Moral-Lesson

Once upon a time, in a bright green forest, there lived a little hare named Hazel. Hazel was the most popular animal in the whole wood. She was cheerful and kind, and she had a bright smile for everyone she met. Because she was so nice, all the other animals claimed to be her very best friend. Every morning the horse neighed happily when he saw her. The bull gave a friendly nod. The goat bleated a warm hello. The ram waved, and the little calf trotted along beside her. ...

An old farmer once kept in his yard an ox, a ram, a goose, a chicken, and a pig. With guests coming for dinner over the holidays, he said to his wife, “Old woman, we shall need meat for the holidays. I’ll kill the chicken in the morning.” The chicken, who happened to be listening at the door, fled to the forest as fast as his legs could carry him. When the farmer came out before sunrise to wring his neck, there was no chicken anywhere to be found. ...

Once upon a time, in a sunny orchard surrounded by singing birds and buzzing bees, there was a wooden basket filled with shiny red apples. The apples were proud of their smooth skins and sweet smells. They had been picked that morning and placed gently in the basket, ready to be taken to the market. But among these lovely apples was one that was not quite right. This apple, named Ricky, had a dark spot near his stem. He had fallen from the tree a little too early and landed on a rock. Though he looked mostly fine, the inside of Ricky had started to go soft and mushy. ...

Once upon a time, in a village on the edge of a great forest, there lived a fox and a wolf. They were not exactly friends, but sometimes they travelled together. You see, the fox was clever, but not very strong. The wolf was strong, but not very clever. And so, they often used each other’s company to get what they wanted, especially food. The wolf was much bigger, and he often bullied the fox. “Go and find me something to eat,” the wolf growled. “Or else I shall make you my supper instead!” ...

The sun was blazing in the sky, and not a single cloud floated above the forest. The trees stood still, their leaves drooping from the heat. Birds hid in the shade. Streams were dry. Puddles had vanished. Flap-flap-flap! A black crow named Kuro soared over the treetops. His throat was dry, and his wings felt heavy. “Caw. I need water,” he croaked, blinking against the sunlight. “Just one drop!” He flew past sleepy owls, over dusty fields, and across a patch of thorns. But there was no sign of water anywhere. ...

Once upon a time there was a little boy named Leo. Leo was six years old, and he had just started Primary One. He loved his new school uniform, his shiny pencil case, and drawing rocket ships. But Leo had a big problem. He was terribly shy. He was so frightened of speaking up that whenever he needed help, his throat would tighten like a knot and his voice would disappear altogether. ...

Once upon a time, in a quiet green village, there lived an old farmer named Hari. He had four sons: Ravi, Devi, Kiri, and Movi. The brothers had grown up strong and smart. They helped their father in the fields every day, digging soil, planting seeds, and carrying heavy baskets of crops. But there was one big problem: they argued all the time. “You stepped on my row of carrots again!” Ravi would shout. ...

Once upon a time, in the heart of the Whispering Woods, lived a Raven named Barnaby. Barnaby was a clever bird. He could solve puzzles, mimic the sound of the wind, and find the shiniest bottle caps hidden in the grass. His feathers were a deep, glossy black, the kind of black that looked like a velvet sky just before the stars come out. But Barnaby didn’t like his feathers. He thought they were “dull” and “dusty.” ...

A long time ago, in the valley of the Brahmaputra River in India, there lived six men who loved to boast about their wit and their learning. Though they were no longer young, and though all six had been blind since birth, they would compete with one another to see who could tell the tallest story. Every evening, when the sun was setting behind the palms and the air was full of wood smoke and spices, one of the old men would begin a new tale. ...

Once upon a time, in a high stone castle overlooking the misty mountains of Switzerland, there lived an old count. The count was a proud man who cared a great deal about power and grand titles. He had only one son, a quiet boy named Swiss. But to the count’s great disappointment, Swiss was not clever with swords or with strategy. Whatever his father tried to teach him, nothing seemed to stay in the boy’s head. ...