Once upon a time...

There was a red dragon
Who went on an adventure with a blue dragon and a golden dinosaur

And at first all was well-
they frolicked on the trails,
enjoyed a picnic on the clifftop,
and soaked up a beautiful sunny day in God's nature.
What more could a dragon wish for?

But then.
They saw a dark hole in a cliff wall
Did they dare enter?
"It will be fun," said one.
"We should at least try," said another.
"I have a torch," said the third.

So in they went,
to the sound of eerily dripping water
and their own careful footsteps.

And they took one turn to the right.
And another to the left.
And found empty rooms with old bunks where soldiers had likely slept.
And a pipe up the ceiling where either air or escapes could be had.
And then they reached the end

And came back, still cautiously,
because they had read all the right books and knew that goblins run very softly...
and they knew that some caves have walls that open up.
So one walked in front with the torch
And one walked in the middle to watch the side walls
While one kept a good eye out backward.

That way they made it out safely.
And, after congratulating themselves on being so very brave and clever, they continued on more adventures.

The End

Once upon a time...

There was a koala who could not tell time.
His father taught him to track the sun across the sky.
His mother taught him to look at the star patterns.
His uncles taught him to follow the rhythms of the forest as the animals woke and slept.
His aunts taught him to look for food and water when fresh and cool, and to sleep during the heat.

But still he could not tell time.

So one day, he snuck into a backpack of a nearby Australian...
And flew to Malaysia.
He hoped to learn time there, but his claws had a dificult time with the mobile phones.
So he and his Australian flew to Rome.
But the Italian concept of time was unlike anything he'd ever seen.
So he and his Australian rode a bus to Vienna.
But, while 'Austria' and 'Australia' may look similar, the language and punctuality confused his brain.
So he and his Australian took a train to the Czech Republic.
And there, the koala was happy.
Because there were clocks everywhere - big ones on churches, medium ones on walls, and little ones in shops.
And the koala was so happy, and so content, that he snuck out of the Australian's backpack.
He made his way into a restaurant, and climbed up in the rafters.
There he was above the food and surrounded by a city of clocks.
And he became famous, and fat, and even more contented in all of that.
So they named the restaurant after him.

And while some say this is just a legend, that very place is still there to this day.

Once upon a time...

There was a money lender, in a far off land.

And there was a certain woman on his list, high on his list of debtors.
She had no money left to pay him after her husband died, so he began to think of what he could salvage from the situation
"Aha," he thought, "she has two sons!"
"I shall take them for slaves and gain it all back!"

The woman, well aware of his plans, went to the Wise Man.
The Wise Man, also known as the Miracle Worker, listened as she cried out her story
"How can i help you?" he asked. "What do you have in your house?"

She thought this an odd question, but answered truthfully,
"Nothing there at all."
He waited....
Then she remembered!
"I do have a little oil..."
The Wonder Worker smiled, and told her what to do.

The creditor's wife soon heard a knocking at her door.
It was the widow.
"May I borrow some of your jars, please?"
Knowing that God blesses those who are generous to the poor, the creditor's wife agreed, as did the other neighbors.
Surprised as they were at the odd request from a penniless woman, they were soon even more surprised!
Because the widow soon and somehow had oil jars upon oil jars upon oil jars full to sell!
And word soon went round, how the Wonder Worker had worked yet another miracle.
This time, how he had used God's power to multiply the oil into enough to sell, pay the debts, and live on.
And while some were surprised that nothing more dramatic had happened (such as a resurrection of the dead husband, surely the most practical solution and well within the Wise Man's abilities)... or a rich kinsman redeemer appearing to marry the woman...
The story of the widow and the oil became one of the most treasured tales of the village
How one woman, who had almost nothing, gained more; how when she was at her emptiest, she was suddenly filled from the hand of God.
It quietly gave hope to others, who felt empty inside.
Perhaps the same God who cared for one poor widow would care for their dryness as well.

The end

Once upon a time
There were three camels
And when they were young, they had no names
Besides "Baby White" "Baby Black" and "Baby Brown"

But as they grew into adolescents this was more troublesome
Because proper camels should have proper names
So their Bedouin owner sat in his tent and tried different names aloud
"Wise one" "Strong one" "Fair one"
He would shake his head dismally each time.
Occasionally his wife would call suggestions as she bent over the hearth
"Bright eyes? Starry one? Path Seeker?"
He would only shake his head again and lament the fate of the poor nameless camels, and the shame that would bring to his tent.

But one day, a traveller visited the nomad village
As was courteous, he greeted them in peace and asked if he might stay and trade stories for a time
Since storytellers were highly thought of, he was immediately welcomed to the chief's tent, fed the finest foods, and invited to stay as long as he wished.
Each night that week, he told a different story, or perhaps two or three

And one night, while the poor owner of the camels was squatting with the men by the campfire, the storyteller told a tale of three men, serving in the court of a king
The king was fierce and mighty, and demanded much respect from his people
(The men nodded - this was only right)
And one feast day, the people gathered, and much music was played
(The women, listening from within the tents, murmured approvingly- what was a feast with no fine foods and accompaniment?)

And then - the storyteller threw his hands up to the sky - a huge statue was revealed, shining and golden!
(The children, playing around the fire, gasped excitedly)
And the storyteller explained dramatically that as the vast sea of people bowed, as commanded, to worship the statue and their king...
Three men remained standing!
The entire village, listening to the story, fell into stunned silence.
"What audacity!" "What dishonour to their families and to the king!" "Surely he would have them killed or thrown out for defying his power!"

The storyteller swept his gaze around the tents
"The three men," he said slowly, "were called to the king's presence."
" O king," the three said, "we do not need to defend ourselves before you."
(The villagers rolled their eyes and clicked their tongues. "Foolish men, to not plead for mercy or at least a quick death.")
But the storyteller continued in a measured voice,"if we are killed, the God we serve is able to save us, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king."
Quiet murmurs. This was a new idea. That Allah would step into fate and change it for the sake of three rebels... this would need discussed by the elders.
"But even if He does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."
The storyteller was silent, and let that sink in
Again, a new concept. It would need due attention.
And the village was intent on giving it due attention, silently and not so silently, when a small hand tugged at the storyteller's robes.
"And then what? Then what?" came a child's voice clearly over the crackle of the flames.
The storyteller, lit by the bonfire's light, looked gravely at the small one
(The child's mother put her hand over her mouth and waited)
"Then, my child...
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were thrown into a FIRE."
The children gasped.
The mothers swished their skirts nervously.
The fathers pulled their beards and tried to look unconcerned.

Suddenly, oddly, the storyteller smiled
"The king," he continued, "looked into the fire and gasped too!
For there, walking around unharmed, were the three men!"

The storyteller paused to let the hum die down.
"And with those fearless three was one more, a shining one, who appeared as a son of the gods.
The king cried out, 'Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, servants of the Most High God, come out! Come here!'
And they stepped out.
Unharmed.
Untouched by the smoke, even.
The king saw what a fool he had been.
To set himself up against God and God's followers.
He decreed that his entire kingdom should worship the one true God,
Saying, 'For no other god can save in this way!' "

The storyteller bowed his head, and indicated that his story was at an end
The villagers had much to think about that night.
And for many nights after, as long as the storyteller stayed, and then after that.
For many of them became followers of the one true God, and storytellers to their own people as well

And the camel owner...

Well, he had names for his three camels *and* a story to tell to those who recorded the camel pedigrees.