The prince’s valentine

   Once upon a time there was a little Prince, and he wanted to give a valentine to a little Princess who lived in a neighboring kingdom. She was a very beautiful little Princess indeed, for her smile was as bright as her golden hair, and her love for her subjects was as deep as the blue of her eyes.

"What kind of a valentine shall I get for the Princess?" the Prince asked.

"A heart, your Highness; nothing but a heart will do!" said the Court Wise Man.

"A beautiful heart, your Highness; nothing but a beautiful heart will do!" said the Court Ladies.

"A priceless heart, your Highness; nothing but a priceless heart will do!" said the Court Chancellor.

So the Prince started out to get a heart valentine for the little Princess that would be both beautiful and beyond price, and he did not know where to find it.

Before long, though, he came to a jeweler’s shop that was full of pretty, costly things to wear. There were pins, and bracelets, and necklaces made of silver and gold, and set with rubies, and sapphires, and emeralds, and diamonds.

"This is the place to find a valentine for the little Princess," thought the Prince, and he selected a diamond heart hung on a gold chain as thin as a thread for the little Princess to wear about her neck.

The Prince gave the jewelers his bag of gold and started out of the shop with the diamond heart in his hand. But he stopped at the door, looking at the heart. It was dull, and no longer shining. What was the matter with it, he wondered. Then he remembered. It was not the right valentine for the little Princess because it had been bought with his bag of gold. So the Prince gave the diamond heart back to the jewelers, and went on again.

After the Prince had gone quite a distance he came to a pastry shop. It was full of delicious things to eat, jam tarts, and little strawberry pies, thickly frosted cakes, and plum buns. In the window of the pastry shop was a huge cake baked in the shape of a heart. It was rich with sugar and spices, and the icing on the top was almost as thick as the cake itself.

"This is the place to find the valentine for the little Princess!" thought the Prince, and he pointed to the great heart cake in the window. "How much must I pay for that cake?" he asked of the pastry cook.
"Oh, you could not buy that cake!" the pastry cook replied. "I made it as a decoration for the shop for Valentine's Day. But I will give it to you, your Highness."

So the Prince thanked the pastry cook, and started out of the shop with the great cake in his arms.

"This must surely be the valentine for the little Princess, because I could not buy it," he thought.

Then the Prince almost dropped the cake. It had suddenly grown too heavy for him to carry. What was the matter with the rich, huge cake, he wondered. Then he remembered. It was not the right valentine for the little Princess because something rich to eat is not beautiful. So the Prince gave the cake back to the pastry cook, and went on again.

Now he went a long, long way, and he came to a bird seller beside the road. He had little gold birds, and bright-colored ones in green basket cages. They were all singing as if their throats would burst, but the Prince could hear one soft note above the others, because it was so clear and sweet. It was the cooing of a little dove who sat in her cage apart from the others. The Prince thought he had never seen such a beautiful little dove, as white as snow, and with rose red feet.

"Why does she sing so much more sweetly than the others?" the Prince asked, pointing to the little white dove.

The bird seller smiled.

"She sings because of her heart," he said. "The other birds sing in the sunshine, but look"—he held up the dove's cage, and the Prince saw that the little white dove had closed, blind eyes. "She sings in the dark because of her happy heart," the bird seller said.

"May I buy her," the Prince asked, "to give as a valentine to a little Princess?"

"Oh, I will give her to you," the bird seller said. "Very few people want to take care of a blind bird."

But the little Princess did. She liked the white dove better than any of her other valentines. She hung her cage in a pink rose tree in the sunniest part of the garden, and she often invited the Prince to sit with her under the tree and listen to the dove's sweet song.

Silent Rose

                                                                             Silent Rose

     There once was a girl named Rose. She grew up in a loving family and led a peaceful life. That was until her 13th birthday. 

Rose and her parents were driving home from her birthday dinner. It was late at night and Rose was happily chatting away to her parents. It was bad luck that her father was concentrating on what Rose was saying instead of focusing on the road. Her mother screamed, “LOOK OUT!” That was when Rose’s father turned around to see the two bright beams of a truck’s headlights rushing towards them. A split second later, the sound of screaming brakes and grinding metal filled Rose’s ears. 

The reports all said that Rose was lucky to be alive. While her parents were killed on impact, she only suffered minor cuts and bruises, but the major damage was on the inside. Rose blamed herself for her parent’s death. She was the one talking, which distracted her father. She was the reason they were dead. 

Rose was taken in by an orphanage. She was still beating herself up for what happened, and refused to talk. Filled with remorse, she visited her parent’s graves every Sunday. She would bring roses so that her parents would know that it was her that visited. She was an outcast at the orphanage. Some were scared of her, while others would tease her for being “Weird”. 

A group of boys were especially nasty. They would follow her when she went to the graveyard on Sundays. They would attack her and torture her, knowing that she would suffer in silence. 

One week, they took it too far. They took the roses she had laid on her parent’s graves and shoved them down her throat, suffocating her. 

Realizing what they had done, they quickly took her body and buried her. Then things started to happen... 

One by one the boys that had killed her started to see her in their dreams and when they breath, and then was still. She whispered under her breath, “We all fall down.” were alone it would become silent. Then, a week after her death, one the boys were found dead with surrounded with a ring of red rose petals. The next two boys suffered the same fate, one day after the next. 

The final boy was lying awake in bed roses down his throat and he was to escape the nightmares, when she appeared. She was wearing a white gown, stained with blood and she was holding a bunch of red roses. She staggered towards him, with a malevolent grin on her face. He went to scream, but couldn’t; she was making him suffer the way she did. She started to sing slowly, in a voice that sounded like nails on a blackboard “Ring, a ring of roses, a pocketful of posies, atishoo, atishoo, we all fall down.” During the song the boy fell to his knees and struggled to breathe. He took his last breath.

The Dead Are Better Left Dead!

The Dead Are Better Left Dead!

This is a story about a young man who kills an old man!

It was 5:00 A.M. when I went to the old man’s house in Salem. I went there because, I had gotten a call about a noise coming from the old mans house on scary street.

A young man, his nephew opened the door. He seemed friendly enough. He asks me “Officer Jane” to come in. he offer me a drink, “I said no thank you.

I asked about the old man. The young man “Sam” told me that his uncle went to visit his grand-children in Boston. The young man took me in to the living room. He told me to have a seat. He sat down, too. He talked in a low soft voice.

After some minutes of this he seemed a little nervous. He began to talk in a more angrily voice.

“He said Stop! Stop! I can’t take it anymore look under the rug under the couch.” I looked and found the old man shredded into pieces. I was in shock! The tiny body pieces kept moving around slowly. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Then the young man, saw them too, and asked me to arrest him and send him to jail for murdering his rich uncle. His guilt had over- come him; but I asked him “why did you kill the old men?” He told me; because he was jealous of the old man fop tuned He told me he never wants to get out of jail. He felt horrible about the whole thing!

Never kill someone because you are jealous of that person. What you did can hunt you and you go to hell

Real Ghost story

                                                                Real Ghost story 

Brother Emmett Fisher was a fine looking young man who lived in a tiny community on the Georgia coast. He was well respected in town for being an honest, hardworking fellow. Although he wasn't wealthy, he made a nice-enough living doing handiwork for the local townspeople.
Emmett was getting close to marrying age, and every woman in town was jumping at the chance to be his chosen. He’d have unexpected visits from different women every day bearing gifts of fried chicken, gumbo, cakes, cookies and other delicacies.

But Emmett had his eyes set on a beautifully mysterious young woman who lived alone in a small cabin deep in the marsh. She was incredibly beautiful, with long dark hair, smooth skin and piercing green eyes. But word around town was that she was a little strange, and it was best to stay away from her.

Emmett, however, couldn't get this mysterious woman out of his head. What made her even more intriguing was the fact that she would walk through town, turning heads with every step, but never did she acknowledge the admiring glances or catcalls from numerous, hopeful, would-be suitors. In fact, no one in town could ever remember this woman speaking a word to anybody.

After several months of watching this gorgeous beauty walk through town, Emmett finally worked up enough nerve to call on her at her marsh cabin. His plan was to go fishing one day in a tidal creek that just so happened to be near her home. While out fishing, he conveniently broke his water jug into a hundred little pieces. Brother Emmett walked up to the woman’s house and knocked on the door. As the door slowly creaked open and the woman peeked out, Emmett nervously cleared his parched throat. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he stammered, “my name is Emmett Fisher, and I seem to have broken my water jug. Could you please spare me just a cup of water? I’m mighty thirsty.”

The woman smiled and invited him in without hesitation. Her voice was even more beautiful and silky that Emmett had imagined. She not only gave Emmett a cup of water, but to his surprise, asked him to stay for supper. The food was delicious, and the woman waited on Emmett hand and foot. Before he knew it, she invited him to stay for breakfast the next day, then lunch, then another dinner. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Brother Emmett found himself married to the mysterious woman.

After their sudden marriage, Emmett and his bride got along reasonably well for a while. But after a few months, he began to notice that something peculiar was going on with his new wife. On certain nights, when the clock struck midnight, Emmett would sometimes wake up to find that his wife wasn't in bed with him, nor could she be found anywhere in the house. Emmett began to get worried that she might be seeing someone else on the side, and confronted her about it. But she would just laugh and reassure him that she was, indeed, in the house, and that he must be having nightmares. As his wife began to disappear more often, Emmett decided to confide in one of his best friends who had also just gotten married. After hearing Emmett’s story, his friend shook his head and said, “Emmett, I hate to say this, but it sounds to me like you might’ve married to a boo-hag.” “A boo-hag?” asked Emmett. “What’s a boo-hag?”

His friend went on to explain: “Well, a boo-hag is an evil spirit that wakes up at night, sheds her skin like a snake, and flies outside and sucks the blood out of victims from near and far. A boo-hag is an evil spirit that sits on your chest and steals your voice. A boo-hag is an evil spirit that sits on your back and rides you all night like a horse until you drop dead.” Horrified, Emmett said, “Well, I shore don’t want to be married to no boo-hag, if that’s what she is. What am I going to do about it?” “The only way to get rid of a boo-hag is to make shore she can’t get back in her skin. When she’s gone, take a look in the closet. If you see her skin hanging in there, take it off the hook, fill it with salt and pepper, put it back in the closet, then lie back and watch.” Around midnight that very evening, Emmett rolled over in bed and found that his wife was gone. He did what his friend told him to do – he got up, went to the closet, and found his wife’s skin hanging there, cold and slimy to his touch like a lizard’s skin. He filled it with salt and pepper, hung it back in the closet, then went back to bed and waited for his wife to return.

Sure enough, as the sun was about to rise that morning, the door opened, and in walked his skinless wife. She opened the closet door, took her skin off the hook and spoke to it in a gravelly, witch-like hiss: “I done been out and had my fun, But I’m back now, and my work’s all done. So let me in, skin, for the sun’s about to crest, You knows I’m a boo-hag, and I needs my rest.”

She then stepped into her skin and fastened it around her body. But after a while, that salt and pepper started to itch and burn her real bad. She tried to yank the skin off, but the more she tried, the tighter the skin pressed against her body. She screamed and hollered and jumped around the room, her skin burning her alive. With that, Emmett leap out of bed and said, “I got you now, you old’ boo-hag witch! You fooled me and tricked me into marrying you. So now I’m going to kill you. Isn't there nothing’ else can be done!”

With that, he shoved the boo-hag into a large barrel of tar he had cooking on the hearth. And that boo-hag burned and melted, her screams filling the air for miles and miles. After the boo-hag was dead, Emmett, being the handyman that he was, knew exactly what to do with that hot barrel of tar. As the sun rose that morning, he took that tar up to the top of his house, and poured himself a brand new roof. So, all of you nice, hard working, fine-looking young men out there – the next time your eye is caught by a beautiful young girl, you’d better get to know her before you marry her. Because, one day, you, too, may wake up late in the midnight hour, roll over in bed, and find yourself sleeping next to a boo-hag!

-THE END -

Cuckoo the Candy Princess!

Cuckoo the Candy Princess!

Once upon a time In Magic World, there was little princess named Cuckoo. Little Princess Cuckoo loved candy so much that everyone called her Cuckoo the Candy Princess. She loved candy so much, that she ate it everyday for breakfast, lunch, and dinner…… and it was good, but one day Cuckoo the Candy Princess got tired of candy, and that was bad, because that was the only thing they sold in Magic World. So Cuckoo the Candy Princess went looking for some new food to eat. She went on a long journey on a high heel path that led to a shoe, but Cuckoo the Candy Princess couldn't eat a shoe so when she walked on, and on, and on, until she found the other shoe. Normally Cuckoo the Candy Princess wouldn't pick up path shoes, but because of what just happened to her friend, Cinderella, Cuckoo the Candy Princess put on the shoes, and that's when she discovered, they were magical shoes – magical shoes which made her toes twinkle – so she walked to the store. And now the store was filled with everything BUT candy. Then Cuckoo the Candy Princess went back home and then the prince came home after her. And do you want to hear a little secret? He was the Pickle Prince, from the Poor Princess who ate Pickles' stories and I think that's just a little Cuckoo. Well anyways, the Prince came home and they made a vegetable soup, and they lived happily ever after, at least, until the soup was gone. But don't worry; Cuckoo the Candy Princess still has the magical shoes.