There is a long standing ritual in our family that mealtimes for my children would be accompanied by a story being told by me, and it survived their growing up enough to read on their own. Nowadays however, most of the time all four are engrossed in our own books or kindle, and dinner table conversation if any often revolves round the reading material. Sometimes though, I still have to make up stories for them, but with the stipulation that it has to be original, or at least new to them, and usually on a fixed topic. The topic could be a news item, or some object in the room. Many fantasies were thus woven, soon to be forgotten. Recently however, my daughter reminded me of a few she remembered over the years, and wanted me to write them down. This is the first such attempt.
The chosen topic was…
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