A Scary Fiction Story For Kids
By Sultan McGee
Next Page
Many years ago, when people got around on horses or oxcarts and most often walked, a girl named Olivia faced a problem so unusual it has to be told. In fact, it was once thought that anyone who knew this tale and didn't tell it would have bad luck. Like catching the pox or falling under an ox-cart. An even worse fate was in store for someone who didn't pay attention. So why take a chance? Here it is.
Olivia and her little sister Claire lived in a great forest that was also
home to many animals, especially rabbits, pigs, foxes and deer. Their
father cut wood and raised goats. His name was Joseph. Their mother made
a fine goat cheese and gathered mush-rooms. Her name was Agnes. Their
cottage was two miles from the village of Uppergumptionton, which was
pronounced "Upton" by the 150 or so people who lived there in
crowded cottages on narrow lanes. Villagers lived at a hectic pace, a
ceaseless hubbub, in the midst of constant distractions. The air was usually
laced with smoke and smells from the tannery, dungheap, brewery and blacksmith's
forge. In the late afternoon, the place was a noisy gridlock of sheep
and pigs. Yet villagers were proud of Upton-its bustle and excitement-and
considered the forest a dull, nowhere place. They scoffed that forest
people spent their time picking off ticks and scratching themselves on
trees. Upton had an uppity attitude
In fact, life was different in the forest. Forest people lived at a slower pace. They had pure air and clean water and ample time for contemplation and family activities. And they, in turn, looked down on the villagers. Olivia and Sassy Clyde were mortal foes for the simple reason that Olivia lived in the forest and Sassy lived in the village. Forest people joked that if a deep thinker ever turned up in the village, the poor soul would have no one to talk to. There was another difference, too. The forest, unlike the village, was a natural place for strange and wondrous events to occur. Olivia and Claire would soon discover this for themselves.
One morning Olivia and Claire slipped outside to avoid a second helping
of peas porridge (which had been in the pot for about three days).
They soon spotted a pika stuffing its cheeks with buds and bugs and nuts.
The pika darted away when it spied the girls, and they followed. Olivia was
faster than Claire and went on ahead. But the pika, even faster, disappeared
behind an old oak stump. The stump was covered with red and yellow flowers,
and in the midst of them, eyes half-closed, sat a toad as big as the blacksmith's
hand.
He looked grand, majestic even, and seemed to be in charge of the place. The toad blinked. Olivia moved in closer to get a better look, then reached out to touch him. ZAP! He leaped away, brushing her hand as he shot past, right into the path of Claire, who was coming up behind. Claire’s heart skipped a beat. She nearly fell down getting out of the way.
"What was that?" Claire asked.
"He jumped when I tried to pet him," said Olivia. "He could be a frog but I’m sure it’s a toad."
"How can you tell a toad from a frog?"
"It’s really quite simple," she explained. "They have different names. You call a toad a toad and a frog a frog. You’re not supposed to call a toad a frog. It’s an insult, and it makes no sense at all." Olivia spoke with such authority that Claire always learned a great deal.
To receive the whole story, simply EMAIL your request to the author.