bambie1984

THE BAKER'S DAUGHTER

Not so long ago, in a land not so far away, there lived a daft little girl named Maggie Mapleflower. She was the daughter of a somewhat wealthy baker. Every night after working, her father would bring home lots of goodies from his shop. There were tempting pastries of all varieties for Maggie to taste.

One night, Mr. Mapleflower came home wearing a frown. Lines etched his face and he looked as if he would collapse. His wife helped him into a chair. Maggie climbed onto his lap and waited for her treats.

“Sorry, Maggie,” said her father, “but I have nothing for you today.”

Unbelieving, Maggie searched his pockets. She found not a single crumb.

“Where are the muffins?” she asked.

“There aren’t any,” replied her father.

“Where are the biscuits?”

“There aren’t any of those either.”

“Where are the cookies and cakes and pies?”

“There are none of those tonight.”

“The town folk have fallen on hard times,” explained her mother. “They haven’t the money to buy your father’s goods. And you father hasn’t the supplies to bake extra treats.”

Maggie pondered this for a moment. “Well, that’s not my concern,” she plainly said and then scurried off to bed.”

The next day Maggie was walking to school when she came across a boy. He had golden hair and green-blue eyes. He was weeding out Mrs. Tweedle’s garden. Now, Mrs. Tweedle was a mean, old lady who didn’t like anybody. Especially little boys and girls. Curious, young Maggie asked the boy what he was doing.

“I’m taking care of Mrs. Tweedle’s garden,” he told her.

“Why?”

“Because the weeds are killing all the flowers.”

“So?”

“So, flowers need lots of room and sun if they are to grow. Do you want to help me?”

Maggie looked at the boy and then at Mrs. Tweedle’s flower garden. “No, it’s not my concern.” She continued on her way.

Maggie was the last one to arrive at school. All the girls were huddled in one corner of the room. A boy the students had nicknamed Sir-Spits-A-Lot was using them for target practice while his best friend, Georgie, was tormenting them with a bullfrog.

Maggie glanced at the boys then at the girls and went to her desk. A spit wad narrowly missed the back of her head. The girls gasped.

“That almost hit you!” one of them cried.

“It’s not my concern,” was Maggie’s reply.

At that moment, Georgie lost his grip on the frog. It fell to the floor with a plop. The girls shrieked and scattered as it hopped toward them.

“Maggie, the frog is loose!” one of them cried.

“It’s not my concern,” she said.

As was everything in life, not her concern. The days passed by and Maggie cared less and less about the events happening all around her.

Then one day, her mother sent her to the corner market for a carton of milk and a loaf of bread. On her way home, she took a shortcut across the creek. When she reached the bridge, a troll jumped out and stood in her way. Startled, Maggie screamed and almost fell into the creek. She gathered herself and gaped at the troll. She had never seen such a creature. He was about half her size and his clothes were ragged and smelled of something terrible. He had a long, round nose, large ears and wide-set eyes that peered through tangles of brown hair. He had a hunched back and wore no shoes. He hobbled circles around Maggie, sniffed her hair and chuckled.

“Hmmm, a small child!” he said in a croaky voice. “And you want to cross my bridge, yes?”

Maggie nodded.

“Ah! And what will small child give Gareth?” said the troll, for that was his name.

“G-give you?”

“Yes. For letting small child cross bridge, small child must give Gareth something in return.”

“But I have nothing to give.”

The troll sniffed the air. “Mmmm! Is that fresh baked bread Gareth smell? Gareth awfully hungry. Haven’t eaten in days.” He rubbed his stomach.

“That’s not my concern,” said Maggie and tightened her grip on the basket she was carrying.

The troll gave her a wary look and stole a peek into the basket. “Mmmm! Is that a carton of milk Gareth see? Gareth awfully thirsty. Haven’t drank in days.” He smacked his lips.

“That’s not my concern,” said Maggie more forcefully. She turned back the way she had come.

“Small child!” the troll shouted after her. “What say you, I give you your hearts desire?”

“My heart desires nothing!”

“Ah, but everyone wants something.” The troll fell in step beside her and she was startled by his sudden appearance but she didn’t break her stride. “Gareth live long time, see many people. He be fool not to know this. Tell me, what small child want most?”

Maggie stopped and faced him. “Well, I really would like a slice of my father’s scrumptious cherry pie.”

He grinned, displaying a row of yellow, decaying teeth. He clapped his hands twice and a cherry pie appeared on the path at Maggie’s feet. It was warm, as if it was fresh from the oven. She could not resist its enticing, sweet scent. Dropping to her knees, she began scooping the pie into her mouth using both hands. The troll chuckled and retrieved the basket she had so carelessly dropped.

When the pie was gone, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and stood up. “Now return my basket so I can be on my way.”

“Ha! On your way to where?”

“Home, of course.”

The troll laughed again. “No home for someone as hideous as small child be.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

He pointed to the creek. Maggie looked at her reflection in the water and her eyes widened with fright. She looked like a troll!

Hearing laughter, Maggie spun around. Gareth had changed as well. He had transformed into a little boy with golden hair and green-blue eyes.

“But how? Why?” she cried.

“Maggie Mapleflower was a selfish, little girl. She cared about no one but herself and now she only has herself to keep her company. Until the day comes when a child more fool than she shall take her place.”

“But what will I do until then? How will I survive?”

“That is not my concern.” Gareth turned with basket in hand and skipped away.

__________________
"That which separated and distnguished me from others, mattered. That which no one else said or could say, was what I had to say."
- Andre Gide

Knocking

Ha ha! Very nice. The repetitiveness is good for a children's story. The troll on a bridge thing isn't very original, though.

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Would you care to read these?
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I hope you have a wonderful day.

bambie1984

Yeah, we've all read a troll-on-a-bridge story or two.

The story started as a writing exercise. I was suppose to write a one-page fairytale featuring an apathetic character and "The Baker's Daughter" is what I got.

__________________
"That which separated and distnguished me from others, mattered. That which no one else said or could say, was what I had to say."
- Andre Gide

Slartibartfast

Quote:

Not so long ago, in a land not so far away, there lived a daft little girl named Maggie Mapleflower. She was the daughter of a somewhat wealthy baker. Every night after working, her father would bring home lots of goodies from his shop. There were tempting pastries of all varieties for Maggie to taste.

I would like to combine two sentences in the first bit: She was the daughter of a somewhat wealthy baker, and every night after working, her father would bring home lots of goodies from his shop.


I don't have time at the moment to go through all of it, but I wanted to strengthen the opening a bit--at least, in my opinion.

UNDEAD

From experience with my younger sister, this story would not be very good for young children. If the age group you are aiming for is about 10 and over, then ignore this.

THE BAKER'S DAUGHTER

Not so long ago, in a land not so far away, there lived a daft little girl named Maggie Mapleflower. She was the daughter of a somewhat wealthy baker. Every night after working, her father would bring home lots of goodies from his shop. There were tempting pastries of all varieties for Maggie to taste.

*This word does not belong in a children's story.


One night, Mr. Mapleflower came home wearing a frown. Lines etched his face and he looked as if he would collapse. His wife helped him into a chair. Maggie climbed onto his lap and waited for her treats.

“Sorry, Maggie,” said her father, “but I have nothing for you today.”

Unbelieving, Maggie searched his pockets. She found not a single crumb.

“Where are the muffins?” she asked.

“There aren’t any,” replied her father.

“Where are the biscuits?”

“There aren’t any of those either.”

“Where are the cookies and cakes and pies?”

“There are none of those tonight.”

“The town folk have fallen on hard times,” explained her mother. “They haven’t the money to buy your father’s goods. And you father hasn’t the supplies to bake extra treats.”

Maggie pondered this for a moment. “Well, that’s not my concern,” she plainly said and then scurried off to bed.”

*you should find a beter way to word this. In a children story, this is a concept that they would not understand.

The next day Maggie was walking to school when she came across a boy. He had golden hair and green-blue eyes. He was weeding out Mrs. Tweedle’s garden. Now, Mrs. Tweedle was a mean, old lady who didn’t like anybody. Especially little boys and girls. Curious, young Maggie asked the boy what he was doing.

“I’m taking care of Mrs. Tweedle’s garden,” he told her.

“Why?”

“Because the weeds are killing all the flowers.”

“So?”

“So, flowers need lots of room and sun if they are to grow. Do you want to help me?”

Maggie looked at the boy and then at Mrs. Tweedle’s flower garden. “No, it’s not my concern.” She continued on her way.

Maggie was the last one to arrive at school. All the girls were huddled in one corner of the room. A boy the students had nicknamed Sir-Spits-A-Lot was using them for target practice while his best friend, Georgie, was tormenting them with a bullfrog.

*this kind of phrase in a story can teach children how to treat each other, you should be careful with this.


Maggie glanced at the boys then at the girls and went to her desk. A spit wad narrowly missed the back of her head. The girls gasped.

“That almost hit you!” one of them cried.

“It’s not my concern,” was Maggie’s reply.

At that moment, Georgie lost his grip on the frog. It fell to the floor with a plop. The girls shrieked and scattered as it hopped toward them.

“Maggie, the frog is loose!” one of them cried.

“It’s not my concern,” she said.

As was everything in life, not her concern. The days passed by and Maggie cared less and less about the events happening all around her.

*again, concepts that a child will not understand.


Then one day, her mother sent her to the corner market for a carton of milk and a loaf of bread. On her way home, she took a shortcut across the creek. When she reached the bridge, a troll jumped out and stood in her way. Startled, Maggie screamed and almost fell into the creek. She gathered herself and gaped at the troll. She had never seen such a creature. He was about half her size and his clothes were ragged and smelled of something terrible. He had a long, round nose, large ears and wide-set eyes that peered through tangles of brown hair. He had a hunched back and wore no shoes. He hobbled circles around Maggie, sniffed her hair and chuckled.

*try actually telling what he smells like...(rotten cheese, for example). this will help a child pictue the story better. word choice here


“Hmmm, a small child!” he said in a croaky voice. “And you want to cross my bridge, yes?”

Maggie nodded.

“Ah! And what will small child give Gareth?” said the troll, for that was his name.

“G-give you?”

“Yes. For letting small child cross bridge, small child must give Gareth something in return.”

*the troll should not be speaking in third person. Children tend to learn alot from books, and things like this lead to misunderstanding grammer and speach errors.


“But I have nothing to give.”

The troll sniffed the air. “Mmmm! Is that fresh baked bread Gareth smell? Gareth awfully hungry. Haven’t eaten in days.” He rubbed his stomach.

*third person again


“That’s not my concern,” said Maggie and tightened her grip on the basket she was carrying.

The troll gave her a wary look and stole a peek into the basket. “Mmmm! Is that a carton of milk Gareth see? Gareth awfully thirsty. Haven’t drank in days.” He smacked his lips.

*try having a narrator in the story. This information should be told by someone who isn't in the story...EG: Gareth the troll hadn't had anything to drink in many days, and was very thirsty.


“That’s not my concern,” said Maggie more forcefully. She turned back the way she had come.

“Small child!” the troll shouted after her. “What say you, I give you your hearts desire?”

*re-word this part, it seams a bit wrong for children.


“My heart desires nothing!”

“Ah, but everyone wants something.” The troll fell in step beside her and she was startled by his sudden appearance but she didn’t break her stride. “Gareth live long time, see many people. He be fool not to know this. Tell me, what small child want most?”

Maggie stopped and faced him. “Well, I really would like a slice of my father’s scrumptious cherry pie.”

*try delicious


He grinned, displaying a row of yellow, decaying teeth. He clapped his hands twice and a cherry pie appeared on the path at Maggie’s feet. It was warm, as if it was fresh from the oven. She could not resist its enticing, sweet scent. Dropping to her knees, she began scooping the pie into her mouth using both hands. The troll chuckled and retrieved the basket she had so carelessly dropped.

*should be "smiled, showing his yellow, rotten teeth." Woah, what kind of kids are going to read this book? What is enticing, that is what they will say.
this doesn't feel right.

When the pie was gone, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and stood up. “Now return my basket so I can be on my way.”

“Ha! On your way to where?”

“Home, of course.”

The troll laughed again. “No home for someone as hideous as small child be.”


*this is completely the wrong type of stuff you want in here.

“Whatever do you mean?”

He pointed to the creek. Maggie looked at her reflection in the water and her eyes widened with fright. She looked like a troll!

Hearing laughter, Maggie spun around. Gareth had changed as well. He had transformed into a little boy with golden hair and green-blue eyes.

*change to "the"


“But how? Why?” she cried.

*don't need this


“Maggie Mapleflower was a selfish, little girl. She cared about no one but herself and now she only has herself to keep her company. Until the day comes when a child more fool than she shall take her place.”

*not necessary to get the point across. maybe reword it?


“But what will I do until then? How will I survive?”

*should be "what will I eat or dink?"


“That is not my concern.” Gareth turned with basket in hand and skipped away.

*try changing this to "i don't care"



This story has some good ideas, but needs to be reworked into somethign that a child could actually read. My sister is six and reads almost anything, but this would confuse her. This has some promise though.

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bambie1984

Well, thank you very much for your useful comments. I will go back and rewrite. I appreciate your help.

__________________
"That which separated and distnguished me from others, mattered. That which no one else said or could say, was what I had to say."
- Andre Gide