Podcasts about kids stories

THE SEASONS IN A BREATHAutumn appeared at the window and looked around— it was November."The leaves are yellow and red.The swallows fly away in flocks over the rooftops.The crisp air smells of roasted chestnuts and burning wood.I like it this way,"Autumn exclaimed.Winter opened the door and looked around— it was January."The snow and the freezing wind.In the woods, mistletoe on branches beneath a blanket of ice.The marmot sleeps in her covered den, dreaming of the stars.How lovely it is to be warm and cozy!"Winter exclaimed.Spring stepped out onto the terrace and looked around— it was April."The flowers bloom and the birds chirp, returning to their nests.With the mild temperature, joyful life vibrates in the air.How wonderful!"Spring exclaimed.Summer went into the garden and looked around— it was July.A cat rests in the shade of a pine tree.The air smells of cut grass and ripe fruit.The butterflies dance carefree to the song of the cicadas.The sun makes me smile!"Summer exclaimed.The months pass and the year spins at great speed,but they will always bring something beautiful. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

S6E8 - Story for kids in tamil. Send your feedback to storytimesonline@gmail.com, about kathaium naanum.

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A Farmer's daughter was carrying her pail of milk from the field to the farm-house, when she fell a-musing, “The money for which this milk will be sold, will buy at least three hundred eggs. The eggs, allowing for all mishaps, will produce two hundred and fifty chickens... AcreSoft Story Classic https://acresoft.contactin.bio The heart of man deviseth his way, And Jehovah establisheth his step. Proverbs 16:9, YLT

S6E3 - Story for kids in tamil. Send your feedback to storytimesonline@gmail.com, about kathaium naanum.

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S6E1 - Story for kids in tamil. Send your feedback to storytimesonline@gmail.com, about kathaium naanum.

Halloween over Florence: THE MARKET OF GHOSTSSeverino lived in the bell tower on the hill — the one next to the ancient Basilica of San Miniato al Monte.Every evening, at sunset, he would lock the gate at the base of the entrance stairway and before climbing back up, he would pause to watch Florence color itself amber.And so he did today as well. The tourists had left. Time stopped and silence became sacred again.Through the rusted bars the city stood there motionless — perhaps since forever; with its red roofs, marble facades and the Arno flowing between its stones like a glittering silver ribbon.Domes and towers trembling with light, almost suspended in the air, as if everything and everyone were holding their breath waiting for twilight — and for the night that would cover it with shadows, stars and dreams.One more glance, then he turned on his transistor radio that he had found a few years ago and the notes of Duke Ellington's 'Don't Get Around Much Anymore' filled the autumn evening.Silence may be sacred for the monks, but for Severino music was more so. Seven, his raven, didn't need to be called and at the first notes launched himself from the cypresses of the cemetery above, circled in front of the imposing facade of the Basilica and suddenly glided down along the stairway, to land gently on his left shoulder."Hey Seven, had a good day?""Yes. Could have been worse — Let's settle for that."At which, Severino smiled, turned up the radio's volume and began climbing resolutely toward le Porte del Cielo, while Jazz music echoed among the ancient stones.Nine years ago, on this same day in the month of October, the Olivetan monks residing in the Abbey found a child on the steps of the Basilica.He was there, wrapped in fog, silent as the night, eyes curious as the wind, without name and without past. They called him Severino — I don't know why — and he grew up among prayers and silences. He played in ancient rooms and discovered his world, surrounded by books, tombs, art and mysteries never revealed. At night a raven and a black cat accompanied him, illuminated by the moon, in the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, wandering among imposing crypts and motionless statues that whispered memories and mysteries.But on Halloween nights the whispers transform into screams and endless laments. Secrets manifest themselves, legends become reality, and dreams disguised as nightmares knock on doors lit by candles. And that full moon night was precisely this night: October 31st — and remember, whether you believe in spirits or not, nothing changes: the ghosts will come.And Severino was up there, right there waiting for them to arrive. Leaning out the highest window of the bell tower, calm, looking at Florence from above. While Thelonious Monk's 'Round Midnight' played on his radio, he watched — tapping time with one foot and waited.At the second of the twelve strokes of the midnight bells, something began to happen. On the Arno formed a dense fog that pulsed with spectral green. It began to rise and slide slow but inexorable over the bridges like fingers of cold hands of impatient ghosts. It slid over the Ponte Vecchio and rolled through the streets of Oltrarno until reaching San Niccolò, where it climbed up the hill swallowing everything it found in its path.When it reached the gate of San Miniato, it slipped through the bars and climbed up the stairs until it covered, like a high luminous tide, the entire square in front of the church. It climbed up the marble facade and wrapped also the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, covering the entire hill in a cloak of mystery. Then slowly, as if by enchantment, the fog began to dissolve rising toward the sky and when the last cloud melted into the night air, the square was no longer empty.Small jack-o'-lanterns with flickering lights floated in the air smiling with teeth of fire. Black candles sprouted from nowhere, illuminating spectral stalls full of everything and nothing. Bats that seemed made of paper but were alive fluttered among the lights with wings of black velvet, while autumn leaves danced without wind, sparkling with gold and copper. Pumpkins of every shape filled the stands, some carved with funny faces, others covered with silver spiderwebs that shone like threads of moon. Witch hats swirled in the air like flying umbrellas rotating slow on themselves. Roasted chestnuts perfumed the air with cinnamon and mystery, while small dancing skeletons tinkled like ice bells.And finally in the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, the Portal opened. Like every Halloween, for centuries, spirits from all over the world congregated in Florence for their annual meeting. A spectral river of ghosts poured into the square, each heading toward their own stall, and each with their impossible merchandise to sell or trade. The spirits had arrived and Severino observed them from above. A carnival of other worlds, made of sounds, colors and unimaginable stories.The deserted square had transformed into the Market of Ghosts. Stalls kept materializing from nowhere, carved and glowing pumpkins told each other stories of Halloweens past, present and future laughing malicious among the perfumes of lost memories, past centuries, tomorrow's candles and fallen stardust. The sky above the Tuscan hills and above Florence was full of ghosts arriving from everywhere to search for the unfindable. But no human eye could see this spectacle. No one except Severino, who descended from the tower enchanted by that spectacle and immersed himself in the crowd pulsating with otherworldly life. Seven circled above him observing with attentive eyes and cawing a bit nervous. Some ghosts looked at him with curiosity and recognized him. Someone greeted him and many others whispered his name in forgotten languages."There he is," murmured a witch from Prague."The child of time," sighed a Norman knight."He's returned, I told you so." laughed a Caribbean pirate.But Severino paid them no attention because there were ghosts selling: dreams of sleeping dragons, laughter of northern gnomes, tears of mermaids in love, the last breath of dinosaurs, shadows of unicorns. And even fears from past Halloweens — two for the price of one, but only for tonight. The ghost of a pirate who died during a boarding gone not so well shouted: "Storm bottles! Lightning in jars!" A witch from Salem whispered: "Love potions that last three lifetimes…" A medieval knight showed swords that cut fear, A Chinese spirit waved kites that fly into the past.The spectral crowd grew and thickened, laughed and bargained, while Severino walked amazed and fascinated among the impossible stalls of the Halloween Market. Seven cawed restless from above and Eleven, the black cat with orange eyes, jumped from one tent to another not losing sight of a single movement of Severino and the hundreds of souls circling around him.A ghost monk from an era that never existed saw him and smiled at him from behind a stall full of ancient radios adorned with mysterious symbols. Severino approached, fascinated."How wonderful! Do they all work?""Oh yes, certainly" replied the monk. "These transmit on the waves of past, present, and future time. But you don't need to buy one."The other ghosts stopped. They ceased selling, buying and bartering. They looked at Severino with respect and listened to what the collector of frequencies told him."The transistor radio you already have is more special than you think. But to discover its true secrets, you'll have to search in the ancient crypts where everything began."And suddenly the first lights of dawn began to illuminate the sky behind San Miniato with pink. In rush and hurry the ghosts said goodbye flying away in the wind. "Until next Halloween!" They told each other crossing in the sky. The stalls vanished. Lanterns and candles went out. The Market of Ghosts dissolved like a dream.Severino found himself alone in the empty square, Seven on his shoulder and Eleven sitting on the low wallLooking at Florence illuminating itself in the day of All Saints. He observed his old radio with new eyes and from the ancient crypts of San Miniato, something seemed to call him. He turned it on, turned up the volume and descended the stairway in time to Chet Baker's version of 'Autumn Leaves'.It was time to throw open the gate of the Basilica of San Miniato al Monte.___________________We will continue this story.... For now a Happy Halloween to all of you, may you always believe in magic!Story written by Marco Ciappelli for "Stories Under The Stars" Halloween 2025___________________Listen to Severino's Playlist for the songs that accompany this story and subscribe to discover new music with every adventure.

Halloween over Florence: THE MARKET OF GHOSTSSeverino lived in the bell tower on the hill — the one next to the ancient Basilica of San Miniato al Monte.Every evening, at sunset, he would lock the gate at the base of the entrance stairway and before climbing back up, he would pause to watch Florence color itself amber.And so he did today as well. The tourists had left. Time stopped and silence became sacred again.Through the rusted bars the city stood there motionless — perhaps since forever; with its red roofs, marble facades and the Arno flowing between its stones like a glittering silver ribbon.Domes and towers trembling with light, almost suspended in the air, as if everything and everyone were holding their breath waiting for twilight — and for the night that would cover it with shadows, stars and dreams.One more glance, then he turned on his transistor radio that he had found a few years ago and the notes of Duke Ellington's 'Don't Get Around Much Anymore' filled the autumn evening.Silence may be sacred for the monks, but for Severino music was more so. Seven, his raven, didn't need to be called and at the first notes launched himself from the cypresses of the cemetery above, circled in front of the imposing facade of the Basilica and suddenly glided down along the stairway, to land gently on his left shoulder."Hey Seven, had a good day?""Yes. Could have been worse — Let's settle for that."At which, Severino smiled, turned up the radio's volume and began climbing resolutely toward le Porte del Cielo, while Jazz music echoed among the ancient stones.Nine years ago, on this same day in the month of October, the Olivetan monks residing in the Abbey found a child on the steps of the Basilica.He was there, wrapped in fog, silent as the night, eyes curious as the wind, without name and without past. They called him Severino — I don't know why — and he grew up among prayers and silences. He played in ancient rooms and discovered his world, surrounded by books, tombs, art and mysteries never revealed. At night a raven and a black cat accompanied him, illuminated by the moon, in the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, wandering among imposing crypts and motionless statues that whispered memories and mysteries.But on Halloween nights the whispers transform into screams and endless laments. Secrets manifest themselves, legends become reality, and dreams disguised as nightmares knock on doors lit by candles. And that full moon night was precisely this night: October 31st — and remember, whether you believe in spirits or not, nothing changes: the ghosts will come.And Severino was up there, right there waiting for them to arrive. Leaning out the highest window of the bell tower, calm, looking at Florence from above. While Thelonious Monk's 'Round Midnight' played on his radio, he watched — tapping time with one foot and waited.At the second of the twelve strokes of the midnight bells, something began to happen. On the Arno formed a dense fog that pulsed with spectral green. It began to rise and slide slow but inexorable over the bridges like fingers of cold hands of impatient ghosts. It slid over the Ponte Vecchio and rolled through the streets of Oltrarno until reaching San Niccolò, where it climbed up the hill swallowing everything it found in its path.When it reached the gate of San Miniato, it slipped through the bars and climbed up the stairs until it covered, like a high luminous tide, the entire square in front of the church. It climbed up the marble facade and wrapped also the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, covering the entire hill in a cloak of mystery. Then slowly, as if by enchantment, the fog began to dissolve rising toward the sky and when the last cloud melted into the night air, the square was no longer empty.Small jack-o'-lanterns with flickering lights floated in the air smiling with teeth of fire. Black candles sprouted from nowhere, illuminating spectral stalls full of everything and nothing. Bats that seemed made of paper but were alive fluttered among the lights with wings of black velvet, while autumn leaves danced without wind, sparkling with gold and copper. Pumpkins of every shape filled the stands, some carved with funny faces, others covered with silver spiderwebs that shone like threads of moon. Witch hats swirled in the air like flying umbrellas rotating slow on themselves. Roasted chestnuts perfumed the air with cinnamon and mystery, while small dancing skeletons tinkled like ice bells.And finally in the Cimitero delle Porte Sante, the Portal opened. Like every Halloween, for centuries, spirits from all over the world congregated in Florence for their annual meeting. A spectral river of ghosts poured into the square, each heading toward their own stall, and each with their impossible merchandise to sell or trade. The spirits had arrived and Severino observed them from above. A carnival of other worlds, made of sounds, colors and unimaginable stories.The deserted square had transformed into the Market of Ghosts. Stalls kept materializing from nowhere, carved and glowing pumpkins told each other stories of Halloweens past, present and future laughing malicious among the perfumes of lost memories, past centuries, tomorrow's candles and fallen stardust. The sky above the Tuscan hills and above Florence was full of ghosts arriving from everywhere to search for the unfindable. But no human eye could see this spectacle. No one except Severino, who descended from the tower enchanted by that spectacle and immersed himself in the crowd pulsating with otherworldly life. Seven circled above him observing with attentive eyes and cawing a bit nervous. Some ghosts looked at him with curiosity and recognized him. Someone greeted him and many others whispered his name in forgotten languages."There he is," murmured a witch from Prague."The child of time," sighed a Norman knight."He's returned, I told you so." laughed a Caribbean pirate.But Severino paid them no attention because there were ghosts selling: dreams of sleeping dragons, laughter of northern gnomes, tears of mermaids in love, the last breath of dinosaurs, shadows of unicorns. And even fears from past Halloweens — two for the price of one, but only for tonight. The ghost of a pirate who died during a boarding gone not so well shouted: "Storm bottles! Lightning in jars!" A witch from Salem whispered: "Love potions that last three lifetimes…" A medieval knight showed swords that cut fear, A Chinese spirit waved kites that fly into the past.The spectral crowd grew and thickened, laughed and bargained, while Severino walked amazed and fascinated among the impossible stalls of the Halloween Market. Seven cawed restless from above and Eleven, the black cat with orange eyes, jumped from one tent to another not losing sight of a single movement of Severino and the hundreds of souls circling around him.A ghost monk from an era that never existed saw him and smiled at him from behind a stall full of ancient radios adorned with mysterious symbols. Severino approached, fascinated."How wonderful! Do they all work?""Oh yes, certainly" replied the monk. "These transmit on the waves of past, present, and future time. But you don't need to buy one."The other ghosts stopped. They ceased selling, buying and bartering. They looked at Severino with respect and listened to what the collector of frequencies told him."The transistor radio you already have is more special than you think. But to discover its true secrets, you'll have to search in the ancient crypts where everything began."And suddenly the first lights of dawn began to illuminate the sky behind San Miniato with pink. In rush and hurry the ghosts said goodbye flying away in the wind. "Until next Halloween!" They told each other crossing in the sky. The stalls vanished. Lanterns and candles went out. The Market of Ghosts dissolved like a dream.Severino found himself alone in the empty square, Seven on his shoulder and Eleven sitting on the low wallLooking at Florence illuminating itself in the day of All Saints. He observed his old radio with new eyes and from the ancient crypts of San Miniato, something seemed to call him. He turned it on, turned up the volume and descended the stairway in time to Chet Baker's version of 'Autumn Leaves'.It was time to throw open the gate of the Basilica of San Miniato al Monte.___________________We will continue this story.... For now a Happy Halloween to all of you, may you always believe in magic!Story written by Marco Ciappelli for "Stories Under The Stars" Halloween 2025___________________Listen to Severino's Playlist for the songs that accompany this story and subscribe to discover new music with every adventure.

When Sakthiyavaani couldn't find comfortable, stylish clothes for her kids, she decided to make them herself and that's how Desi Kids was born. What started as a mom's creative solution has now grown into a Singapore-based label crafting soft, breathable, and beautifully designed Indo-Western outfits for little ones.With her husband Ashvin supporting wherever he could, while running his own club and full-time job, Sakthi juggled motherhood, sourcing trips, and late-night design sessions, building the brand from the ground up. Now, with the launch of Kaasva, her new adult line, she continues to bring comfort and culture together in every stitch.Tune in to hear how Sakthiyavaani and Ashvin turned everyday parenting struggles into a thriving fashion brand.==========Don't forget to like, comment and subscribe to our YouTube and other social channels to never miss an update. Thank you for your support and we look forward to sharing more exciting content with you soon!

Today, we meet Saul Usoro, an ordinary kid with some extraordinary superpowers — who's about to discover a school where everyone has unique abilities! But on his very first day, a science experiment with the Graviton Crystal sends the whole school floating! Can Saul and his new classmates piece it back together before things drift too far out of control? Upgrade to Koala Kids Plus for full ad-free access to our collection of kids' shows, with bonus adventures and 8-hour episodes ⭐️ Subscribe via Apple Podcasts or visit https://koalashine.supercast.com/ Want to send in a note, joke, memo or monologue? Click here.

A Shepherd, keeping watch over his sheep near the shore, saw the sea very calm and smooth, and longed to make a voyage with a view to traffic. He sold all his flock, and invested it in a cargo of dates and set sail. But a very great tempest coming on, and... #story AcreSoft Story Classic https://acresoft.contactin.bio Before the face of the discerning, is wisdom, but, the eyes of a dullard, are in the ends of the earth. Proverbs 17:24 EBR

Today, we're meeting Sizzle, a tiny red dragon with a big problem…her fiery burps are turning trees to ash and threatening to get her kicked out of the magical Leora Academy! It's up to the Jupiter Twins, Lily and Jake, to find the one thing that can cure her burps: the golden fruit of the legendary Quenching Tree, found on a floating island in the sky. But with no magic allowed, can they get there and back in time before Sizzle flames out for good? Let's find out! Upgrade to Koala Kids Plus for full ad-free access to our collection of kids' shows, with bonus adventures and 8-hour episodes ⭐️ Subscribe via Apple Podcasts or visit https://koalashine.supercast.com/ Want to send in a note, joke, memo or monologue? Click here.

A Doe, blind of an eye, was accustomed to graze as near to the edge of the cliff as she possibly could, in the hope of securing her greater safety. She turned... #story AcreSoft Story Classic https://acresoft.contactin.bio Beloved, while I was giving all diligence to write unto you of our common salvation, I was constrained to write unto you exhorting you to contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all delivered unto the saints. For there are certain men crept in privily, [even] they who were of old written of beforehand unto this condemnation, ungodly men, turning the grace of our God into lasciviousness, and denying our only Master, God, and Lord, Jesus Christ. Jude 3-4 ASVBT

A Mystery in FlorenceIn Tuscany there is so much magic: hills decorated with olive trees, vineyards and cypresses, bell towers ringing everywhere, hidden gardens, and of course enchanted cities, full of history and beauty, where famous artists have created marvellous works of art.In this tale we find ourselves in the city of Florence, where magic abounds and legends hide in every corner.A river called the Arno runs through it; and amongst the many bridges there is one that quite rightly is a bit more famous than the others: the Ponte Vecchio. In those suspended houses no one lives anymore. Every day it is full of tourists who photograph it and come to visit from all over the world, but many, many years ago on this bridge there were butchers, fishmongers and tanners as if it were a market, a square suspended over the Arno and daily life was very different from today.At the time of this story the shops were all jewellery stores owned by master goldsmiths, who lived there, worked and sold gold jewellery and precious items of the highest quality. It was one of the hearts of the city where the Florentines of the time would meet and stop to chat whilst they came and went from one side of the river to the other. Even the children spent their days having fun playing and running from one side to the other undisturbed.At this point you must know that for some days small thefts had been occurring in the artisans' shops. Gold and precious items disappeared as if stolen by the wind, silently and by surprise, without leaving a trace. Who knows who knows? Who could be the culprit?The goldsmiths gathered together, after closing their shops, right there on the bridge."But what on earth is happening?" said one."Well, if only we knew..." said another."And we can't go on like this, looking like fools!"Bernardo, one of the goldsmiths, said: "Granted I'm a bit absent-minded, but I'm certainly not blind enough not to see if gold is missing from my shop."And off they went asking questions and interrogating each other to try to find an explanation for these thefts, discover the thief and perhaps recover what was stolen.In short, it had been weeks now that gold filings from the working of gold and various precious objects had been disappearing from the shops — and all this was happening under everyone's eyes but no one had seen anything.Who to blame if not those mischievous rascals who enjoyed playing football on the bridge! Between little matches, laughter, running, various games and hide-and-seek, who knows if one of them hadn't started stealing here and there.More days passed and more gold had vanished into thin air. The goldsmiths, tired of this business, came out onto the bridge and shouted loudly all together: "Now we've really had enough and it's time to put an end to it! Let's catch the thief!"Even Giulio the baker came out to the doorway of his shop, on the left, at the end of the bridge, and although he hadn't understood precisely what was happening, he showed everyone his flour-covered hands shouting: "I've got nothing to do with it, I swear! My hands are covered in dough only because I'm always preparing focaccia to bake in the oven."And saying this he joined the others shouting: "Let's catch the thief red-handed before that sack becomes one of flour!"In that commotion, Lapo, a very clever and curious boy, son of the goldsmith Bernardo who was friends with everyone and played together with the other children on the bridge, after reflecting thought: "There's something that doesn't add up: we children don't steal, whose fault can it be?"So Lapo decided to investigate on his own. Because as his grandfather always told him: "one thing done is worth more than a hundred to do" and then he would add that "if you do it yourself you do for three."So, without much ado, the following evening he organised himself, getting hold of a magnifying glass, a notebook with pencil to take notes and a lantern that would accompany him in the dark. The latter he held tight with a slightly trembling hand, but there was no hesitation — the situation wouldn't resolve itself.At dusk, he set off from the Ponte Vecchio, where he lived with his father above the shop, towards the column in Piazza Santa Trinità.Up there was, and still is, the Statue of Justice that towered so high as to touch the sky. The journey wasn't long, but that evening it took him longer than usual, because he observed everything with attention and curiosity. He looked right, left, in the narrow streets, beyond the parapet of the Lungarno and if he saw a stone he moved that too: "you never know where you might find clues" he thought.He had heard it said that the column and the statue of Justice were magical and full of secrets. But the most amazing thing was that from its summit, where indeed the statue stood, one could see what was happening at every point in the city — as we know justice sees and knows everything.Having arrived in Piazza Santa Trinita, he gave a great sigh, took one last step and at the foot of the column — what a surprise... he met a snail."A snail?" you will say. "Eh, exactly a snail complete with house on its shoulders, with lights on at the windows and a fireplace lit" Really, I tell you... Believe it... In short it was there, moving, slowly yes, but determined. When it heard the light step of the unexpected visitor, it became suspicious and withdrawing its antennae as if they were brakes, it stopped dead and said:"Halt! Who goes there? But who are you and where are you going? You're not looking for trouble, are you, wandering about all alone at this twilight hour?""No, what trouble... quite the opposite Mrs Snail" replied Lapo, "I should go to the top of the column to see what's happening on the Ponte Vecchio. There are things that don't quite add up and I'm investigating. As you can see I even have the magnifying glass and hat!" Said Lapo showing the objects to avoid misunderstandings. "Now, since you seem to be from around here, you wouldn't happen to know how I can get up there?"The snail who lived at the foot of the column and was to all intents and purposes its guardian, huffed but then smiled and showed Lapo a small door at the foot of the column, hidden by ivy."Dearest Lapo," she said adjusting her spectacles "you seem like a brave boy, a true friend and also a good investigator, but only from the top of the column will you be able to know the truth."Having said this, the snail rubbed her tentacles and they began to shine with a magical light that enveloped Lapo making him become the height of the door which opened with a great creak; so sharp as to make all the birds that were hanging about in the night fly away.Lapo, now very small, thanked the snail and without fear entered inside the column. In the darkness, he was impressed by a narrow and high well that went up instead of down. On the gleaming walls there was a spiral of tiny steps that he began to climb with determination with the lit lantern held tight in his hand. He reached the top.In the night the starry sky illuminated the Statue of Justice that towered over Florence. It had a scale with two balanced plates in one hand and a golden sword in the other.As we said previously, by enchantment, from there one could see the whole city — one just had to look in the right direction and think of the part of Florence you wanted to see: an incredible magic for a breathtaking view.Now was the moment to concentrate on the Ponte Vecchio and try to solve the mystery of the thefts, but whilst moving around the statue, to go to the side that looked towards the river, he made an incredible discovery. He couldn't believe his own eyes — so much so that he took out the magnifying glass to be sure. Both plates of the scale were full of gold filings and precious trinkets."Good heavens! And how did this stuff get up here?" Exclaimed Lapo with wide eyes. "This is undoubtedly the loot from the thefts at the jewellery shops!"At first, confused and amazed he didn't know what to think, but then, observing the filings more carefully he realised they were all woven together with bracelets and necklaces: these were two nests and an idea immediately flashed into his mind."The thieving magpies!" Exclaimed Lapo. Those crafty birds love everything that glitters, it must certainly have been them who robbed the shops and brought the stolen goods up here.And in the middle of this thought, suddenly they appeared in flight. They landed on the column agitated and furious "KRAA KRAA KRAA! Oh, little boy but what are you doing at our home? Don't you even dare touch these glittering marvels; they are our nest, we found them and they are ours."Lapo didn't let himself be frightened and calmly replied: "But what are you saying? You like glittering things that shine and you take them, but that certainly doesn't mean they are yours."The magpies were all chattering together they seemed to have gone mad and knew no reason. "But what is this one saying?" Said one. "Right, someone comes to our home and expects to give orders?" Added another. "Yes, nice joke. They're not ours? But are you a comedian? Change job, look, because you don't make us laugh." Said another.And all of them laughing.At which Lapo didn't let himself be intimidated. He rummaged in his pocket and found what he was looking for. He proposed an exchange. "What if we made a deal. To tell the truth I lose out quite a bit, but I like you so much that I would gladly give you these beautiful shiny marbles in exchange for the gold and trinkets."Seeing those small brilliant and colourful treasures, which they had never seen before, the magpies calmed down. They looked at each other with a crafty look and without hesitation... "Deal!"They took the marbles from his hand in a flash and flew away shouting: "Hooray, we're rich! From now on we'll collect these little balls."Sighing with relief and satisfaction, Lapo recovered the stolen goods and rushed down from the column. The snail was waiting for him applauding. With another spell she made him come out of the little door and appear right on the Ponte Vecchio where several Florentines were taking the evening air and chatting — including the goldsmiths."Papa, papa I've discovered the mystery and found the culprit, it was the thieving magpies! My friends didn't do anything wrong." "Calm down son, I'm listening". Replied Bernardo.Lapo with all the breath he had in his throat didn't waste a moment and told everything he had discovered and seen: the investigator's hat, the magnifying glass, the magical snail who knew the secrets of the column, the little door, the statue at the top, the view of Florence, the thieving magpies and the trick with the coloured marbles. Finally the mystery of the strange thefts was clarified, all the recovered stolen goods were returned to the goldsmiths of the Ponte Vecchio thanks to the enterprising and brave Lapo.At that point everyone who was on the Ponte Vecchio applauded shouting: "hooray, hooray, hooray, for the little investigator."Whilst the ancient bridge, perhaps enchanted, gleamed with golden lights.Giulio the baker whilst putting focaccia in the oven, sang merrily and with a ringing voice announced: "today focaccia for everyone free of charge, we must celebrate!"The thieving magpies returned to flying; they continued to find small objects and even pieces of glittering dreams; and chattering they said: "It may well be that we've lost a nest, but we've certainly found a story to tell."And perhaps, who knows, there will be a new story!— Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli [Inspired by a Florentine legend] Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

A Mystery in FlorenceIn Tuscany there is so much magic: hills decorated with olive trees, vineyards and cypresses, bell towers ringing everywhere, hidden gardens, and of course enchanted cities, full of history and beauty, where famous artists have created marvellous works of art.In this tale we find ourselves in the city of Florence, where magic abounds and legends hide in every corner.A river called the Arno runs through it; and amongst the many bridges there is one that quite rightly is a bit more famous than the others: the Ponte Vecchio. In those suspended houses no one lives anymore. Every day it is full of tourists who photograph it and come to visit from all over the world, but many, many years ago on this bridge there were butchers, fishmongers and tanners as if it were a market, a square suspended over the Arno and daily life was very different from today.At the time of this story the shops were all jewellery stores owned by master goldsmiths, who lived there, worked and sold gold jewellery and precious items of the highest quality. It was one of the hearts of the city where the Florentines of the time would meet and stop to chat whilst they came and went from one side of the river to the other. Even the children spent their days having fun playing and running from one side to the other undisturbed.At this point you must know that for some days small thefts had been occurring in the artisans' shops. Gold and precious items disappeared as if stolen by the wind, silently and by surprise, without leaving a trace. Who knows who knows? Who could be the culprit?The goldsmiths gathered together, after closing their shops, right there on the bridge."But what on earth is happening?" said one."Well, if only we knew..." said another."And we can't go on like this, looking like fools!"Bernardo, one of the goldsmiths, said: "Granted I'm a bit absent-minded, but I'm certainly not blind enough not to see if gold is missing from my shop."And off they went asking questions and interrogating each other to try to find an explanation for these thefts, discover the thief and perhaps recover what was stolen.In short, it had been weeks now that gold filings from the working of gold and various precious objects had been disappearing from the shops — and all this was happening under everyone's eyes but no one had seen anything.Who to blame if not those mischievous rascals who enjoyed playing football on the bridge! Between little matches, laughter, running, various games and hide-and-seek, who knows if one of them hadn't started stealing here and there.More days passed and more gold had vanished into thin air. The goldsmiths, tired of this business, came out onto the bridge and shouted loudly all together: "Now we've really had enough and it's time to put an end to it! Let's catch the thief!"Even Giulio the baker came out to the doorway of his shop, on the left, at the end of the bridge, and although he hadn't understood precisely what was happening, he showed everyone his flour-covered hands shouting: "I've got nothing to do with it, I swear! My hands are covered in dough only because I'm always preparing focaccia to bake in the oven."And saying this he joined the others shouting: "Let's catch the thief red-handed before that sack becomes one of flour!"In that commotion, Lapo, a very clever and curious boy, son of the goldsmith Bernardo who was friends with everyone and played together with the other children on the bridge, after reflecting thought: "There's something that doesn't add up: we children don't steal, whose fault can it be?"So Lapo decided to investigate on his own. Because as his grandfather always told him: "one thing done is worth more than a hundred to do" and then he would add that "if you do it yourself you do for three."So, without much ado, the following evening he organised himself, getting hold of a magnifying glass, a notebook with pencil to take notes and a lantern that would accompany him in the dark. The latter he held tight with a slightly trembling hand, but there was no hesitation — the situation wouldn't resolve itself.At dusk, he set off from the Ponte Vecchio, where he lived with his father above the shop, towards the column in Piazza Santa Trinità.Up there was, and still is, the Statue of Justice that towered so high as to touch the sky. The journey wasn't long, but that evening it took him longer than usual, because he observed everything with attention and curiosity. He looked right, left, in the narrow streets, beyond the parapet of the Lungarno and if he saw a stone he moved that too: "you never know where you might find clues" he thought.He had heard it said that the column and the statue of Justice were magical and full of secrets. But the most amazing thing was that from its summit, where indeed the statue stood, one could see what was happening at every point in the city — as we know justice sees and knows everything.Having arrived in Piazza Santa Trinita, he gave a great sigh, took one last step and at the foot of the column — what a surprise... he met a snail."A snail?" you will say. "Eh, exactly a snail complete with house on its shoulders, with lights on at the windows and a fireplace lit" Really, I tell you... Believe it... In short it was there, moving, slowly yes, but determined. When it heard the light step of the unexpected visitor, it became suspicious and withdrawing its antennae as if they were brakes, it stopped dead and said:"Halt! Who goes there? But who are you and where are you going? You're not looking for trouble, are you, wandering about all alone at this twilight hour?""No, what trouble... quite the opposite Mrs Snail" replied Lapo, "I should go to the top of the column to see what's happening on the Ponte Vecchio. There are things that don't quite add up and I'm investigating. As you can see I even have the magnifying glass and hat!" Said Lapo showing the objects to avoid misunderstandings. "Now, since you seem to be from around here, you wouldn't happen to know how I can get up there?"The snail who lived at the foot of the column and was to all intents and purposes its guardian, huffed but then smiled and showed Lapo a small door at the foot of the column, hidden by ivy."Dearest Lapo," she said adjusting her spectacles "you seem like a brave boy, a true friend and also a good investigator, but only from the top of the column will you be able to know the truth."Having said this, the snail rubbed her tentacles and they began to shine with a magical light that enveloped Lapo making him become the height of the door which opened with a great creak; so sharp as to make all the birds that were hanging about in the night fly away.Lapo, now very small, thanked the snail and without fear entered inside the column. In the darkness, he was impressed by a narrow and high well that went up instead of down. On the gleaming walls there was a spiral of tiny steps that he began to climb with determination with the lit lantern held tight in his hand. He reached the top.In the night the starry sky illuminated the Statue of Justice that towered over Florence. It had a scale with two balanced plates in one hand and a golden sword in the other.As we said previously, by enchantment, from there one could see the whole city — one just had to look in the right direction and think of the part of Florence you wanted to see: an incredible magic for a breathtaking view.Now was the moment to concentrate on the Ponte Vecchio and try to solve the mystery of the thefts, but whilst moving around the statue, to go to the side that looked towards the river, he made an incredible discovery. He couldn't believe his own eyes — so much so that he took out the magnifying glass to be sure. Both plates of the scale were full of gold filings and precious trinkets."Good heavens! And how did this stuff get up here?" Exclaimed Lapo with wide eyes. "This is undoubtedly the loot from the thefts at the jewellery shops!"At first, confused and amazed he didn't know what to think, but then, observing the filings more carefully he realised they were all woven together with bracelets and necklaces: these were two nests and an idea immediately flashed into his mind."The thieving magpies!" Exclaimed Lapo. Those crafty birds love everything that glitters, it must certainly have been them who robbed the shops and brought the stolen goods up here.And in the middle of this thought, suddenly they appeared in flight. They landed on the column agitated and furious "KRAA KRAA KRAA! Oh, little boy but what are you doing at our home? Don't you even dare touch these glittering marvels; they are our nest, we found them and they are ours."Lapo didn't let himself be frightened and calmly replied: "But what are you saying? You like glittering things that shine and you take them, but that certainly doesn't mean they are yours."The magpies were all chattering together they seemed to have gone mad and knew no reason. "But what is this one saying?" Said one. "Right, someone comes to our home and expects to give orders?" Added another. "Yes, nice joke. They're not ours? But are you a comedian? Change job, look, because you don't make us laugh." Said another.And all of them laughing.At which Lapo didn't let himself be intimidated. He rummaged in his pocket and found what he was looking for. He proposed an exchange. "What if we made a deal. To tell the truth I lose out quite a bit, but I like you so much that I would gladly give you these beautiful shiny marbles in exchange for the gold and trinkets."Seeing those small brilliant and colourful treasures, which they had never seen before, the magpies calmed down. They looked at each other with a crafty look and without hesitation... "Deal!"They took the marbles from his hand in a flash and flew away shouting: "Hooray, we're rich! From now on we'll collect these little balls."Sighing with relief and satisfaction, Lapo recovered the stolen goods and rushed down from the column. The snail was waiting for him applauding. With another spell she made him come out of the little door and appear right on the Ponte Vecchio where several Florentines were taking the evening air and chatting — including the goldsmiths."Papa, papa I've discovered the mystery and found the culprit, it was the thieving magpies! My friends didn't do anything wrong." "Calm down son, I'm listening". Replied Bernardo.Lapo with all the breath he had in his throat didn't waste a moment and told everything he had discovered and seen: the investigator's hat, the magnifying glass, the magical snail who knew the secrets of the column, the little door, the statue at the top, the view of Florence, the thieving magpies and the trick with the coloured marbles. Finally the mystery of the strange thefts was clarified, all the recovered stolen goods were returned to the goldsmiths of the Ponte Vecchio thanks to the enterprising and brave Lapo.At that point everyone who was on the Ponte Vecchio applauded shouting: "hooray, hooray, hooray, for the little investigator."Whilst the ancient bridge, perhaps enchanted, gleamed with golden lights.Giulio the baker whilst putting focaccia in the oven, sang merrily and with a ringing voice announced: "today focaccia for everyone free of charge, we must celebrate!"The thieving magpies returned to flying; they continued to find small objects and even pieces of glittering dreams; and chattering they said: "It may well be that we've lost a nest, but we've certainly found a story to tell."And perhaps, who knows, there will be a new story!— Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli [Inspired by a Florentine legend] Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

All new! This first episode of The Good Eggs has been revised and remastered with an extended storyline! Welcome to The Good Eggs, a storytime channel filled with love, laughter, and learning!

The Weasels and the Mice waged a perpetual warfare with each other, in which much blood was shed. The Weasels were always the victors. The Mice thought that the cause of their frequent defeats was, that they had not leaders set apart from the... #story AcreSoft Story Classic https://acresoft.contactin.bio Before destruction the heart of man is high, And before honour [is] humility. Proverbs 18:12 YLT

Today, we're meeting Tofu, an extraordinarily lazy panda, who bamboozles the other animals into bringing him bamboo to chomp on by pretending he's a karate master. Only, the thing is, the village is about to come under attack from business men who want to mow down their crops and take all the bamboo for themselves. The animals come to Tofu for help, and his lies are exposed. Can he come up with a plan to redeem himself and save the village? Let's find out!  Upgrade to Koala Kids Plus for full ad-free access to our collection of kids' shows, with bonus adventures and 8-hour episodes ⭐️ Subscribe via Apple Podcasts or visit https://koalashine.supercast.com/ Want to send in a note, joke, memo or monologue? Click here.

This week's featured story comes from the So Many Fairies collection. It's called "The Iron Riders of Courage." In a home for the elderly, two people meet. Amos is confined to a wheelchair and Catherine cannot speak. Though they have never been introduced before, they each recognize something familiar about the other, and Amos is determined to find out what it is. A photograph of his childhood home takes them to a time long ago when a powerful magic rose up and embraced them both, a magic that exists for them still. If you enjoyed that story, there are hundreds and hundreds more where that came from. Try a Sparkle subscription now - for free. Go to www.sparklestories.com and click the button at the top that says “Start Free Trial,” then you can listen to our giant library as much as you like, anytime you like.  Each week on the Sparkle Stories Podcast, we share a free story from one of our original story series! For many many many more stories like this one, visit the Sparkle website: www.sparklestories.com  Questions?  Ideas?  Requests? Email us!  info@sparklestories.com Enjoy!

On a summer day, when the great heat induced a general thirst, a Lion and a Boar came at the same moment to a small well to drink. They fiercely disputed which of them should drink first, and were soon engaged in the agonies of a mortal combat. On their stopping on a sudden to take breath for the... #story AcreSoft Story Classic https://acresoft.contactin.bio For where jealousy and faction are, there is confusion and every vile deed. But the wisdom that is from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without variance, and without hypocrisy. James 3:16-17 ASVBT

An Eagle sat on a lofty rock, watching the movements of a Hare, whom he sought to make his prey. An archer who saw him from a place of concealment, took an accurate aim, and wounded him mortally... #story AcreSoft Story Classic https://acresoft.contactin.bio for let none of you suffer as a murderer, or thief, or evil-doer, or as an inspector into other men's matters; and if as a Christian, let him not be ashamed; and let him glorify God in this respect; 1 Peter 4:15-16

A certain poor Widow had one solitary Sheep. shearing time, wishing to take his fleece, and to avoid expense, she sheared him herself, but used the... #story AcreSoft Story Classic https://acresoft.contactin.bioThere is who is scattering, and yet is increased, And who is keeping back from uprightness, only to want. Proverbs 11:24 YLTThere is that scattereth, and increaseth yet more; And there is that withholdeth more than is meet, but [it tendeth] only to want. Proverbs 11:24 ASVBT

A Crow having stolen a bit of flesh, perched in a tree, and held it in her beak. A Fox seeing her, longed to possess himself of the flesh:... #story AcreSoft Story Classic https://acresoft.contactin.bio and evil men and impostors shall advance to the worse, leading astray and being led astray. And thou — be remaining in the things which thou didst learn and wast entrusted with, having known from whom thou didst learn, and because from a babe the Holy Writings thou hast known, which are able to make thee wise — to salvation, through faith that [is] in Christ Jesus; 2 Timothy 3:13-15, YLT

FORBIX — THE HAIRDRESSER WITH AN ARTIST'S TOUCHIn the heart of the town of Tagliaspunta, nestled among shops of all kinds, there's a hairdresser named Forbix, for women, men, teenagers, and children — though not too little. Forbix is no ordinary hairdresser: he has the magical touch of an artist. His scissors are made of silver and, as they cut, they whisper stories. His ivory comb makes hair shine, and his hairdryer doesn't blow air — it blows dreams.At his cutting station, he becomes a magician: the scissors, guided by his hand, flutter through the hair and, touch after touch — voilà! — the result is perfect.One day, the tree standing in front of his shop said to Forbix:“You are an artist, and I'm tired of my tangled mop of leaves. I'd love a little makeover,” it sighed, “and I'd make a great advertisement for you.”The hairdresser didn't need to be asked twice: he stepped outside with his enchanted scissors.Circling the tree with the flair of a genius, after a few confident snips, he trimmed the branches and turned the dry leaves into silver confetti that the wind carried away. The tree looked more radiant and alive than it had ever been, with fresh green leaves adorning it like braided ringlets.The next morning, two children — Sara and David — playful as ever, were hopping along the sidewalk when they saw the tree, so elegant and in a good mood, its leaves joyfully whistling.Sara had curls like little summer clouds, and David's hair stuck up like a tiny hedgehog.As they came closer, they asked in unison:“Who's the artist who did all this?”The tree replied: “The hairdresser, Forbix.”“We'd love to go too! Our hair is all messy and really needs a good fix. Our moms have been saying so for quite a while now.”“Well then, you'd better listen to them. Go on, go in,” the tree encouraged them with a whisper.David went in first, tripping over the marble step, followed by Sara who smiled and waved.Forbix, ever observant, welcomed them in and, running his hands through their hair one at a time, slowly began to cut with his magical scissors. The comb gently caressed their hair, which began to shine, and with the blow-dryer, dreams swirled through the air along with whispered stories.Looking at themselves in the mirror, their faces lit up with big smiles, while Forbix, pleased in turn, gave them a wink.Sara and David happily thanked him with a bow and a wave.Out on the sidewalk, they danced in a joyful circle around the tree, on whose branches little songbirds had perched — giving a cheerful concert, along with the leaves and the children.The true magic of Forbix lies not only in the tools of his trade, which he uses with an artist's passion, but also in his ability to listen — and bring a smile.-- Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli

FORBIX IL PARRUCCHIERE DAL TOCCO D'ARTISTANel centro della città di Tagliaspunta, tra negozi di generi vari, c'è un parrucchiere di nome Forbix, per donne, uomini, ragazzi e bambini — ma non troppo piccoli.Forbix non è un semplice parrucchiere: possiede un tocco magico d'artista. Le sue forbici sono d'argento e, mentre tagliano, sussurrano storie. Il suo pettine d'avorio fa brillare i capelli e il suo phon non soffia aria, ma sogni. Nella sua postazione di taglio diventa un mago: le forbici, guidate dalla sua mano, svolazzano fra i capelli e, tocco dopo tocco, voilà, il risultato è perfetto.Un giorno l'albero che stava davanti al suo negozio disse a Forbix:“Tu sei un artista e io sono stanco della mia chioma di foglie arruffate. Mi piacerebbe rimettermi a nuovo,” sospirò, “e poi ti farei una bella pubblicità.”Il parrucchiere non se lo fece ripetere due volte: si spostò all'aria aperta con le sue forbici incantate.Girando intorno all'albero con l'estro di un genio, dopo alcuni colpi decisi, spuntò i rami e trasformò le foglie secche in coriandoli d'argento che il vento portò via. L'albero apparve più splendente e vivo come non era mai stato, con le verdi foglie che lo adornavano come riccioli intrecciati.Il mattino seguente, due bambini — Sara e David — giocherelloni come erano, saltellavano sul marciapiede, quando videro l'albero così elegante, di buon umore, e le sue foglie fischiettavano gioiose.Sara aveva i capelli ricci come nuvolette d'estate, David li aveva spettinati come un piccolo porcospino.Avvicinandosi, in coro gli domandarono:“Chi è stato l'artista che ha fatto tutto questo?”L'albero rispose: “Il parrucchiere Forbix.”“Ci piacerebbe andare anche a noi, le nostre capigliature sono arruffate e avrebbero bisogno di una bella aggiustata. Le nostre mamme ce lo dicono oramai da un bel pezzo.“Allora e' meglio che gli date retta. Vai, vai, entrate.” Li incoraggiò l'albero, sussurrando.Per primo, inciampando nello scalino di marmo, entrò David, seguito da Sara che salutava sorridendo.Forbix, da buon osservatore, li fece accomodare e, passando le sue mani tra i capelli uno alla volta, piano piano iniziò a tagliare con le sue forbici magiche. Il pettine accarezzava i capelli che iniziarono a brillare e, con il phon, sogni volavano intorno insieme alle storie sussurrate. Guardandosi nello specchio, i loro volti si illuminarono con un gran sorriso, mentre il parrucchiere, a sua volta soddisfatto, gli faceva l'occhiolino.Sara e David ringraziarono felici con un inchino e un saluto. Sul marciapiede fecero un allegro girotondo intorno all'albero sui cui rami si erano posati alcuni uccellini canterini, che fecero un concertino, insieme alle foglie e ai bambini.La vera magia di Forbix non è solo nei suoi strumenti del mestiere che usa con la passione di un artista, ma anche nella capacità di ascoltare e donare un sorriso. Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You'll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available. Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

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06-23-25 - Entertainment Drill - MON - Trump Peacocked On Truth Social Over Iran Strike - Highlander Remake In The Works - John Confuses Nic Cage In Nic Cannon Kids StorySee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hello Listerooni, It's Nan here again — sorry I missed this ep of the Pugcast AGAIN, but I've had a bit of aviation drama

This week's featured story comes from the Junkyard Tales: All Together Now collection.   It's called "The Pirate Queen."   Georgia Bean, the kindly rat, is looking for something for the mice to do. The other animals suggest putting on a play and all offer to help in the production. They agree on a pirate theme, but everyone is surprised when one of the mice takes her part very very seriously.   If you enjoyed that story, there are hundreds and hundreds more where that came from. Try a Sparkle subscription now - for free. Go to www.sparklestories.com and click the button at the top that says “Start Free Trial,” then you can listen to our giant library as much as you like, anytime you like.   Each week on the Sparkle Stories Podcast, we share a free story from one of our original story series!   For many many many more stories like this one, visit the Sparkle website: www.sparklestories.com   Questions?  Ideas?  Requests? Email us!  info@sparklestories.com Enjoy!

Hello Listerooni, It's Nan here, sorry I couldn't be with you on this ep of the Pugcast. I'm in Thailand

The Out of Tune InstrumentsOn the bank of a stream, where a great many colorful little fish swam, lived a small family: mamma, babbo, and their seven children — four boys and three girls. Their house was a bit far from the town of Strumentopoli, but being close to the stream and next to the Great Forest made it a wonderful place to live.Mamma lovingly tended the vegetable garden. Babbo, on the other hand, was a woodworker who crafted musical instruments from the finest trunks, chosen among the sturdiest and most fragrant trees in the forest.The children went to school in the village. In winter, they reached it on skis, while in spring and autumn they rode in a cart pulled by two young deer — one white and one black, like the keys of a piano.Before they left, babbo counted them one by one to make sure no one was missing. Then, as he did every day, he reminded them:“Behave yourselves, don't skip school, and remember the tale of Pinocchio and his nose!”Those words always ended with a smile from everyone.Babbo would then return to his workshop. His instruments were well-made, using excellent materials, but there was one problem: they were out of tune. Still, as a good luthier, he didn't lose heart. His passion for music was so strong that teaching his children to play had become a joy. He even gave them special names: Chitarra, Violino, Oboe, Liuto, Arpa, Bongo, and Ukulele.Mamma didn't object. Of course, naming them after vegetables might have been funny, but their village friends probably would've made fun of them.The children did well in school, and when they came home, they helped mamma in the garden. One day, though, they mistook some nettle plants for lettuce — what a sting! They all ran straight to the stream and jumped in to soothe the burning.The little fish burst into laughter:“You're so silly! Ah ah ah!”Mamma helped them out of the water and, turning to the fish, said:“This evening, at sunset, there will be a concert in our courtyard. My children will perform with their instruments. You're all invited!”The fish replied enthusiastically:“Thanks for the invitation! We'll be there for sure — it's going to rain, and we love splashing! Splich, sploch, splach!”That evening turned out to be a real party. At the concert of slightly strange and delightfully quirky music, everyone had a blast: the musicians, the animals from the forest, and even the fish — who mamma cheerfully sprayed with water.After that joyful evening, life went back to its usual pace: school, garden, and even the forest. In fact, during their free time, the children often helped babbo choose and cut wood to build his instruments.The Great Forest had become familiar to them. So one day, while they were playing there and climbing trees, the kids spotted a group of gnomes huddled together, looking agitated. They quickly hid behind some bushes to observe and listen in on their conversation.The meeting, called in great haste, was to make a decision about an imminent danger. A powerful storm was on the way. They spoke of a hurricane wind that hadn't been seen or heard in a hundred years — or perhaps even longer — and it was heading for the forest.“We must stop it, by any means,” said the gnomes.So they decided to call on an old ally: the Great Warrior of the Mountain, armed with a sword and magical powers. He was the one who, in the past, had already defeated dragons and even extraterrestrials who had tried to conquer Earth.The seven children, alarmed by the news and determined to help in the battle, ran quickly back to the house — also to warn the villagers of the impending danger. Meanwhile, the wind drew closer. You could hear it from afar — wild and howling. As it passed, the trees bent until their tops brushed the ground. Some swayed, others snapped, and a few were completely uprooted.The people of Strumentopoli, who had begun to feel the wind blowing through the village streets and saw the Great Warrior descending the mountain, grew concerned — but they didn't panic. Everyone grabbed their instruments and rushed toward the house by the stream to help the family who lived there, and together try to save the Great Forest.At the same time, the colorful fish arrived — united and determined — along with the other animals of the woods and stream.“All together we can form a barrier and block the wind!” they shouted in unison.At that moment, the children of the family — still out of breath from running — stepped forward and said:“We have our babbo's instruments too. They're strange, a bit out of tune… but if we all play together, maybe we can stop the storm.” And with that, they rushed into the house and came back out in no time at all.The gnomes, fully aware of the instruments' flaws, cast a powerful musical spell. When the children began to play, something magical happened. For the first time, the music was melodious, harmonious, and full of feeling.One by one, all the people of Strumentopoli joined in. Each person, with their own instrument, contributed as if they were all part of one great orchestra.The hurricane wind — engaged in a fierce battle with the Great Warrior of the Mountain — heard the music from afar and immediately began to calm. Its howling softened, and by the time it reached the forest, it had become a cool mountain gust, and finally… a gentle valley breeze.The wind had become part of that marvelous orchestra — the battle was won thanks to everyone. Each had offered their own music and helped bring about the victory.“United we are strong,” they all said proudly.The babbo luthier continued building instruments with the finest wood the forest had to offer. They were so beautiful and sounded so good that people said they were the most melodic ever heard.The children — Chitarra, Violino, Oboe, Liuto, Arpa, Bongo, and Ukulele — joined the village band. At every festival, they played with great success, cheered on by applause and warm smiles. Even the gnomes and the Great Warrior listened to their music… from the forest and the mountain.The colorful fish swam and danced happily in the stream, and when someone passed by, they greeted them with joyful splashes.The family continued to live near the Great Forest, and on summer evenings, when everything finally grew quiet, they would lie along the stream and watch the stars above. Their hearts would tell stories… and the night would write the happy ending of every tale.

What a magnificent full moon!Late April.The San Fernando Valley shimmered gently.Tiny lights flickered softly,like electric fireflies in summer dreams.In a small garden,beneath an old wise lemon tree,something special was about to happen.Because lemon trees, you know,hide delicate secrets;magical whispers, patiently guardedamong their fruits, flowers and branches.Up high, safe and sound,Mr and Mrs Hummingbird waited.Little hearts vibrating with hope.They watched carefully,as small eggs cracked, whispered and hatchedunder California's warm sky.Jack and Sally arrived.At first with their eyes closed,resting peacefully in the warmth of their mother.Days passed gently.Soon their eyes opened andfeathers grew, stretching softly.From their nest they gazed with wonderat the lively world of the garden:birds singing, flowers murmuring,bees buzzing tirelesslyand squirrels chasing each other merrily,leaping from tree to treeas if they'd had a little too much coffee;far too much, in fact!“Calm down a bit,” exclaimed Sally bravely from the nest.“We're still learning how to be hummingbirds!”The garden fell silent for a moment,smiled quietly,and kindly replied,“Welcome, Jack! Welcome, Sally! Welcome to the Valley!”Days turned into weeks. Sally stretched her wings,tiny feathers growing stronger by the hour,training and preparingto reach the sky of her dreams.At last, the big day came.“Watch me, Jack!” sang Sally joyfully,and with a brave flutter, she left the nest.She flew—slowly at first, then faster;twirling, laughing, gliding above the flowers and below the branches,while the whole garden cheered and clapped.Jack watched from the nest, silent.His left wing, carefully folded, was still unsure.The garden held its breath, happy for Sally,but gently concerned for Jack.“Your moment will come too, dear,” whispered Mrs Hummingbird softly,kissing Jack on the forehead. “Believe in it.”That very night, as stars filled the sky,Jack stared at the little Glass Hot-Air Balloon that,hanging from a branch of the lemon tree,swayed gently in the evening breeze.An ornament, a sunset trapped,gently lit from within by dancing flames that, perhaps, were fake,but only if you didn't believe in magic.Jack believed.He balanced carefully, hopping softly,bravely, from branch to branch,towards the glowing balloon that kept on dancing in the windas if it were flying through the sky.Without hesitation, he jumped into the tiny basket.Suddenly, sparks shimmered. Whirls danced.Magic awakened beneath his feathers,as the Glass Hot-Air Balloon rose,lifting slowly into the evening air.“Jack!” exclaimed Sally, eyes full of wonder.She flew right up next to him, laughing.Together they soared, joyfully twirling,while the garden clapped louder than ever.Even Mr and Mrs Hummingbird blinked in astonishment,smiling proudly at their brave children.“You know,” said an old owl,smiling wisely from a nearby branch,“if you follow the sunset, through the canyon,you'll reach the Great Blue Ocean.”Jack's heart fluttered with courage.“Come with me, Sally!” he said, eyes shining.And Sally didn't hesitate.She joined Jack on the hot-air balloonand together they flew higher and farther,beyond the valley, over winding canyons,towards golden rays blending with endless blue.The ocean appeared—glittering, infinite;the waves whispering gentle secretslit softly by what was left of the sunset.Below, the Malibu pier glowed warm and welcoming,caressed by the Pacific Ocean and the breeze.The whole bay greeted the brave adventurers.Jack breathed deeply, heart full.He had found his way to fly, to soar in the sky;not by trying to be like the others,but by embracing who he truly was.Because it's not our limits that define us,but our courage to dream,our will to believe,and the magic we carry within.Because nothing,absolutely nothing,can stop those who dare to dream.- Written by Marco Ciappelli

This week's featured story comes from the How to Be Super: The Violet Crown (Book One)collection. It's called "Part One: The Welcome Wall." In which we are introduced to Dante and his single mother and learn that on the morning of his twelfth birthday, he experiences something incredible: he is struck by lightning. He is fine, but it begins a series of events that leads him to the neighborhood welcome wall where he receives a message that changes everything. If you enjoyed that story, there are hundreds and hundreds more where that came from. Try a Sparkle subscription now - for free. Go to www.sparklestories.com and click the button at the top that says “Start Free Trial,” then you can listen to our giant library as much as you like, anytime you like.  Each week on the Sparkle Stories Podcast, we share a free story from one of our original story series! For many many many more stories like this one, visit the Sparkle website: www.sparklestories.com Questions?  Ideas?  Requests? Email us!  info@sparklestories.com Enjoy!

As your toddler gets older you may be faced with challenges you never expected. You want them to make friends, but what if they don't like kids their age? Then what do you do when they start lying? We'll tackle both of these questions today on the podcast! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Holmberg's Morning Sickness - Brady Report - Tuesday February 4, 2025 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Holmberg's Morning Sickness - Brady Report - Tuesday February 4, 2025 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices