mystery for kids
The Mysterious Whistle of the Mill 
Ghosts or Something More? 
| Stories for Children with Intrigue and Values
The wind blew gently in Grandma’s orchard, swaying the branches of the mulberry tree and slowly turning the blades of the old windmill. Everything seemed calm until, one afternoon, a strange sound began to be heard in the air.
«It was a strange and mysterious noise!» the windmill whistled in a disturbing way.
The children, who were playing near the well, fell silent. They looked at each other in amazement and a little fear.
«Did you hear that?» asked Mateo, with wide eyes.
«It sounds like a lament…» whispered Ana, hugging her brother.
«Maybe the windmill is haunted,» said Luis, with a trembling voice.
They ran to where Uncle Augustine was, who greeted them with a calm smile, sitting under the shade of the mulberry tree.
«Uncle Augustine, the windmill is whistling!» they all said at once.
The old peasant took off his hat, scratched his beard, and looked at the windmill with curiosity.
“That’s not a ghost thing, children,” he said calmly. “If the windmill sounds strange, there must be a reason. Let’s investigate.”
With a firm step, he walked towards the windmill, followed by the children who, although still afraid, trusted that their uncle would know what to do.
The sound grew louder as they approached. Uncle Augustine watched the slowly turning blades and then looked up at the top of the tower.
“It seems that the sound is coming from up there,” he said. “Matthew, bring me the ladder.”
Matthew ran to get it and, with the help of the others, they leaned it against the structure of the windmill. Uncle Augustine climbed carefully, holding firmly on each step.
When he reached the top, between one of the wooden cracks, something moved.
“Aha!” he exclaimed. “Here is our mysterious whistle.”
The children waited anxiously below.
“What is it, Uncle Augustine?” cried Anna.
Uncle Augustine gently pulled a small bundle out from between the windmill blades and held it in his hands. As they lowered it, the children saw with surprise that it was a small owl, with wide eyes and ruffled feathers.
“It’s an owl!” exclaimed Luis. “How did it get there?”
“It seems that it got trapped when it was looking for a safe place to sleep,” explained Uncle Augustine. “Its wings were in a bad position, and when the wind passed through the gap where it was trapped, the blades moved and the little owl moaned in pain and made the windmill whistle.
The children looked at the little owl tenderly. It was scared, but healthy.
“We have to cure it,” said Anna.
“That’s right,” nodded Uncle Augustine. “But first, we have to make sure it’s calm.”
They prepared a small straw nest in a box and gave it water. Now, the little owl seemed to be doing well. Then, when the sun began to set and the sky turned orange, they took the owl to the nearby forest.
“Come on, little friend,” Mateo whispered as he opened the box.
The owl blinked a couple of times and, with a soft flap of its wings, rose into the air until it landed on a branch. From there, it looked at the children and, as if it understood what they had done for it, it let out a soft hoot before disappearing into the trees.
The children felt happy and proud.
“Today we learned something very important,” said Uncle Augustine, adjusting his hat. “Sometimes, mysteries are not what they seem. And when we work together, we can solve any problem.”
The children smiled and looked at the old windmill, which now turned silently, moved by the wind, without any more mysterious whistles and noises.
And so, in Grandma’s garden, another day full of adventures and learning ended.
A Magic Crystal in Danger… The Children and Uncle Augustín Must Protect It! 
Under the starry sky of the orchard, the old Chicago Air Motor windmill slowly turned in the night breeze. For generations, that windmill had hidden a secret that only Uncle Augustine knew: inside it, hidden behind a secret compartment, there was a special crystal that absorbed the light of the stars and reflected it in magical sparkles.
That night, while the children listened to Uncle Augustine tell stories under the mulberry tree, a strange sound was heard in the windmill. Ramiro, the most curious of the group, ran to see what was happening and saw shadows moving between the metal structure.
“Uncle Augustine! Someone is in the windmill!” Ramiro shouted urgently.
Uncle Augustine immediately stood up, adjusting his hat.
“Good heavens! It seems they have come for the crystal,” he murmured with a frown.
The children looked at him in astonishment.
“What crystal, uncle?” asked Anita.
“One that has the brightness of the stars and a special power. It is a very old treasure that has remained hidden so that it does not fall into the wrong hands,” answered Uncle Augustine.
Without wasting time, the group crept up to the mill. Among the shadows, they saw three men dressed in dark cloaks trying to force the wooden gate.
“We must stop them!” whispered Miguel.
“But we are just children…” said Carolina, worried.
Uncle Augustine smiled and crouched down to their height.
“When the stars shine together, they light up even the darkest night. You don’t have to be big or strong to do the right thing. We just have to work as a team.”
The children looked at each other and nodded with determination. Quickly, they came up with a plan: while some threw blackberries to distract the thieves, others loosened the ropes of an old flour sack on top of the mill.
“Now!” shouted Ramiro.
The criminals were covered in white flour and began to cough without being able to see anything. In the midst of the commotion, Uncle Augustine took a whistle out of his pocket and blew it loudly. Immediately, the dogs from the orchard came running and barking, causing the thieves to flee in terror.
When everything calmed down, the children entered the mill and saw the crystal hidden in its secret compartment. Its light shone brighter than ever.
“We did it!” exclaimed Carolina.
Uncle Augustine smiled proudly.
“Because we work together, like the stars in the sky.”
The children nodded, understanding that the true magic of the crystal was not only in its brightness, but in the union and shared effort.
From then on, every night they gathered under the mulberry tree, looking at the mill and remembering that, as long as they were together, nothing and no one could extinguish their light.
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