the king must die”
With no more words, they drew their swords
And at him they did fly.

But the Argonauts stepped forth
A line of prickly tips.
They fiercely fought back, and repelled the attack,
And more came out from the ships.

With shields and spears, and cries and cheers,
They fell upon the foe.
They cut and thrust and bones did bust
No mercy did they show.

For it is the law of Zeus, Lord of the gods,
Who rules form East to West.
Wherever you live, a warm welcome you must give
For a stranger is a guest.
…..

The heroes returned to their trustworthy ship
And sailed the Bosporus straight
A meandering sea, like a crooked knee,
That leads them to their fate.

When under their toes, the waters rose,
Choppy was not the word.
Propelled from Hell, a wave did swell,
And flung them like a bird.

The heroes yelled, and tightly held,
To the rim of their boat.
Up and down they dived, in fear for their lives,
And only just afloat.

When at last they hit the land with a thud,
To the coast of Bethynia they had come
They were glad to be here, for near lived a seer
The prophetic one.

Phineas the Bethynian, was frightfully thin,
His gift was a curse.
He could clearly see, your far off destiny,
For better or for worse.

But he was at odds, with the vengeful gods
And a cruel crazy Zeus,
Cut him down to size, and blinded his eyes
And harpies he let loose.

Now harpies harp on, they are terrible birds,
They are furies with fearsome claws,
They have women’s heads, and women’s breasts,
And they grab food from your jaws.

And every time Phineas tried to eat,
A harpy dove down from the sky.
It snatched the food, and flew off to its brood,
With squawk and a terrible cry.

“Oh Argonauts, I expected you ,
Bravest of the Greeks
You have come to me, for my prophesy
And wait for me to speak.”

“But before I tell, your future well,
Listen to my present.
The gods have meant to torment me
And this terrible torture sent.”

“Oh to you I pray, chase those fiends away
Those harrowing harpies kill me.
Give me your word, you’ll banish those birds
And your future told will be. ”

Now the Borriad twins, the sons of the wind,
Stepped forth and said “no fuss.
If it’s speed you need, we are swift indeed,
They won’t get away from us”.

They hide in a cleft of a rock to the left,
Of the old man and his dinner.
And when the harpies appear, to torment the seer,
And to make the prophet thinner,

The twins jump out, the birds to clout,
And chase them over the sand.
And up they fly, to their nests in the sky
For cliffs are safer than land.

But the terrible twins, are set to win
There are no buts or ifs.
They climb with ease, like cats up trees,
And scale the difficult cliffs.

The nests they reach, and the harpies screech,
And the boys attack with their knives
But Juno sent word, to save the birds,
And spare them their terrible lives.

A boy with wings, the message brings
To stave off from the fight.
“Twins of the wind, hold back from sin,
What you do is not right!”

“These birds are absurd, but they fulfil the word,
Of Zeus the almighty Lord.
Man cannot understand, his future in hand,
Or The gods would be frightfully bored.”

“Phineas tells, the future too well.
There’s a devil in his detail.
If he keeps it vague, we’ll rid his plague,
And again you may set sail.”

“For the best prophesy is ambiguity
Nothing is ever clear,
And horoscopes are meant for dopes
And play on hope and fear.”

And the twins climbed down, and returned to ground
And to Phineas this message brought.
And he listed well, and the future did tell
So vague as to be worth naught.

And so the sailors sailed on to their destiny
That was dark as a moonless night.
Through the clanging cliffs and the swirling pool
To the sea that is black and bright.

And at last they came, to the realm of Aeetes
He was king around those parts.
That land of Colchis, kissed by the gods,
With wine, women, arts.

But Jason pondered, how far they had wandered,
His head upon his chin.
His thoughts of gloom, his visions of doom
The frightful fix they were in.

For he was never a man with a ready plan.
And now he was frightfully vexed.
His head full of fear, and he had no idea.
Exactly what they should do next.

And that was the second part of Jason and Medea, written for Storynory by Bertie, and read by me Richard Scott. In the next part, Natasha takes over in the voice of the Georgian Princess and witch, Medea. Our production of Jason and Medea is accompanied by the Music of Gabriella Burnell and the illustrations of Nick Hayes. For now, from me, Richard Scott,

Good Bye.

Summary: Jason and the Argonauts stop at the Island of King Amycus, who challenges all visitors to a boxing match. Polydeuces takes him on and kills him in the boxing ring. Amycus’s army attack the Argonauts, the heroes fight back and sack their city.

A huge wave carries them up the Bosphorus, and they land in Bethynia. There they meet Phineas the seer who is tormented by Harpes. These birds (with women’s heads and breast) snatch food from his mouth so he is always hungry. The Argonauts help him. The Borread twins, the sons of the wind, chase the Harpes up the cliffs. Juno sends a messenger to tell them not to kill the Harpes. Phineas’s sin was to tell the future to well. If he keeps it vague, the Harpes will leave him alone. Phineas gives them a useless prophecy. They sail on and reach Colchis. Jason is not sure what to do next.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/04/01/jason-and-medea-part-two-the-voyage-to-colchis/feed/ 20 http://storynory.com/2012/03/28/jason-and-medea-part-one-the-voyage-begins/ http://storynory.com/2012/03/28/jason-and-medea-part-one-the-voyage-begins/#comments Wed, 28 Mar 2012 10:30:17 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=8987 Download Audio









Pictures by Nick Hayes for Storynory. Click to Enlarge.

We begin our four part “epic” poem written in verse by Bertie for Storynory.

You may know this famous story by other titles including Jason and the Golden Fleece and Jason and the Argonauts. We have chosen to call it “Jason and Medea” to emphasis the parts of the hero and the heroine, who are both interesting characters. It tells the tale of how Jason sailed from Greece on a quest to the land of Colchis which is now known as Georgia (South of Russia, North of Turkey, West of Armenia, on the Black Sea). He took with him a gang of “hardened heros” including the famous strongman, Heracles, who features in Part One. His goal was to bring back the fabulous Golden Fleece – but he must contend with fierce dragons and beautiful witches.

The poem will be in four parts, and there are three songs to go with it. There are 12 specially commissioned pictures. This part and part two is beautifully narrated by Richard Scott. Parts three and four will be read by Natasha in the voice of Medea.

The story if very loosely based on / inspired by The Argonautica by Apollonius of Rhodes.

Read by Richard Scott.
Pictures by Nick Hayes.
Written by Bertie.
Music by Gabriella Burnel.

Jason and Medea, The Story of the Golden Fleece, told in verse in four parts, by Storynory.
Part One : The Voyage Begins.

It is a youthful traveller
Only just a man
A single sandal upon one foot,
He has not more than

Twenty years spent upon earth,
“My Shoe”, he says, “I lost.
Stolen by the winter stream,
Snatched, as I crossed.”

And here, to Iolcus, he has tramped,
His cloak is tattered and torn.
And Pelias, the king, he looked at his foot
And felt utterly forlorn.

“Come in my boy, sit down, your name?”
“I’m Jason”, he replied,
The king he looked, again, at that foot
And felt that he had died.

For he had heard that his doom would be dealt
By just such a man
A single sandal upon one foot
That was destiny’s plan.

“Away, I must send him, he thought to himself
Far over the wine dark sea
He can go on a quest, to prove he is best
To fetch his boyhood glory.”

“Away across the blackest sea
To a gorgeous, wild state,
With mountains of riches, and women that are witches,
Where dragons guard the gate”.

“Yes, Georgia, Colchis, call it what you will
It stands by the sea that is black
Many have assaulted, its citadel vaulted,
But not one has ever come back.”

“A prince he is, supposedly.
He looks somewhat a dope
I think it’s a plan, for just such a man,
A quest that has no hope.”

But Jason scrubbed up rather well
Bathed and clothed he looked better.
He had long dark locks, and a hero’s looks,
And was quite the trend setter.

A hero’s quest, was what he wanted best,
To add glory to his name.
He would not cease, until he had the fleece,
The Georgian Fleece of fame.

For in a cave in Colchis there hung
The golden, shimmering fleece,
The Georgian garment of great renown
Coveted by all of Greece.

Once worn by a living creature,
A ram with golden wings
Phrixos flew there from Greece on the ram.
And gave it to the king.

Get it, said Pelias, Bring it to me
And Jason gladly agreed.
Gold turned him cold, but fame was his flame
He suffered not from greed.

“I am a man to manage a challenge,”
He said boldly in the court.
Who will join me on this quest
A journey, danger fraught?”

And forth came heroes, real heroes,
Men who had sailed the seas
Polydeuces, Castor, Idmon and last,
Not least, Heracles.

And Argos, the oldest, greatest ship maker,
He set to work with his saw.
He made them the strongest, fleetest, ship
Like none that had sailed before.

Then gathered the gang, a hero to the man.
They named their ship the Argo.
And the crew they called, the Argonauts,
And the Fleece was to be their cargo.

They went down to the shore, gave an ox to the gods
Then sat on the beach, and drank wine.
The men tell tales, but Jason he ails,
Troubles on his mind.

And Idas of Arene, an irksome fellow
Though handy in a fight
Saw Jason brood, and guessed his mood,
“He’s a coward, alright”.

“Is this scrawny boy to lead,
A gang of hardened heroes?
Will he hold his nerve, and never swerve
When the clanging fear grows?”

“See here, a hero, Herakles.
Now this is a man.
He is more than a man, he makes war
Like a mighty entire clan.”

“He caries a club, his foes to drub,
He smashes, and trashes them in.
He loves to kill, it gives him a thrill
His heart, as black as sin”.

“When he was small, he was sent a gift,
A sinuous, venomous snake.
To slither in, and silence him,
But he did take

That snake, and shake and break it,
And fling it to the floor.
You know his mother’s milk, was creamy silk
She was a goddess, for sure. ”

“So Herakles, choose him, he’s the one
To lead us across the sea.”
“- No No”, he said, hanging his head,
Struck down by modesty.

The others told Idas to hold his tongue
And then they took up the boat
And shouting with glee, they shoved it to sea,
And soon they were fast afloat.

They sat down at the benches, and took their oars,
And mid all sat Heracles.
They heaved and hoe-ed, and on they rowed
Gliding over the seas.

And next to Heracles sat Hylas,
His one and only friend.
The golden one, he loved a liked son
To the end he would defend.

And Poseidon the god of the oceans
Followed them over the surf.
And his seven steeds, that galloped the seas.
Strained for all they were worth.

They rowed across the deep black sea
A never ending stretch.
They heaved and hoe-ed, and on they rowed
The Fleece for Greece they’ll fetch!

And when at night, they slept at their seats,
Heracles rowed on.
He would have rowed more, but he broke his oar,
Snap! and it was gone.

When rosy-fingered dawn awoke,
They glided toward the land
No longer afloat, they jumped over the boat,
And warmed their toes in the sand

Heracles was in need of an oar
A tree would suit his grip,
To Hylas he said, fetch water instead
My thirst could do with a sip.

At first the friends walked together
The ambled along light hearted.
Tracks on the beach, the woods they did reach,
And in the woods they parted.

Hylas headed for the sacred spring
But he did not go unseen.
The nymphs along route, thought he looked cute
One, was the woodland queen.

And when he reached the gushing water.
He knelt down to fill his urn.
A nymph saw his face, she longed to embrace,
And her little heart did burn.

She entwined her arm around his neck,
And kissed him in full wonder.
She entwined her arm, she meant no harm,
But she pulled him under.

Did Hylas drown? It’s hard to say
He glugged beneath the water
The king of the spring, welcomed him in,
And married him to his daughter.

But Heracles, he had lost his friend
He could not find him anywhere,
The strongest man, now began
To surrender to despair.

He cried, he wailed, he felt he had failed
He didn’t know what to do
The incredible hulk has muscles that bulk,
But his heart is broken in two.

And Jason waits by the bulk of the boat.
He waits and waits for the hulk.
But he is gone. He wanders on.
Now he’s the incredible sulk.

And Jason waits by the bulk of the boat
His oar at his side.
To sail away. Or to stay.
He is unable to decide.

And Polydeuces puts his hand on his shoulder
“This is no time to fret.”
Says the hero, “It’s time to go.
On the fleece our sight must set.”

So Jason summons all his Argonauts.
He calls each man by name.
“Push down the boat, and on we float,
To Colchis and our fame.”

They pull at the oars, it’s harder than before,
They plough the sea wearily.
As they heave through the haze, all their eyes gaze
On the middle bench that is empty.

And Telamon, of the strong spear, speaks up:
“It’s not hard to see your mind.
Jason, my lad, you were only too glad
To leave the real hero behind.”

There is no reply. Only tears in his eye.
Then the sea stirs deeply.
The Argo rocks. The Argonauts are in shock.
Now the waves rise steeply.

And before them shaking the prow of the boat
A god has risen from the deep.
his name. His tongue is a flame.
The men began to weep.

“On whose authority did you take with you,
Heracles, I ask?
According to Zeus, he cannot be let loose,
Until he has done his twelfth task.”

“For 12 Herculean labours must he do
And back to Argos he has gone
Do not doubt him, you must go without him.
To take him with you was wrong.”

And then the water wrapped around him like a cloak,
He was gone and all was calm.
“Forgive me”, said Telamon, “for I was wrong.
Believe me, I meant no harm.”

And Jason nods and prudently speaks:
“Your words were cruel and hot.
But in the end, you spoke for a friend,
For gain you spoke not.”

“So I take it that you, are to a comrade true;
And I value you more for that
So get back to your oar, we are as before,
Together in this combat.”

And they raised the mast, and the wind blew fast,
Driving them across the sea
And all night long, the wind blew on
Until dawn, rose rosily.

And that was the first part of Jason and Medea read by me Richard Scott. In the next part I will be telling you about Jason and the Argonauts’ adventures on the way to Colchis to fetch the Golden Fleece. Later on you will hear the voice of Natasha as the Georgian princess and witch, Medea. And we have we have music by Gabriella Burnell. Also if you drop by at Storynory.com you can see the fantastic illustrations of the story by Nick Hayes. All in all this is a big production for Storynory so we do hope that you enjoy it !

Jason and Medea was written for Storynory by Bertie, very loosely following the Argonautica by Apollonius of Rodes.

For now, from me, Richard, Bye.

Summary: The youthful Jason arrives at the court of King Pelias wearing only one shoe. Pelias as been told that a man with one scandal will kill him. He sends Jason on an impossible quest to get the golden fleece from Colchis (modern Georgia). Jason collects a gang of heroes including Heracles and they set sail. Some of the heroes think that Heracles should be the leader. They land and Heracles friend Hylas is abducted by a water nymph. Heracles wanders off in grief. One hero says that Jason is glad to lose his rival. But a sea god rises out of the sea and says Heracles had to go to complete his labours. Jason forgives the insubordinate sailor.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/03/28/jason-and-medea-part-one-the-voyage-begins/feed/ 30 http://storynory.com/2012/03/20/brynhilde/ http://storynory.com/2012/03/20/brynhilde/#comments Tue, 20 Mar 2012 23:41:57 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=8957 Download the audio, Right Click Save As
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We have already met the Norse hero, Sigurd . After killing a dragon, he rode his horse through a ring of fire to discover a sleeping princess – a Valkyrie or War Maiden. Her name was Brynhilde. He woke her with a kiss – but was it happy ever after?

Read by Elizabeth Donnelly.
Adapted for Storynory by Charlotte Sebag-Montefiore.

Brynhilde

My story is long but what happened to me is the stuff of legends…and great music ! Someone called Richard Wagner put me in a famous opera cycle called The Ring.

Listen well, for what happened to me was my own fault – is it not always so? – and also the fault of sorcery and those who practise it.

I was once a beautiful warrior-maiden and a Valkyrie. I had long red-gold hair which fluttered behind me as I flew about in battles wearing a scarlet chain mail corset, with my shield and spear outstretched. As you know, war is about skill, courage, and chance. We Valkyries are that random element. As we ride through the fear, the chaos, and the dust of the battle, we enforce the will of Odin – ensuring who will live, and who will die, who will flee, and who will win the day and emerge the glorious conqueror.

But there was one time when I followed my heart. I saw Agnar, a handsome young warrior about to enter a vicious fray. Although I was a Valkyrie, and it was my job to realise the gods’ wishes of who lived and who died, I had a woman’s feelings and impulses. Like everyone I am a prisoner of who I am.

When Odin ruled that Agnar must die, I thought , “No, The other one will fall. I’ll see to that,” and a moment later, I turned the spear which had been heading towards Agnar’s chest towards his opponent, who fell to the ground and died with fearful groans.

Odin was not pleased. “You can’t do that, Brynhilde, – I told you to kill Agnar. That was my will.”

“Well it wasn’t mine,” I said. “Why should one so young have to die?”

“That’s not your business,” said Odin. “ I shall have to punish you. You will no longer be a Valkyrie, you will be an ordinary human woman, born to live, marry and die… But because you have been a Valkyrie, I will grant your wish that you shall not marry a coward, but a hero, a man without fear. I will place you within a Ring of Flames, and you will sleep until a hero rides through the fire to claim you for his bride.”

And so it was. Odin sent me to a castle on the summit of a remote mountain. All around this castle, there burned an eternal ring of flames. Inside I slept, and slept, until such time as my hero would come and rescue me.

Then one day it happened. I heard something in my dream. I opened one eye, and then the next. There was a smell of singed horsehair. I turned my head. A tall, broad-shouldered warrior was standing over me.

I stretched out my hand. He knelt down and took it in his own.

I must say, he was a nice-looking hero – some of them have so many scars it spoils their looks. We held hands fast – for the people of the North, this itself means much – and before long we kissed each other and plighted our troth : as we did this the Ring flamed ever higher as our sacred vows reached high into the Heavens….Soon, I thought – and I wanted it to be soon – we would be wed.

His name was Sigurd, and he said that he was the slayer of a dragon called Fafnir. He certainly sounded like a brave enough fellow.

“ You know that I am not like other men,” he said. “I rode my horse through the flames as others pass through the heather. But there are yet other tasks I must complete before I can return to claim you as my bride.”

Well you can imagine how I felt. After all those long years of dreams, my hero arrives for the briefest of meetings. One kiss and he was ready to be off.

“Take this,” said Sigurd, softly. “It is a magic Ring, named Andvaranaut.”

“I will wear it always,” I whispered. “ Now go, if go you must.” Sigurd kissed me one last time, , jumped on his horse, and gathered his reins before leaping once again through the terrible flames.

I now know that Sigurd left me to join the Burgundy Court. The Queen was Grimhild by name, and she was grim by nature. I will call her Queen Grim. She was a sorceress who wrought spells like herself, grim and evil. She wanted Sigurd to marry her daughter, Gudrun, who was pretty and silly enough, just a foolish girl. One night, at table during the feasting, the Queen herself served the wine. “Honoured guest,” she said to my Sigurd, “ your fame and renown reached our Court long ago, and I am proud to serve you myself. For you I shall pour from this pitcher from which only heroes may drink.” Sigurd,- who lacked my gift of second sight – took the goblet.

“Drink deep, Sigurd.”

Queen Grim held his eyes with a bold gaze. Sigurd drank the wine and Queen Grim smiled, for she knew that the goblet was bewitched: Sigurd forgot forever all he had held dear, me, his family and friends….and thus it was that my Sigurd was enchanted into losing all recollection of his promise to me. He felt that he was free to marry Princess Gudrun, and he did.

Now the Queen also had a son to marry off. His name was Prince Gunnar. One day she told him:

“I will find you a bride. A bride worthy of a hero, and a worthy mother of heroes. Brynhilde is her name. Take your best horse, and spurs, for you will need them, and ride as you have never ridden yet. You must cross a Ring of Flames. There you will find a bride who has flown at the side of Odin….I will tell you where to go”

Gunnar saddled his best horse, and did as his mother told him. But his horse would not pass through the Ring of Flames, and he had to return empty-handed to Court. That night at dinner he had his mother on one side, and Sigurd opposite him. “Where is your bride, oh my son?” said his mother. “My horse was faint-hearted and would not cross the flames,” Gunnar replied.

“Is that all? ” said Sigurd “You are my wife’s brother, – practically my blood-brother- take mine.”

This was a generous offer, for Sigurd loved his horse, and the two brothers-in-law embraced. Gunnar agreed to leave for the Ring of Flames the next day. Queen Grim smiled, “My boy,” she said, “We will feast when you return and I pray it will be your wedding feast.”

The next day Gunnar rode, but the horse was not used to him and was frisky. He lacked Sigurd’s firm hand and sure steady seat in the saddle. Much to Gunnar’s annoyance, the horse would not pass through the Flames, and again he had to return without me for his bride.

Back at Court, Gunnar was out of temper. “Come brother,” said Sigurd. “Don’t they say third time lucky? Let me try my luck, – I will ride for you, with your helmet, chain-mail and shield.”

Thus it was that my Sigurd returned for me, not for himself but for another. A second time he rode through the Ring of Flames. Again, I woke and saw my hero standing over me. “This time,” I thought, “It really is my happy ever after. Now he will take me in his arms, and we shall ride away to our fairytale wedding.” Oh how happy I was ! But not for long.

There was no look of love in Sigurd’s eyes. It was as if he had never seen me before. He came over all official.

“I have come to claim you for my brother-in-law, Prince, Gunnar of Burgundy,” he said.

I felt then that I had died. And yet my heart refused to stop beating. I was still breathing. He took his own ring from my finger and replaced it with Gunnar’s. I did not even protest. I was a ghost.

Then he raised me to his saddle, and away we sped through the flames and back to the Burgundy Court. There, I married Gunnar, and became a wife.

I revived, but I was not happy – how could I be happy with Gunnar when every day I saw my Sigurd with that Princess Gudrun? How could I stand to see another in my place? But for the witchery of Queen Grim, he would have been mine. What did that spoiled Princess Gudrun know of battles and the world? Had she flown at Odin’s side and lived the glorious life of a Valkyrie?

She was stupid enough to goad me.

“We two are sisters, now, are we not? But my Sigurd, slayer of Fafnir, is a hero known to all! And it was my husband, not yours, who rode through the Flames to fetch you.” She flashed her ring. Imagine what I felt when I saw Andvaranaut, the ring that Sigurd gave to me, on Gudrun’s finger! Could I bear this insult?

I will tell you that I could not bear it. My heart called for revenge!

Enraged, I taunted Gudrun: I told her that Sigurd had loved me before ever he had loved her. I told her that she was only with him, because of her wicked sorceress of a mother. Did I not tell her the truth?

Gudrun cried, but what did I care? Her brother, Gunnar, shouted and stormed, – he even cried for his mother, milksop that he was. But as Sigurd’s brother-in-law, he could not kill him. That was for another to do. And so for the honour of the family, Gunnar’s younger brother took it upon himself to kill Sigurd. One night, as my beloved warrior slept, the youngest of this shameful family crept into Sigurd’s chamber, and slew him in his sleep.

Gunnar grieved and wept. But my heart was numb, for I too was grieving, though I did not weep, and I turned away, saying nothing. If Gunnar had lost Sigurd, so too had I. By the day of the funeral, I wanted no part of a life at this accursed Court. Standing in front of Sigurd’s funeral pyre, I took a knife and plunged it in my grieving heart. As I felt the life departing from my weak body, I threw myself onto the fire. There we were consumed together in the eternal flames, that lifted our souls up together to the afterlife.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/03/20/brynhilde/feed/ 31 http://storynory.com/2012/03/12/sigurd-and-the-dragon/ http://storynory.com/2012/03/12/sigurd-and-the-dragon/#comments Mon, 12 Mar 2012 11:05:29 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=8796 Download the Audio, Right Click Save As
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Big things are expected of Prince Sigurd. His father died before he was born, but left him the pieces of a hero’s sword. His mother believes that he will grow up into one of the greatest heros of all times. That’s called “pressure”. His first quest is set by his Tutor. He has to kill a dragon.

Prince Sigurd is Norse hero that Richard Wagner took up as “Siegfried” in his opera of the same name.

Read by Elizabeth. Written for Storynory by Charlotte Sebag-Montefiore.


Sigurd was the son of a King. That’s a good start in life, but before he was even born, his father was killed in a war. That was not so good. The night after the dreadful battle, the King’s wife, crept over the field where the poor soldiers lay. By the moonlight, she collected the shattered pieces of the king’s old sword and she kept them safely. You see, it was a magic sword, and the king had told her that it would belong to their son, and that he would grow up into one of the greatest heroes of all time.

Sigurd’s mother went to live with another King, and I think she married him. This new King looked after her, and her son, very well. But life was not easy for young Sigurd. He knew that his mother expected a lot of him. It is one thing to have a go at being a hero, and quite another when everyone is waiting for you to grow up into the greatest hero who ever lived. That’s called Pressure.

But he did mature into a fine young man. At least he looked pretty good – all the girls thought he could play the part. He had a special tutor called Regin, whose job it was to see that he knew how to behave as a true Prince. One day he suggested that it was time for Sigurd to go to the King and ask for his own horse. That is what he did, and the King told him to choose any horse he liked from the stables.

On the way across the courtyard, Sigurd met an old man.

“Where are you going?” he said. “Are you about to choose a horse?” In fact, this old fellow was Odin, ruler of the gods, who knew everything. “Would you like my advice?” he asked.

Sigurd looked at him. He didn’t seem like the sort of person who knew about horses. But he had known what Sigurd was about to do, and “Maybe,” thought Sigurd to himself, “Just maybe I ought to listen to what he has to say.”

It was a wise decision: listen to advice and then take it or leave it. The old man told Sigurd to drive all the horses to a river and to choose the one that swam across. It sounded like a good plan, and that is what he did.

The horse that swam across the icy river was a beautiful grey mare, young but not too young, with a tail and mane that flowed with the wind when she galloped. Sigurd stretched out his hand flat with a carrot, and the horse whinnied to a stop and took it.

“That’s my girl,” said Sigurd. He walked the horse back, and saddled it up. “Good choice,” said the old man “This animal is of noble stock: it is descended from Odin’s horse, and will serve you well.” And Sigurd thanked him and went back into the palace.

At dinner he sat next to his old teacher, Regin. “Now you’ve got a horse” said Regin, “Why don’t you go and get some treasure?”

“Well,” said Sigurd “Can it be as easy as that? The only treasure I know about is guarded by the dragon, Fafnir”. As you know, all dragons are terrible, but this one was more terrible than most.

“Are you a coward?” said Regin.

“No,” said the boy. Not for the fist time he began to suspect that his tutor was a little bit sly. He narrowed his eyes and asked: “Why are you so keen for me to kill this dragon?”

Regin told Sigurd some of the truth. Fafnir the dragon had once been human and was in fact Regin’s own brother. There had been three brothers. Regin was the eldest, next was a young man who swam and looked liked an Otter, and the youngest was Fafnir. Now, the otter-like, middle brother had been murdered, which angered the father so much that he demanded the blood price, – a lot of gold – and he got it. But the murderer had stolen the gold from a Dwarf who, surprise, surprise, got very angry. “A curse on you,” he said to the murderer. “ A curse on you forever. And what’s more…this gold will bring bad luck to whoever has it.”

So it was that the family was now cursed. Fafnir killed his own father for the gold, and now rich he worried how to protect his newfound wealth and so he became a dragon to guard it.. Regin had loved his father, and also loved gold, and so wanted vengeance. “That’s why” he said to Sigurd “That’s why I want you to kill Fafnir. I’ll help you too. You know me as a tutor, but I was a great smith and have not lost my skills. I will make you a sword to kill the dragon with.”

“Well make me a sword, and I will slay your brother-dragon,” promised Sigurd, who was now rising to the challenge.

Regin made a beautiful sword. It was straight and strong and glinted in the sun. Sigurd tried it out on a stone, and it smashed to pieces.

“I’m afraid that’s no good to me,” he said. And so Regin made him another sword fit for a prince. Sigurd soon broke that one too.

Everyone at court was talking about how Sigurd had broken two swords as if they were twigs of a tree, and soon his mother heard about it too. The time had come to give her son the broken pieces of his father’s blade. Regin made these into a shining and great new sword. Sigurd clashed this blade on a lump of iron, and it did not break, but split the iron in two.

A few days later, Sigurd rode out with Regin to the heath where the Dragon had been seen. It was a bleak and blasted spot. Sigurd looked down and saw a ravine – definitely not a green and pleasant valley. Along the bottom, there was a strange white trail which even from that distance looked like slime.

“There,” said Regin “ See that! It’s slime from the dragon like a snail trail….! That’s the way he goes to drink, there’s a lake at the bottom.” Sigurd saw that the trail was very broad, and the weight of the Dragon had made a huge indent in the ground. “The Dragon must be huge” he said. “Yes,” said Regin “And see that thing that looks like a caravan, that’s the Dragon’s dung!”

“Wow” said Sigurd. There was nothing else to say, and he automatically gripped his sword tighter… “When you go down” said Regin, “be careful to stand at the side. If you go in front of Fafnir, you’ll be poisoned by his breath, and if you go behind him, he’ll knock you over with his tail and then…”

“I know, I know” said Sigurd “He’ll eat me”….and he began to clamber down into the valley. His idea was to ambush the Dragon, to dig a pit with his sword, climb in and hide. When the Reptile slithered across the pit, he would drive his sword into the Dragon’s heart from underneath. It was a brave plan.

If the Dragon’s forelegs fell into the pit, his head would go in and that would be the end of Sigurd. If his hind legs went in, his great feet would claw Sigurd to death or squash him. Either of these things might happen. But Sigurd was brave, and he dug the pit as he thought best, climbed down into it and tried to camouflage over it. He hoped the Dragon would not smell him.

Sigurd had never been so frightened as when he sat in the dark dugout, listening to the dragon getting closer and closer. His heart pounded in his chest and beads of sweat broke out across his forehead. The dragon’s wheezing lungs drew nearer and nearer. And then thud! The dragon arrived over the pit. Without a second to lose Sigurd thrust his sword straight up through the camouflage and it cut directly into the dragon’s heart. Fafnir lashed with his tail till stones broke and trees crashed about him. Then he croaked and said:

`Whoever you are, my gold will bring you death…..’

Sigurd said: “I will die anyway, Fafnir, but now it is you that must die,” and he thrust the sword some more… and Fafnir died.

It was very hard for him to climb out of the pit and over the terrible dead dragon, but Sigurd told himself the dragon was more terrible when he was alive.

Regin came down to meet him and asked him to roast Fafnir’s heart for him. Sigurd didn’t much like the idea, but he always obliged people if he could, so while Regin built a little fire, he cut out Fafnir’s heart. He had to touch the disgusting bit of meat, , and while he was putting it on to grill, he burnt his finger.. So he licked it, now sticky with the residue of the dragon’s heart and to his amazement, he was suddenly able to hear what the birds roundabout were saying. One bird said :

“There is Sigurd roasting Fafnir’s heart for another, when he should eat it himself and learn all wisdom.’

Another bird said:`There lies Regin, ready to betray Sigurd, who trusts him.’

A third bird said:`Let him cut off Regin’s head, and keep all the gold to himself.’

When Sigurd heard the birds’ truth, and understood that he was about to be betrayed, after all he had done for Regin, in a passionate rage he took out his sword once more and cut off his tutor’s head.

Then he heard a fourth bird sing:
“Sigurd kills a dragon

a hero and a man

now he ought to find a bride

Brynhilde, if he can.”

And that is how Sigurd got the idea of going to look for Brynhilde, – but that is another story.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/03/12/sigurd-and-the-dragon/feed/ 56 http://storynory.com/2012/03/02/storytelling-world-book-day/ http://storynory.com/2012/03/02/storytelling-world-book-day/#comments Fri, 02 Mar 2012 16:04:57 +0000 Natasha http://storynory.com/?p=8555 Storynory celebrated World Book Day, this year on Friday the 2nd of March with some live storytelling at Muswell Hill Library.

Children and teachers from St James and Muswell Hill Primary came to watch the storytelling, performed by Storynory voice over artist Natasha. The stories   told for the event were The Golden Goose, by The Brothers Grimm, Little Red Riding Hood by Charles Perrault and an original Storynory story Katie and The Invisible Umbrella by Hugh Fraser.

Storynory was delighted to have shared World Book day with Muswell Hill Library. Story games and free special Storynory badges were given out after and children thorougally enjoyed their day. Storynory would like to thank Lorna Thompson for organizing the event with the local schools.

World Book Day is now in its 15th year and celebrates Book reading all over the country as well as promoting Book reading events, activities and offering a platform for storytellers. To find out more about World Book Day visit: www.worldbookday.com

If you would like to find out more about storytelling from Storynory.com

e-mail Natasha, natasha@storynory.com



 

 



 

 

 



 

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/03/02/storytelling-world-book-day/feed/ 3 http://storynory.com/2012/03/02/words-for-life/ http://storynory.com/2012/03/02/words-for-life/#comments Fri, 02 Mar 2012 15:45:22 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=8558 We are really pleased to be part of the Words for Life Campaign, just launched by the National Literacy Trust.

The campaign has commissioned research showing that a third of parents do not realise that they are the most important factor in their own children’s development of speech. Of course we believe that listening to stories with your children is a great way to develop listening, vocabulary, and communication skills.

The campaign includes many of our audio stories which you can find on their site, here, and here, and here. We are delighted to be appearing on the site alongside some very well known children’s characters from the likes of the BBC.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/03/02/words-for-life/feed/ 7 http://storynory.com/2012/03/01/chap-17-wizard-of-oz/ http://storynory.com/2012/03/01/chap-17-wizard-of-oz/#comments Thu, 01 Mar 2012 10:59:53 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=8411 Download the audio
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The big day has arrived. Wizard has promised to fly back to Cansas with Dorothy. The crowds await to see them off. Read by Natasha.


17. How the Balloon Was Launched

For three days Dorothy heard nothing from Oz. These were sad days for the little girl, although her friends were all quite happy and contented. The Scarecrow told them there were wonderful thoughts in his head; but he would not say what they were because he knew no one could understand them but himself. When the Tin Woodman walked about he felt his heart rattling around in his breast; and he told Dorothy he had discovered it to be a kinder and more tender heart than the one he had owned when he was made of flesh. The Lion declared he was afraid of nothing on earth, and would gladly face an army or a dozen of the fierce Kalidahs.

Thus each of the little party was satisfied except Dorothy, who longed
more than ever to get back to Kansas.

On the fourth day, to her great joy, Oz sent for her, and when she entered the Throne Room he greeted her pleasantly:

“Sit down, my dear; I think I have found the way to get you out of this country.”

“And back to Kansas?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, I’m not sure about Kansas,” said Oz, “for I haven’t the faintest notion which way it lies. But the first thing to do is to cross the desert, and then it should be easy to find your way home.”

“How can I cross the desert?” she inquired.

“Well, I’ll tell you what I think,” said the little man. “You see,
when I came to this country it was in a balloon. You also came through
the air, being carried by a cyclone. So I believe the best way to get
across the desert will be through the air. Now, it is quite beyond my
powers to make a cyclone; but I’ve been thinking the matter over, and I
believe I can make a balloon.”

“How?” asked Dorothy.

“A balloon,” said Oz, “is made of silk, which is coated with glue to
keep the gas in it. I have plenty of silk in the Palace, so it will be
no trouble to make the balloon. But in all this country there is no
gas to fill the balloon with, to make it float.”

“If it won’t float,” remarked Dorothy, “it will be of no use to us.”

“True,” answered Oz. “But there is another way to make it float, which
is to fill it with hot air. Hot air isn’t as good as gas, for if the
air should get cold the balloon would come down in the desert, and we
should be lost.”

“We!” exclaimed the girl. “Are you going with me?”

“Yes, of course,” replied Oz. “I am tired of being such a humbug. If
I should go out of this Palace my people would soon discover I am not a
Wizard, and then they would be vexed with me for having deceived them.
So I have to stay shut up in these rooms all day, and it gets tiresome.
I’d much rather go back to Kansas with you and be in a circus again.”

“I shall be glad to have your company,” said Dorothy.

“Thank you,” he answered. “Now, if you will help me sew the silk
together, we will begin to work on our balloon.”

So Dorothy took a needle and thread, and as fast as Oz cut the strips
of silk into proper shape the girl sewed them neatly together. First
there was a strip of light green silk, then a strip of dark green and
then a strip of emerald green; for Oz had a fancy to make the balloon
in different shades of the color about them. It took three days to sew
all the strips together, but when it was finished they had a big bag of
green silk more than twenty feet long.

Then Oz painted it on the inside with a coat of thin glue, to make it
airtight, after which he announced that the balloon was ready.

“But we must have a basket to ride in,” he said. So he sent the
soldier with the green whiskers for a big clothes basket, which he
fastened with many ropes to the bottom of the balloon.

When it was all ready, Oz sent word to his people that he was going to
make a visit to a great brother Wizard who lived in the clouds. The
news spread rapidly throughout the city and everyone came to see the
wonderful sight.

Oz ordered the balloon carried out in front of the Palace, and the
people gazed upon it with much curiosity. The Tin Woodman had chopped
a big pile of wood, and now he made a fire of it, and Oz held the
bottom of the balloon over the fire so that the hot air that arose from
it would be caught in the silken bag. Gradually the balloon swelled
out and rose into the air, until finally the basket just touched the
ground.

Then Oz got into the basket and said to all the people in a loud voice:

“I am now going away to make a visit. While I am gone the Scarecrow
will rule over you. I command you to obey him as you would me.”

The balloon was by this time tugging hard at the rope that held it to
the ground, for the air within it was hot, and this made it so much
lighter in weight than the air without that it pulled hard to rise into
the sky.

“Come, Dorothy!” cried the Wizard. “Hurry up, or the balloon will fly
away.”

“I can’t find Toto anywhere,” replied Dorothy, who did not wish to
leave her little dog behind. Toto had run into the crowd to bark at a
kitten, and Dorothy at last found him. She picked him up and ran
towards the balloon.

She was within a few steps of it, and Oz was holding out his hands to
help her into the basket, when, crack! went the ropes, and the balloon
rose into the air without her.

“Come back!” she screamed. “I want to go, too!”

“I can’t come back, my dear,” called Oz from the basket. “Good-bye!”

“Good-bye!” shouted everyone, and all eyes were turned upward to where
the Wizard was riding in the basket, rising every moment farther and
farther into the sky.

And that was the last any of them ever saw of Oz, the Wonderful Wizard,
though he may have reached Omaha safely, and be there now, for all we
know. But the people remembered him lovingly, and said to one another:

“Oz was always our friend. When he was here he built for us this
beautiful Emerald City, and now he is gone he has left the Wise
Scarecrow to rule over us.”

Still, for many days they grieved over the loss of the Wonderful
Wizard, and would not be comforted.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/03/01/chap-17-wizard-of-oz/feed/ 42 http://storynory.com/2012/02/24/questions-for-sifs-golden-hair/ http://storynory.com/2012/02/24/questions-for-sifs-golden-hair/#comments Fri, 24 Feb 2012 11:47:10 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=8431 Download the audio
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Listen to the extract from our story Sif’s Golden Hair
It is around five minutes long. You can also read along with the text, and answer the questions at the end. The passage is about the ancient gods of Scandinavia in Northern Europe otherwise known as the “Norse” gods

Extract

What do Thursdays mean to you? They are not gloomy like Mondays, or glorious like Fridays, or lazy like Sundays…. They seem quite boring really, unless, that is, you know about Norse mythology. But once you have heard the stories of the Norse gods, you will realise that Thursdays are meant to be loud, thundero
us, stormy days, for they are named after Thor, the red-headed, hammer- yielding, thunder-clapping god of the Norse people.

Although Thor was a raucous fellow, he did, underneath it all, have one soft-spot – and that was for his beautiful wife, whose name was Sif, and whom he loved tenderly and dearly. She had long, thick wondrous golden hair, that flowed down her back like a field of corn. In fact, it was Sif who made the Norse people’s crops grow, and their fields yield long heavy ears of corn that would keep people well fed and happy. She travelled over the Northern world, and wherever there were families, farms and people tilling the land, Sif was sure to be near at hand smoothing their path against the cruel winds, cold and winters of the North.

Of course as every lady knows, beautiful hair does not take care of itself. She was very proud of her hair, and did not allow herself to have a bad hair day – especially as she knew she was not the only one who was very proud of her hair, Thor her husband was very proud of it too, and often boasted of it when he was drinking his mead to anyone who was around to listen. Morning, noon and night, Sif combed her wondrous hair with a jewelled comb, and she often washed in pure sparkling streams, and lay it out in the sun to dry on a rock. As you can imagine, with hair as thick as hers, it took quite a while to dry.

One day, while she was sitting on a bank of the softest moss outside her house in Asgard, where the gods live, drying her golden hair in the sun, Sif went to sleep. It’s easy to go to sleep in the sun when you’re not doing much. And it’s especially easy, if another god puts a spell on you so that nothing can wake you.

It was Loki, the god of fire and mischief, who cast this sleeping spell on Sif. He found her dozing with her gorgeous hair flowing all around her, and his evil mouth smiled at this chance to make trouble in the Thunder-God’s household. He knew that Sif’s hair of gold was Thor’s greatest treasure – and he was determined to take it away from him.

And while she was asleep, Loki took his shears and chopped off Sif’s hair, every single lovely lock! One by one they tumbled onto her shoulders and down her dress. Her head was bare, as if she’d had a haircut in the army or become a convict on a prison ship – the poor thing!

A while later, Sif woke up. Her head and neck felt cold and light, – she looked up and saw the sun was still shining. Then she felt for her hair, – there was nothing there! Looking down, she caught sight of the clusters of curls that lay all around her. Horrified, she rushed inside and burst into tears … and rain fell in bucketfuls on all the corn in the north, so the people asked “What in heaven’s happened to Sif?” She continued to cry and cry.

Comprehension Questions

1. Why should you think of Thursdays as noisy days?
2. What did Sif spend much of her time doing?
3. Describe Loki’s character.
4. How did Sif realise that she had lost her hair?
5. How did people know that Sif was upset?

Vocabulary and Grammar

1. “Although Thor was a raucous fellow”
   What does “raucous” mean?
   a) fierce
   b) brave
   c) tough
   d) noisy
2. A “bad” hair day”" can mean a day when your hair is a mess,but what is its other meaning?
   a) A day when you are untidy
   b) A day when everything seems to go wrong
   c) A day when you get up late
   d) A day when you miss an appointment
3. “beautiful hair does not take care of X..” What is the missing word?
   a) themselves
   b) tidiness
   c) itself
   d) own
4. “X hair of gold”. What is the missing word?
   a) Sif’s
   b) Sifs’
   c) Sifs’s
   d) Sifs
5. “She burst into tears”. What is another word for “burst”
   a) shed
   b) cried
   c) broke
   d) wept

Assignments

Describe how you feel about each of the days of the week.

What is the meanest trick that anyone has ever played on you? Describe it in writing, or discuss mean tricks in class.

If you could choose, what sort of hair would you like to have? Thick, long, dark, blond, curly, short, neat, straight…?

Few people believe in the Norse gods these days – but why do you think we find their stories so appealing? Do we relate to their characters? Do we like the explanations they give for things like the weather? Do they shed light on our own beliefs? Or do we just find them funny? Write down your thoughts or discuss in class.

]]> http://storynory.com/2012/02/24/questions-for-sifs-golden-hair/feed/ 1 http://storynory.com/2012/02/24/questions-for-awaking-beauty-1/ http://storynory.com/2012/02/24/questions-for-awaking-beauty-1/#comments Fri, 24 Feb 2012 11:42:31 +0000 Bertie http://storynory.com/?p=8428 Download the audio
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Listen to the extract from our story Awaking Beauty.
It is around four minutes long. You can also read along with the text, and answer the questions at the end. The passage is about a student who is starting her first day at a college in Oxford University. The student (Sally) speaks with an accent from the City of Liverpool.

Extract

Sally was just longing for her parents to leave. It had been very kind of them to drive her up to her new college, but now she had been smothered and mothered quite enough. After 18 years, she had received all the advice she needed about hot her water bottle, her vitamin pills, and her beauty sleep.

“And just one word before we go,” said Mum as she held both her daughter’s hands tightly: “Don’t ever turn down an invitation to a party, You never know who you might meet, especially in a place like this.”

When her parents stepped out through the door of the Porter’s Lodge, and back into the real world of light, noise and pollution, Sally turned around and looked at the honey coloured stone of Westerly College. For almost 800 years, students had walked around the quadrangle, past the dining hall, the chapel, and the doors that opened onto creaky staircases. Very little had changed down the centuries. The only discernible evidence of the modern world was the faintest rumbling of traffic from the street beyond the college walls.

“It’s just like a fairy tale,” thought Sally to herself, “Like a castle in an enchanted wood, that has been asleep for centuries.”

She went back to her room and lay on her narrow, lumpy bed. Suddenly she felt restless. Was her new life to consist of these four oak panelled walls? The spirits of all the students who had lived in this room down the centuries were not much company. For a moment or two, she even missed her parents. She resolved not to be lonely. She got up, went out of her room, and tapped on her neighbour’s door.

“This is the knock of destiny,” she said to herself, “Perhaps the door will be opened by an Arabian prince, or perhaps by the daughter of a postman. Either way, I have this feeling that we will be life-long friends.”

But no reply came from within. Whoever he or she might be was out, no-doubt hobnobbing with brilliant and fascinating friends. Sally went back to listen to The Killers on her mp3 player.

The next day, she knocked on the door of her tutor, and as it was half open already, she entered his room. She saw two boys sitting on chairs, and a girl stretched out on the sofa with her nose buried in a cushion. The boys were in jeans and t-shirts, that hardly matched the black academic gowns draped on their backs. The sleeping girl wore a purple velvet dress, embroidered with a rich pattern of leaves and exotic birds. Her auburn hair rolled down her face in ringlets. Her arm dropped limply down to the floor. A bracelet clustered with jewels dangled on her wrist. Her expression was of serene innocence.

One of the boys smiled at Sally and put his finger over his lips to say “Shshsh.”

Comprehension Questions

1) What kind of advice does Sally’s mother like to give her?

2) What impression does Sally have of Westerly College?

3) Who is living in the room next door to Sally?

4) Why does Sally feel lonely?

5) Why does the boy “Shshsh” to Sally?

Vocabulary and Grammar

1) “Don’t ever turn X an invitation.” What is the missing word?

a) up
b) at
c) around
d) down

2) “The only discernible evidence.” What does “discernible” mean?

a) can be seen
b) can be proved
c) can be refuted
d) can be said

3) What does “It’s” mean?

a) it has
b) it is
c) Many types of it
d) It has been

4) “X he or she might be was out”. What is the missing word?

a) whoever
b) soever
d) who
d) whose

5)”Her auburn hair”. What colour is “auburn”?

a) reddish-brown
b) bright red
c) black
d) blond

Assignments

Is somebody who is 17 or 18 years old, and starting university, grown up? Or are they still a child? Write down your views or discuss in class.

What institutions more or less never change, even in the modern world? You might mention
university, school, parliament, churches, law courts, families, kings and queens… anything you think never changes. Write down your ideas or discuss in class.

Is there such a thing as a “modern fairytale”? Or do fairytales have to be set long long ago, in a far faraway land..?

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