Children’s story
🌐 «When you are adults 🌎 | A Tale of Uncle Augustine about the Future»
The sun was slowly beginning to set behind the hills, tinting the sky in shades of gold, orange, and pink. The windmill turned peacefully, as if dancing in the breeze. Under the blackberry tree, Uncle Augustine settled into his wooden chair, his hat straight and a sprig of blackberry between his lips. The children, as usual, sat around him, knowing a special story was coming.
«Uncle Augustine,» Sofia asked, «what will the world be like when we grow up?»
The old man smiled tenderly. He looked up at the sunset-lit sky and adjusted his suspenders.
«That’s a good question,» he said. «The world is going to be different. You’ll have challenges we can barely imagine. But you’ll also have the opportunity to do wonderful things.»
The children leaned a little closer, attentive.
«For example,» he continued, «water will be scarcer.» In some places, every drop will be precious. You’ll have to learn to take care of it from a young age, like a treasure. When you wash your hands or water a plant, think about that.
«And the climate?» Tomás asked.
«It will change,» Uncle Agustín said calmly. «There will be more heat, more heavy rains, more droughts. But you, who are smart and brave, will find new ways of living. Perhaps you will invent roofs that collect water, or artificial trees that clean the air. But the most important thing will be to take care of the real trees, the rivers, and the mountains.»
«And the machines?» Leo said. «Are they going to do everything for us?»
«Many things, yes. The machines will be fast, but they won’t have a heart. They will be able to cook, drive, even write. But you will have something that no machine can copy: love, tenderness, friendship. That is what will make you indispensable.»
There was a brief silence, interrupted only by the hum of the mill.
«You’ll also find good people, but also some who won’t be,» said Uncle Agustín, becoming a little serious without losing his gentleness. «There will be those who promise you easy paths, effortless riches, brilliant things that seem good… but aren’t. Maybe they’ll offer you to cheat, to stop studying, or to try things that are harmful.»
The children lowered their gaze slightly, thoughtful.
«But I want you to remember something very important,» he continued, «there are no real shortcuts. Anything worthwhile takes time. And you have something that no one can take away from you: the strength to say ‘no’ when something isn’t right, and the perseverance to keep going when something is difficult.»
«What if we make mistakes?» Rita asked softly.
«You are going to make mistakes,» said Uncle Agustín, smiling again. «We all make mistakes. What matters is learning, getting up, and moving on. Falling isn’t failing. Failing is not trying again.»
The children looked at him with wide eyes, attentive to every word.
«There will be times when the world seems confusing, where there is a lot of noise, many opinions, and little truth. But if you learn to listen with your heart and think for yourselves, you will find the right path.»
The mill turned with a soft creak, as if it also approved of those words.
«When you are adults, you will make important decisions. Some will be difficult. But if you remember who you are, if you care for others, if you work with honesty and love… not only will things go well for you, but for everyone around you.»
Uncle Agustín looked each one in the eye and said firmly:
«I know you. I know what you are made of. You are the new humanity; you will be the ones who will build a fairer, kinder, more humane world. Not because everything will be easy… but because you will be ready.»
The children applauded, and Leo approached and hugged him without saying anything.
The windmill spun a little faster, the blackberries fell gently to the ground, and the sunset continued to paint the sky with hope.
✅ “Why Is the World the Way It Is? 🌎🤔 | A Truth Children Can Understand”🌎
The afternoon fell slowly over Grandma Maria’s garden. The windmill turned slowly, pushed by a gentle breeze that seemed to bring murmurs from far, far away. Under the blackberry tree, like every evening, Uncle Augustine sat on his wooden bench with the blackberry sprig in his mouth. Beside him, Grandma knitted patiently, her apron stained with the day’s harvest.
The children came running. Tomas, Sofia, and Mateo’s cheeks were flushed from playing, but something in their eyes told them they had come with questions bigger than the garden.
“Uncle Augustine,” Sofia said, still agitated, “at school the teacher talked about the world’s problems.” About the water, the climate, the disappearing animals… is all of this really happening?
The old man looked up at the sky, which was already beginning to fill with stars, and sighed.
«Yes. It’s happening… and you’re going to see it with your own eyes. Your world will be different from the one we had.»
«But why, Uncle?» asked Mateo. «Why, if there are so many beautiful things, are there also so many bad things?»
Grandmother stopped knitting and looked at the children tenderly.
«Because, my children… humanity is still very young. We’re just learning to live together without hurting each other.»
Uncle Agustín nodded.
«Look, if the history of the Earth were just one year… we humans would appear in the last minutes of December 31st. We’re a new species, we’re still growing. And like every child, we make many mistakes.»
«Mistakes like fighting?» asked Tomás.
«Exactly,» said Uncle. «We fight over water, over land, over ideas. We think a lot about ourselves, and very little about us. And that’s the real problem: we think we’re alone, but in reality, we’re all in the same boat.»
«And what will happen when we grow up?» Sofia sat closer to Grandma.
«You’ll have to make decisions,» she said. «Decide whether you want to continue down the path of selfishness, or walk together, as siblings. You’ll have to take care of the water, the land, and also take care of each other.»
«But we’re children…» said Mateo, a little fearfully.
«And that’s the most beautiful thing,» replied Uncle Agustín. «Because children can change the world. They’re not full of fixed ideas or fear. You can learn to share, to listen, to think of others.»
«What if no one else wants to change?» asked Tomás.
The mill turned gently, as if responding with its metallic chime.
«Then you will be like that mill,» Uncle said. «Even if the world doesn’t change immediately, you will continue turning, bringing water to the earth, refreshing hearts. One by one. Like the breeze that starts out light and one day becomes a wind that changes everything.»
Grandmother smiled.
«The world’s problems are not solved with technology or force alone. They are solved with awareness and love. And awareness begins when we stop thinking about «me» and start thinking about «us.»
The children fell silent.
The sky was filling with stars.
And in that moment, under the blackberry tree, they understood that they were not small.
They were part of something bigger.
They were the seed of the «new us.»
Tomás, terrified, almost fainted 😱 The Ghost of the Mill 🌪️👻 And what it was will make you laugh! 😂
That evening, like so many others in the orchard, the Chicago Air Motor windmill turned slowly in the gentle breeze. The blackberries were ripe, and the large tree offered us shade while the children settled at Uncle Augustine’s feet, who already had his twig in his mouth and his hat firmly on.
«Today I’m going to tell you something that happened to Tomas when he was younger,» he said with a mischievous smile. «Although he was very scared at first… now he laughs every time he remembers it.»
Tomás, a little older now, covered his face with his hands while the other children looked at him with curious eyes.
«A scary story, Uncle?» asked Rita, the smallest of the group.
«Well… it depends on how you look at it,» said Uncle Augustine with a chuckle. It turns out that one night, after everyone had gone to sleep, Tomás eavesdropped on the ghost stories his grandmother was telling his sisters. I was there too, of course. She talked about the “Boy with the Green Lamp,” the “Scarecrow of the Creek,” and even the “Faceless Horseman.”
Tomás quietly covered himself with a blanket in the living room, pretending to be asleep… but his eyes were wider than the ranch gate.
The children laughed. Tomás just nodded, remembering that night well.
“When Grandma finished telling the stories, she looked at me out of the corner of her eye and said loudly, ‘That boy is already asleep. You better send him home before the night watchman catches him.’ And I knew she was talking about Tomás. So I touched his shoulder, and he pretended to wake up.
“I didn’t want to leave!” Tomás protested. “The story was so good!”
—I know, boy! But the best part comes now. You see. The path from the mill to Tomás’s house isn’t very long, but that night there was no moon. Only the whistling of the wind and the creaking of the mill accompanied his steps. Tomás walked with his heart heavy, imagining the Faceless Horseman coming down the hill or the Scarecrow dragging his chains along the path.
The children’s eyes widened.
—He was walking quickly, looking around, when suddenly… he heard something. Tac, tac!… slow footsteps. He stopped. The mill turned once more, creak, and the wind fell silent. Then, in front of him, two enormous eyes shone in the darkness. Fixed. Round. Like two lit lanterns!
—AAAAH!—Rita shouted, hugging her cousin.
—Tomás shouted even louder!—Uncle Agustín said, laughing. He ran out like a bat out of hell, crossed Grandma’s yard, went through the door, and hid under the table, shaking like jelly.
«And what was it, Uncle?» a boy asked, without blinking.
«Well… we all went out with lamps, thinking the ghost himself had appeared. But do you know what it was?»
Everyone shook their heads, holding their breath.
«It was Pancracio!» said Uncle Agustín, bursting into laughter. «Don Eulogio’s donkey!» He had gotten loose and was strolling calmly around the mill. His eyes reflected the light from the house, and he looked like a ghost, but he was actually looking for fallen blackberries.
The laughter was not long in coming. Tomás laughed too, now without shame.
«Since then, Tomás isn’t afraid of ghosts anymore… but every time he sees a donkey, he cracks a little smile,» Uncle Agustín concluded with a wink.
The children applauded and asked for another story. But first, Grandma Doña María arrived with sweet bread and a pot of hot atole.
«And now, for a snack!» she said affectionately. «No story is ever enjoyed on an empty stomach.»
And so, amid laughter, blackberries, and bread rolls, that night was etched in the children’s hearts… like one of the many times fear dissolves with the light of truth.
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🎶 When Music Came Back to the Village 🎻 A Children’s Story about Dreams, Passion and Hope ✨
One sunny afternoon, Sofia and Tomas were playing hide-and-seek at Grandma’s house when, in the old attic, they found a dusty case. Intrigued, they opened it and inside they discovered a beautiful dark-wood violin.
«Look at this, Sofia!» exclaimed Tomas. «It’s a violin, but we’ve never seen Grandma play it.»
Filled with curiosity, they ran down to the kitchen, where Grandma was kneading sweet bread.
«Grandma!» said Sofia, showing the violin. «Is it yours?»
Grandma was silent for a moment. Her gaze scanned the instrument with a mixture of nostalgia and melancholy.
«Yes, it’s mine,» she replied softly. «Many years ago, I used to play it at all the village festivities.»
«How incredible!» said Tomas. «Why didn’t you ever tell us?»
Grandma sighed and put the wooden spoon back on the table.
«Because I don’t play it anymore. I made a promise a long time ago.»
The children looked at each other in confusion. That answer only increased their curiosity. Later, they went to find Uncle Augustine, who always had the best stories.
«When we were young,» he told them, «your grandmother was the best violinist in town. She played at all the parties and her music brought joy to everyone. But when your grandfather fell ill, she promised him she would never play without him again. She said that without his lifelong companion, music was meaningless.»
The children felt a lump in their throats.
«But, Uncle, Grandma is still here… and so is the music,» Sofia said determinedly.
The next day, they convinced Grandma to dust off the violin.
«I don’t know if I can still play,» she whispered, running her fingers over the strings.
«Just try,» Tomas urged. «Music shouldn’t stay asleep forever.»
But Grandma hesitated.
«It’s not just the promise,» she confessed. «My hands haven’t been as steady for years. Arthritis has made my fingers stiff and clumsy. I don’t know if I can move them like I used to.»
The children fell silent. They had never thought of that.
«But, Grandma…» Sofia took their hands tenderly. «What if you try little by little?»
Grandma sighed. She looked at the violin, then at her grandchildren, and finally smiled sweetly.
«Okay, I’ll try.»
She took a breath and placed the violin under her chin. With trembling hands, she slid the bow over the strings.
At first, the sound was faint, but soon a sweet, vibrant melody filled the air.
The sound floated through the streets, and the neighbors, hearing it, came out of their houses. Soon, the entire village was gathered around Grandmother, tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.
«It’s Doña Maria’s music!» exclaimed an old man. «I thought we’d never hear it again.»
The children watched in amazement as Grandmother closed her eyes, letting the music flow as if time had never passed.
As the last note faded, applause erupted in the plaza.
«It’s never too late to recover what we love,» whispered Uncle Agustín.
Grandmother smiled, the violin still in her hands.
«Maybe… it’s time to play more often.»
That night, music filled the village again, and Grandmother’s heart as well.
And from then on, every evening, the children ran to the courtyard to hear her play, reminding her that dreams never fade; they just wait for the right moment to shine again.
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🏺 A Buried Chest Found in the Orchard. 🗝️ It is Incredible 😲✨ What They Found Inside.
The windmill turned slowly in the afternoon breeze. Like every day, the children gathered under the large mulberry tree, waiting for stories from Uncle Augustine and Grandma. But that afternoon, instead of starting with a story, Uncle Augustine arrived with his shovel over his shoulder, his clothes covered in dirt.
«I won’t tell you a story today—because we’re going to live one!» he announced with a mysterious smile.
The children looked at each other, intrigued.
«What happened, Uncle?» asked Juanito, the most curious of the group.
«Well, it turns out that this morning, while I was helping Grandma in the garden, my shovel hit something hard under the ground. I dug a little, and guess what I found?»
«A dinosaur bone?» said Mariana, her eyes shining with excitement.
«No, an ancient chest!» replied Uncle Augustine.
The children gasped in surprise, and Grandma chimed in with a giggle.
«Many years ago, when I was a child, I heard my grandfather talk about a chest someone buried here in our garden. But over time, the story was lost… until today.»
The children jumped up and down excitedly.
«Let’s open it!» Ana exclaimed.
Uncle Augustine led them to the garden, where the chest was still half-buried. It was made of thick wood, with rusty iron fittings. On the lid, carved with a knife, were words almost erased by time:
«For those who know the true value of a treasure.»
«This is getting interesting…» Grandma murmured.
Very carefully, Uncle Augustine and the children removed the dirt and lifted the chest. But when they tried to open it…
«It’s locked!» Carlitos complained.
«Where’s the key?» —Laura asked, inspecting the chest.
Grandma crossed her arms, thoughtful.
—I remember my grandfather saying that ‘the key is not in the chest, but in the story.’
—That sounds like a riddle… —said Juanito.
—Maybe the answer lies in a story that great-grandfather knew! —Mariana clapped her hands.
Grandma smiled and gathered them all under the mulberry tree.
—Listen carefully. A long time ago, in this very land, lived a very hardworking man. His name was Don Julián, and it was said that he hid something valuable before leaving on his last journey. Some thought it was gold, others that it was jewels. But he left a clue in an old piece of paper.
—A piece of paper? —the children asked in chorus.
Grandma took a yellow envelope from her apron pocket.
—I found this years ago among my grandfather’s things. I never knew what it meant, until now.
With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and took out a crumpled piece of paper with a single sentence written on it:
“Where the sun gives its first embrace.”
The children fell silent, thinking.
“The mulberry tree!” Ana suddenly exclaimed.
“Of course! Every morning, the first rays of the sun illuminate the trunk of this tree,” Mariana confirmed.
They ran to the base of the mulberry tree and began to dig. After a few minutes, Carlitos felt something hard under his hands.
“There’s something here!”
They took out a small clay jar sealed with wax. Inside was a bronze key. The key to the chest!
With great excitement, they ran back to the orchard, and Grandma turned the key in the lock. The lid creaked as it opened, and the children held their breath.
But instead of gold coins or jewels, they found…
Old books, letters, a diary, and a handful of seeds wrapped in a cloth.
«Is this the treasure?» asked Juanito, puzzled.
Uncle Agustín took one of the books and leafed through it carefully.
«Look at this. It’s Don Julián’s diary.»
Grandma took one of the letters and read it aloud:
«If you find this chest, you have already found the true treasure. Here I keep the stories of my family, the lessons of the fields, and the seeds that must continue to grow in this land. Wealth is not in gold, but in what we can share with those who come after us.»
The children fell silent, absorbing those words.
«This is a real treasure,» Grandma said with a smile. «Because memories and stories are worth more than gold.»
Uncle Agustín gently closed the book.
«And what are we going to do with the seeds?» asked Carlitos.
«Plant them in the garden, so they’ll grow and feed future generations,» replied Grandma.
That afternoon, everyone helped sow the seeds. And as the windmill slowly turned in the wind, Uncle Agustín looked at the children with pride.
«See? Today you didn’t just hear a story. You were part of it.»
The children smiled, feeling that that day, in the garden, they had found something much more valuable than a chest full of coins.
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