Short Story
THE PRICE OF HOPE
The morning sun bathed the terraced hills of the village in golden light. Fields of ripening maize stretched across the slopes, and small houses made of stone and mud dotted the landscape. The village, isolated from the bustling cities of Nepal, was quiet except for the occasional chirp of birds and the soft breeze that swept through the valley. For as long as anyone could remember, this land had been a place of toil, of simple living, and, for many, of silent despair.
By Roshan Chauhanabout a year ago in Fiction
Whispers of Magic: Inspiring Quotes from The Dragon Who Loved Dandelions
In a forgotten corner of the world, where mountains kissed the clouds and rivers sang lullabies to the stars, there lived a dragon named Ember. He was unlike any dragon written in old tales or etched into crumbling scrolls. While others chased storms and hoarded gold, Ember chased dreams — soft, floating dreams carried on the breath of the wind. He loved dandelions most of all. Every spring, fields across the valley would turn into oceans of gold and white, and Ember would spend his days lying in the middle of the blooms. He would watch the tiny seeds rise with each gust of air, each one carrying a silent wish into the great wide sky. To Ember, dandelions were more precious than any treasure. One afternoon, while basking under a sky heavy with the scent of rain, Ember overheard a group of villagers nearby. They spoke in hushed, worried voices. A terrible drought had gripped their land, and no matter how hard they prayed, the skies remained dry, and their crops wilted into dust. "We've sent word to the castle," one farmer said, "but no magic has come." "Not even the dragons can save us," sighed another. "They care only for their own." The words pricked Ember’s heart like tiny thorns. He had magic, yes — not the fierce, fiery magic of his kin — but a gentler kind, woven into the seeds he loved so dearly. That night, under a blanket of silver stars, Ember decided he would try. He plucked dandelions one by one, whispering ancient words he had learned from the winds and the rivers. Words that were not shouted or roared, but sung so softly they were barely more than a breath. With every word, the seeds shimmered brighter, gathering a light that even the stars paused to admire. Then, carrying the glowing seeds in his claws, Ember soared toward the village. The journey was long, and the drought had left the earth cracked and brittle. Ember’s shadow stretched across empty fields and silent woods. Fear flickered in the villagers' eyes when they saw him approach, but he did not roar or descend with fury. Instead, he landed gently, and with a single breath, sent the dandelion seeds spinning into the air. The seeds floated through the village like tiny lanterns. Wherever they touched, grass sprang green again. Flowers unfurled their petals. The river, long dry, burbled to life, laughing joyously as it tumbled over stones. The villagers stared, open-mouthed, as the seeds worked their quiet magic. A little girl, no taller than Ember's knee, crept forward. She offered him a crown made of woven dandelions, her hands trembling with both fear and wonder. Ember bowed low so she could place it upon his head. That was the beginning of the whispers. Stories spread far and wide about the gentle dragon who could heal the land with only a breath. Poets wrote songs. Children painted pictures. Travelers came from distant lands, not to capture Ember, but to see him, to thank him, to ask him to teach them the language of wishes. Ember, though shy, welcomed them. He taught them that magic was not in the strength of the breath, nor the might of the wing. It was in the **hope whispered into each seed**, the **kindness carried on the wind**, and the **courage to believe in small things**. Soon, the valley was no longer known for its storms or battles. It was known as **The Valley of Whispers**, where dreams took root and bloomed like golden fields under the sun. In the village square, a great stone was placed, carved with words inspired by Ember’s gentle wisdom: > *“Even the smallest seed, carried by the softest breeze, can grow a forest of dreams.”* And above the stone, every spring, thousands of dandelions would bloom — a sea of golden wishes dancing in the sun. As for Ember, he still spent his days among the flowers, smiling quietly as seeds floated into the sky, carrying the hopes of the world to places unseen. Sometimes, if you listened closely, you could hear his voice on the wind — a soft, ancient whisper, reminding everyone that magic is never truly lost... It only waits, patient and bright, in the smallest corners of the world. --- # Selected Quotes from the Story: **1.** *"Kindness needs no roar — it only needs a whisper and a willing heart."* **2.** *"The greatest magic often lives in the gentlest breath."* **3.** *"A single dandelion can carry more hope than a thousand golden crowns."* **4.** *"Real treasure is found not in gold, but in the dreams we dare to plant."* **5.** *"Even the softest creature can awaken the world."*
By Little Dream Storiesabout a year ago in Fiction
Elephant and Calf
Elephants, the so-called giants of the animal kingdom, are also among the smartest and emotionally complex creatures walking the planet. On the whole, elephants have a social structure, behaviour, and emotions that are deep, especially the bond between an elephant calf and its mother. This bond is among the tightest in the animal kingdom, and it's a reflection of the species' ability to survive as well as its complex social behavior. Here we will look at the incredible tie between elephants and their young, and how it ensures the survival of the latter, the role of family units in the society of this monumental social creature, and how the very fibre of the bond bears testament to the phenomenal flood of emotions experienced by one of the largest and most majestic of beasts.
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
Why Do Crocodiles Eat Rocks
Why Do Crocodiles Eat Rocks? Did you know that some crocodiles eat stones? And yes, it sounds strange, but it is true. These rocks are called gastroliths, and they are an essential part of a crocodile's life. It may appear as though the snapping crocodile is gulping down everything in its path, but there's a method to the madness.
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
Lost in Translation
A priest was almost done with his missionary work with the local tribes in the jungle, and several of the members of the tribe had been taught and converted to Christianity from his work. He never got around to teaching the people how to read, however, so he was concerned on the effect his departure would have on their community. Eager to give them something, he set about teaching the king a few rudimentary words.
By Rohitha Lankaabout a year ago in Fiction
In the Shed
Would you live here even if it is a shed? Who could and would have lived here? This is a little old brown shed that could have been the home of a writer artist who really liked their solitude to perfect their craft. If it was possible to be a perfect writer. One that could have been a poet but wanted to write fiction or maybe become an artist of some kind to go along with their writing.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Fiction
