検索キーワード： 童話・民話・神話

Have you ever seen a very old chest, black with age, and covered with outlandish carved ornaments and curling leaves? Well, in a certain parlor there was just such a chest, handed down from some great-grandmother. Carved all up and down it, ran tulips and roses—odd-looking flourishes—and from fanciful thickets little stags stuck out their antlered heads.

Anna Kelly is a witch who's more interested in sleepovers, school friends and soccer than practising her magic. Then she meets Verbena Vile, a mad, bad and dangerous witch – and wishes she'd worked a bit harder on her spells! When Verbena kidnaps Anna's best friend Mary it's up to Anna and her cat Charlie to rescue her … with a little help from the powerful Mrs Winkle, of course. Will Anna's magic be strong enough to save Mary? Can she and Charlie defeat the vile Verbena?

Once upon a time there was an old poet, one of those right good old poets. One evening, as he was sitting at home, there was a terrible storm going on outside; the rain was pouring down, but the old poet sat comfortably in his chimney-corner, where the fire was burning and the apples were roasting.

Around the garden ran a hedge of hazelnut bushes, and beyond it lay fields and meadows with cows and sheep; but in the middle of the garden stood a blooming Rosebush, and under it sat a Snail, who had a lot inside his shell - namely, himself.

Through all the songs of the east, the eternal theme is the nightingale's love for the rose. In the silent, starlit nights, the winged songster sings his serenade to his beautiful scented flower.

The Red Shoes is a literary fairy tale by Danish poet and author Hans Christian Andersen first published by C.A. Reitzel in Copenhagen 7 April 1845 in New Fairy Tales. First Volume. Third Collection (Nye Eventyr. Første Bind. Tredie Samling). Other tales in the volume include The Elf Mound (Elverhøi), The Jumpers (Springfyrene), The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep (Hyrdinden og Skorstensfejeren), and Holger Danske (Holger Danske).

A prize was offered - or rather two prizes, a large one and a small one - for the greatest speed shown, not in just one race, but by one who had been racing for the whole year.

On board the steamer was an elderly man with such a joyful face that if it didn't belie him he must have been the happiest person on earth. In fact, he said he was the happiest; I heard it from his own mouth. He was a Dane, a countryman of mine, and a traveling theatrical producer. His whole company was with him and lay in a large box, for he was the proprietor of a puppet show. He said that his natural cheerfulness had been enlightened by a Polytechnic student, and the experiment had left him completely happy.

At dawn, when the clouds are red, a great star shines, the beautiful morning star. Her beams tremble on the white wall, as if she would like to write there the story of all she has seen during the thousands of years she has watched our revolving earth.

Once there was a Prince who wanted to marry a Princess. Only a real one would do. So he traveled through all the world to find her, and everywhere things went wrong. There were Princesses aplenty, but how was he to know whether they were real Princesses? There was something not quite right about them all. So he came home again and was unhappy, because he did so want to have a real Princess.

Poultry Meg was the only person who lived in the new stately dwelling that had been built for the fowls and ducks belonging to the manor house. It stood there where once the old knightly building had stood with its tower, its pointed gables, its moat, and its drawbridge.

The General's family lived on the first floor, and the Porter's family lived in the cellar. There was a vast distance between them - the whole first floor, as well as all the grades of society; but both families lived under the same roof, and their windows looked out in the same street and the same garden.

Beneath the tree of knowledge in the garden of paradise stood a rosebush. And here, in the first rose, a bird was born. His plumage was beautiful, his song glorious, and his flight was like the flashing of light. But when Eve plucked the fruit of the tree of knowledge, and she and Adam were driven from paradise, a spark fell from the flaming sword of the angel into the nest of the bird and set it afire. The bird perished in the flames, but from the red egg in the nest there flew a new bird, the only one of its kind, the one solitary phoenix bird.

Far away towards the east, in India, which seemed in those days the world's end, stood the Tree of the Sun; a noble tree, such as we have never seen, and perhaps never may see.

Aller à la fac quand on est le fils de Poséidon ? Une mission presque impossible. . Percy Jackson pensait vraiment en avoir fini avec les caprices des dieux… jusqu’à ce qu’il découvre que, pour être accepté à la fac, il doit rassembler pas moins de trois lettres de recommandation divines en échange de services rendus. Et des services à rendre, à l’Olympe, il y en a un paquet ! Heureusement pour Percy, Annabeth et Grover ne comptent pas le laisser seul. Leur première mission ?

Nils Holgersson ist eine bezaubernde Kindergeschichte von Selma Lagerlöf. Folge 46: Die Sage vom Härjetal mit Viola Gabor und Viktoria Gabor. Musik: Geoff Harvey. Nils Holgersson wurde unruhig, weil die Reisenden so lange auf dem Aussichtsturme blieben. Der Gänserich Martin konnte nicht kommen und ihn abholen, solange sie da waren, und er wusste ja, dass die Wildgänse Eile hatten, gen Süden zu ziehen.

There was once a king's son, no one had so many beautiful books as he. In them he could read of everything that had ever happened in this world, and he could see it all pictured in fine illustrations. He could find out about every race of people and every country, but there was not a single word about where to find the Garden of Paradise, and this, just this, was the very thing that he thought most about.

A cozy, richly imagined fantasy where a young selkie girl must save her family from a vengeful king. Brigit knows all the old fisherman songs and legends by heart: sea goddess, warriors, and people who are not quite human. But Brigit also knows the truth. It’s evident in the webbing between her fingers–webbing that must be cut. She’s the daughter of a selkie. A truth she must keep secret from everyone. But there is another secret growing in the village. A terrible one that will invite the wrath of the Great Selkie, bringing storm, sickness, and death.

In a Beinoni time here should be no war, no terrible illness, no crime. Even if that also means there won't be any great discoveries, any cures, anything extraordinary. Ezra believes that's worth fighting for—or is it?

You ought to have known Aunty; she was so lovely. And yet, to be more specific, she wasn't lovely in the usual sense of the word, but she was sweet and charming and funny in her own way - just the type to gossip about when one is in the mood to gossip and be facetious over someone. She should have been put in a play, just because she herself simply lived for the theater and everything that goes on in it. She was so very respectable, even if Agent Nob, whom Aunty called Snob, said she was stage-struck.