Uncle Agustin
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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Mysterious Lights at the Mill 
| Ghost or Magic? Find out with Uncle Augustin and Grandma
The nights in Grandma’s orchard were usually quiet and peaceful. The distant chirping of crickets, the murmur of the wind through the trees, and the soft creaking of the old Chicago Air Motor windmill created a melody that lulled anyone to sleep. But that night, something was different.
Sofía was the first to notice. Peeking out the window, she saw flickering lights near the windmill, as if a pair of floating eyes were surrounding it. She called to her brother Tomás, and together, they stared in amazement at the figures that seemed to dance in the air.
«It’s a ghost!» Tomás whispered, his eyes wide open.
«What if it’s the spirit of the windmill?» Sofía added, a little scared.
The two of them ran to where Uncle Agustín was playing his guitar under the mulberry tree. Hearing them, he put his instrument aside and frowned with an amused smile.
«A ghost in the mill? I certainly didn’t expect that tonight,» she said as she stood up.
Grandmother, who was coming out with a cup of tea, also heard the story.
«Come on, children. Let’s all see what this mystery is,» she suggested calmly.
Together they walked with lanterns toward the mill, which creaked softly with each gust of wind. The lights were still there, moving as if dancing to the rhythm of the air. But as they got a little closer, Uncle Augustine burst out laughing.
«It’s not a ghost, children! They’re fireflies!»
«Fireflies?» asked Sofia, approaching curiously.
«That’s right,» Grandmother confirmed. «A whole family, it seems. And look how they fly, as if drawing shapes in the air!»
The children watched, spellbound. The tiny lights joined together in circles, spirals, and shapes that at times resembled a smiling face, a star, or even the outline of the windmill itself.
«That’s why we thought it was a ghost!» exclaimed Tomas. «How incredible!»
Uncle Augustine crouched down beside them and murmured,
«Fireflies have a special language with their lights. Sometimes they use it to communicate with each other. Maybe this family is celebrating something.»
«What if we do something to protect them?» suggested Sofia. «I don’t want anyone to scare them or try to lure them away from the windmill.»
Grandma smiled tenderly.
«That’s a wonderful idea. We could put up a sign that says: ‘Home of fireflies. Do not disturb.'»
And so they did. The children, with Uncle Augustine’s help, painted a small sign that they placed next to the base of the windmill. They also looked in Grandma’s old books for information on how to care for these insects.
The next day, when the sun rose, the children carefully explored the garden, discovering tiny fireflies still dormant on the leaves and trunks. They prepared small spaces for them with shade, water, and flowers to make them feel comfortable.
From that night on, the dancing lights became a nightly spectacle in the garden. The children invited their friends, who came with blankets to sit and watch the firefly ballet under the stars. It became a tradition to listen to stories told by Grandma while Uncle Agustín played his guitar to the rhythm of the wind.
And the old mill, instead of being a mysterious place, became the most magical corner of the garden.
Because, as Uncle Agustín said, «Sometimes ghosts aren’t scary. They’re just made of light and little wings that want to tell a bright story.»
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#kidsStory #windmill #UncleAgustin #Grandma #fireflies #mysteriousLights
Who really was Don Ezequiel? Children Uncovered the Truth in his Workshop 
Make yourselves comfortable, children, because today I will tell you something that few in this town know. It is the story of a man who, like this windmill you see turning, was always on the move, helping others without anyone noticing.
It was a day like this, with the sun shining brightly and the wind playing among the leaves of the mulberry tree. You, unruly as always, were running near the windmill when, accidentally, you broke one of my chairs. Do you remember?
Oh, Uncle Augustine! said some of the children with worried faces. «It wasn’t our intention!»
Of course, children are always getting into mischief. But instead of getting angry, I proposed a solution:
We went to Don Ezequiel. He knows more about wood than anyone.
Their faces changed at that moment remembering that thing about the broken chair. Don Ezequiel was not someone they wanted to deal with. He is an old man, quiet and unfriendly, it is said that no one has seen him smile in years.
When we arrived at his carpentry shop, he looked at us out of the corner of his eye and grunted:
And now what do you want?
I told him what had happened to the chair, and he, after examining it, said:
I can fix it… but these boys are going to help me.
So there you stayed, with your hands full of sawdust, learning to sand and join the pieces, but while you were working, I saw something interesting: your eyes began to scan the workshop.
There, among saws and boards, there were things you did not expect to see: a new crib waiting to be delivered, a carefully repaired table, and in a corner, a box full of hand-carved toys.
Who are all these toys for? —Sofia asked.
Don Ezequiel sighed, as if the question surprised him.
When someone needs them, I give them to them, he answered simply.
And then you understood. You remembered the boy who received a rocking horse when his family lost everything in a fire, or Mrs. Marta, who out of nowhere had a new door after the storm.
Was it you?, Tomás asked the old carpenter, with his eyes wide open.
He just nodded and continued sanding the chair, as if it were nothing important.
That afternoon, when you finished, you not only brought back a well-repaired chair, but a secret that no one had ever been able to see: the serious and quiet man of the town had spent his life helping everyone in silence.
That was how Mr. Ezequiel, the grumpy old carpenter, became someone unforgettable in this town.
And that, boys, is something you should never forget: sometimes, the people who seem most distant, are the ones who have given the most without expecting anything in return.
And that’s life, children, said Uncle Augustine as the wind played with the leaves of the tree. Sometimes, the biggest hearts are the ones that make the least noise.
The windmill turned slowly, as if it also agreed with his words. The children remained silent, looking towards Don Ezequiel’s carpentry shop in the distance, as if they suddenly saw it with different eyes.
Now, go and think about what you have learned today, continued Uncle Augustine. And the next time you pass by someone who seems serious and quiet, remember that behind every pair of wrinkled hands, there is a story waiting to be discovered.
He leaned forward, patted his old chair, the same one they had broken, and with a knowing smile, added:
And don’t forget to say hello to Don Ezequiel.
The children laughed softly, and one by one, they got up to go home. But something had changed in them. That afternoon, their steps were slower, as if they had learned something more valuable in their hearts than just repairing a chair.
And Uncle Augustine, with the windmill turning behind him and the mulberry tree rustling in the wind, watched them go with a quiet satisfaction, knowing that another experience had served its purpose.
Something Strange Happened in the Enchanted Forest! 
A Children’s Story You Can’t Miss
In the heart of the enchanted forest, where the trees whispered secrets and the brook sang sweet melodies, peace and harmony reigned among the animals and the children. However, one day, a dark shadow appeared between the ancient trunks. His name was Sombrío, a cunning black fox with a piercing gaze and poisonous words.
Sombrío did not attack with claws or fangs, but with lies and rumors. With his honeyed voice, he whispered doubts in the ears of the animals: «The owl thinks he is wiser than everyone,» «The rabbits monopolize the best food,» «The deer do not want to share the clearing.» Soon, mistrust spread like poison ivy, and the joy of the forest began to fade.
The children, who used to play among the trees and learn from the animals, noticed the sadness in the air. It was then that they ran to find Uncle Augustine, the old storyteller who always had a solution for everything.
Sitting under his mulberry tree, Uncle Augustine listened to them attentively and stroked his mustache thoughtfully. «When someone sows discord, you have to pull out the root of the problem without using violence,» he said in his calm voice. «We are going to give back to the forest what Sombrío has stolen from it: trust and friendship.»
With cunning, the children came up with a plan. They organized a big meeting in the clearing and, one by one, each animal shared what they had heard. It was then that they realized that Sombrío had deceived them all. With laughter and hugs, they understood that unity was stronger than any lie.
Sombrío, seeing that his plan was failing, tried to sow more doubts, but no one believed him. Unmasked, the black fox understood that in a forest where truth reigned, his tricks had no power. Without enemies or followers, he left with his tail between his legs.
The forest regained its joy, and the children learned a valuable lesson: words can build or destroy, and when used wisely, they can overcome even the deepest darkness.
Uncle Augustine smiled with satisfaction and, with his sprig of blackberries in his mouth, said: «And so, boys, harmony returned to our beloved enchanted forest.»
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Uncle Augustine and the Magic Blackberries | A Story for Children full of Values and Hope 
In Grandma��s orchard, under the old blackberry tree, Uncle Augustine sat on his bench as the village children gathered around him. It was a special summer night, with the full moon lighting up the sky and the blackberries shining like little stars. Uncle Augustine, with his straight-brimmed hat and his sprig of wheat in his mouth, began to tell a story that he said few knew.
“A long time ago, these magical blackberries not only glowed at night, but they also had a special purpose. Once, when the forest was even denser and the paths were difficult to navigate, a group of children got lost while looking for wild flowers for a festival.”
The children watched him in fascination as he continued. “When night fell, darkness enveloped them and they began to feel afraid. But then, something wonderful happened. The blackberries on the old tree began to break off and float in the air like little lights. They moved slowly, lighting the way and guiding the children back to the orchard, where their families were anxiously waiting for them.”
Uncle Augustine paused, looking at the children with a smile. “And do you know why the blackberries helped them? Because they never gave up. As they walked through the darkness, they stuck together, sang for encouragement, and trusted that they would find their way.”
One of the children asked excitedly, “Can the blackberries still do that, Uncle Augustine?”
Uncle Augustine smiled his classic warm smile. “Only if there is someone with a pure heart who truly needs it. The magical blackberries not only lead the way in the darkness, but they also remind us of the importance of hope and helping each other. When we are lost, physically or emotionally, there is always a light that can guide us. Often, that light is within ourselves.”
The children looked at the tree in wonder, as if they expected the berries to start glowing at that very moment. And even though they didn’t, something special happened: a gentle breeze moved the branches of the tree, as if the tree itself approved of Uncle Augustine’s story.
“And now, boys,” said Uncle Augustine as he stood up, “it’s time for you to go back to your homes. Don’t forget that hope and unity are the brightest lights you can have in your lives.”
With one last look at the berry tree, the children said goodbye, promising to come back soon for another story.
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The Mill and the Flower of Wishes | Children’s Story about Generosity and Kindness
It was a moonlit night in Grandma��s orchard. The Chicago Air Motor windmill, its metal blades shining in the silver light, was turning gently, as it always did when the north wind blew. But that night something different happened.
The children, gathered under the mulberry tree with Uncle Augustine, noticed a peculiar glow in the windmill. “Look!” exclaimed Sofia, the youngest of the group, pointing at the blades that were beginning to turn faster than usual.
The old farmer, with his straight-brimmed hat and a wheat straw between his lips, slowly stood up. “Something special is happening, children. That windmill only turns like that when it wants to tell us something important,” he said as the children followed him curiously.
Suddenly, a gentle breeze laden with a sweet aroma filled the air. Small luminous seeds began to fall from the blades of the windmill, shining like tiny stars. The seeds floated gently before settling on the ground.
“What are these seeds, Uncle?” “These are the seeds of the Wish Flower, a magical plant that only blooms on nights like this,” asked Mateo, the eldest of the group, carefully picking up one of the lights.
Uncle Augustine smiled, his eyes reflecting the wisdom of the years. “These are the seeds of the Wish Flower, a magical plant that only blooms on nights like this. But be careful, children, it is not just any flower. It only sprouts if it is planted with generosity and if the wish you make is not selfish.”
Intrigued, the children began to carefully pick up the seeds. “Can we plant them now?” asked Sofia, excitedly.
“Of course,” replied Uncle Augustine, leading them to a small corner of the garden where the soil was softer. With careful hands, each child planted a seed and closed their eyes to make their wish.
Mateo wished that his father would come home early from work so they could play together. Sofia asked that her friend, who had been sick for weeks, could go back to school. The other children also made wishes full of kindness and love.
At dawn, the garden was filled with exclamations. The seeds had germinated, and in their place grew beautiful, brightly colored flowers, each radiating a soft light.
Uncle Augustine gathered them under the mulberry tree. “Do you see what happens when you plant with generosity? The Wish Flower not only fulfills what you ask for, it also lights up the hearts of those who grow it. Now go and wait. You will see that, in time, your wishes will come true.”
And so it was. As the days went by, Mateo was surprised to see that his father wanted to play with him when he came home from work, while Sofia saw her friend come into the living room with a smile. The children understood that the windmill and its flowers not only fulfilled wishes, but also taught a great lesson: the most powerful wishes are those that are born of love and generosity.
Since then, every night of the full moon, the children wait under the mulberry tree to see if the windmill magically turns once more, always ready to plant new wishes and fill the garden with light and hope.
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The Tree of Questions 
| Uncle Augustine’s Children’s Story about Friendship and Respect 
In the heart of Grandma’s orchard, under the shade of the towering blackberry tree, a group of children gathered every afternoon to listen to Uncle Augustine’s stories. The tree, always laden with sweet blackberries, was a special place. But one day, something extraordinary happened: the leaves began to rustle.
At first it was a soft murmur that only the most attentive could notice. But soon, everyone clearly heard the words: «What is true friendship?», «What does respect mean?», «Why is it important to take care of nature?» The children, surprised, looked at Uncle Augustine, who, with a knowing smile, explained to them that the tree was testing their wisdom.
«This tree is magical,» said Uncle Augustine as he adjusted his straight-brimmed hat. «Every time you answer one of its questions correctly, a new blackberry will bloom, as a gift for your effort and honesty.»
Intrigued, the children accepted the challenge. First, Sofia, the youngest of the group, answered: «True friendship is helping others without expecting anything in return.» Immediately, a bright blackberry appeared among the leaves, as if the tree were applauding her answer.
Then, Thomas, with his hands full of dirt from having been playing near the well, dared to answer the next question: «Respect is treating everyone as you would like to be treated.» Instantly, another blackberry blossomed, larger and brighter than the previous one.
Each child took a turn, reflecting on the tree’s questions. They talked about the importance of sharing, patience, and the need to take care of their environment. With each correct answer, the tree filled with blackberries, until all its foliage looked like a starry sky of small, shiny black fruits.
Uncle Augustine watched them with pride. «Did you notice?,» he said at the end, «the tree has taught us that the best answers are not in books, but in our hearts and in how we live our lives.»
As the sun began to set behind the mountains, the children, satisfied and happy, picked berries to share with their families. Before saying goodbye, they thanked Uncle Augustine and promised to return the next day to hear more stories and learn from the tree’s questions.
«Thank you for joining us in this wonderful story under the berry tree,» Uncle Augustine said with a smile as the windmill turned gently in the background. «If you enjoyed this story, don’t forget to subscribe to the channel, leave a ‘Like’ and ring the bell to receive notifications of our upcoming stories. See you next time!»
A Treasure in the Windmill | Uncle Augustin’s Children’s Stories
In Grandma’s quiet orchard, the Chicago Air Motor windmill spun slowly, driven by the breeze. One afternoon, while Uncle Augustine was fixing some blades, a sudden storm blew up. The children, sheltered under the mulberry tree, watched with curiosity as the wind swirled leaves and branches around the windmill.
Suddenly, something unusual happened: an old parchment got caught between the blades. Uncle Augustine, always intrepid, carefully retrieved it. «Look at this, children!» he exclaimed, holding the parchment out in front of the children. It was an old map, with drawings of trees, paths, and an «X» marked in the center of the orchard.
«This windmill always has surprises in store,» Uncle Augustine said with a mischievous grin. «Looks like we’re on a mission.» Without a second thought, the children—Ana, Diego, and Sofi—offered to help. Armed with flashlights, shovels, and the map, the group began exploring.
The first clue led them to the old apple tree by the well. “Look, there’s a symbol here that matches the map,” Diego pointed out excitedly. They dug enthusiastically, but found only a box full of smooth, colorful stones. “Maybe it’s a sign to keep looking,” suggested Ana, ever the optimist.
Guided by the map, they reached the large rose bush in the orchard. There, among the thorny branches, Sofi discovered a rusty key. “This must open something,” she said determinedly. The map indicated one last destination: the shed where Uncle Augustine kept his tools.
Inside the shed, they found a small, dusty chest. “The key fits!” Sofi shouted as Diego helped turn it. Opening it, they found no gold or jewelry, but a handful of old items: family photos, wooden toys, and a letter written by Grandpa Don Manuel.
The letter read: “The real treasure is not what you find, but who you share it with. These memories are a little piece of our stories together.”
The children looked at Uncle Augustine, excited. «This is the best treasure of all,» said Anna. «We had so much fun searching together.»
Uncle Augustine, touched, hugged them. «Children, you have learned something important today. Imagination and teamwork are the most valuable treasures there are.»
As evening fell, the children carefully packed the souvenirs away in the shed and gathered under the mulberry tree. Uncle Augustine promised that the next adventure would be just as exciting, as he offered them fresh mulberries as a reward.
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Magical Children’s Story 
| Uncle Augustine and Bunnies on the Moon
| Magic windmill.
One quiet night in Grandma��s orchard, the children gathered under the blackberry tree while Uncle Augustine, with his hat and unmistakable mustache, prepared another story. But that night was different. The windmill, suddenly illuminated by the moonlight, began to spin faster than usual, as if it were alive.
“Look at that!” exclaimed one of the children, pointing at the windmill that seemed to want to take off. Suddenly, a flash of light enveloped Uncle Augustine and, before he could say anything, the windmill lifted him into the air. The children watched him disappear among the stars, open-mouthed and full of wonder.
Uncle Augustine woke up from his journey in a silvery landscape. He was on the Moon, surrounded by a group of little luminous bunnies with long ears and eyes as bright as starlight. “Welcome, Earthling traveler!” said one of the bunnies. “We are the Lumiontes, lunar guardians and we need your help.”
Intrigued, Uncle Augustine asked what was happening. The bunnies explained that a star had been lost and without it, their night sky was incomplete. “Without that star, the Moon loses its magic and the dreams of children on Earth fade away,” added the leader of the bunnies.
With his usual curiosity and desire to help, Uncle Augustine offered to search for the star. The Lumiontes gave him a lunar map and a shiny powder that could attract lost stars. Riding a small lunar vehicle that seemed to be made of clouds and cosmic dust, Uncle Augustine began his adventure.
He crossed silver craters, rivers of light and fields of star dust. Finally, he arrived at a hidden cave where he found the lost star, which was dull and sad. “I didn’t want to shine any brighter because I felt that I wasn’t as bright as the others,” the star explained in a trembling voice.
Uncle Augustine smiled tenderly. “Every star has its own brightness, you don’t need to compare yourself to anyone. Heaven needs you because you are unique.” Encouraged by his words, the star shone brightly again, illuminating the entire cave.
With the help of the glitter dust, Uncle Augustine and the star returned to the moon bunnies, who celebrated with joyful jumps. When the star returned to its place in the sky, the magical glow of the Moon returned, and the dreams of the children on Earth were filled with hope.
The windmill turned again and Uncle Augustine woke up at the foot of the mulberry tree, surrounded by the children who looked at him in admiration. “And then what happened, Uncle?” they asked excitedly.
Uncle Augustine adjusted his hat and smiled. “Well, that’s a story for another day. But remember, no matter how far away someone is, it’s always worth helping.”
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Thank you, from my uncle Agustin. Have a great day! See you in the next story from my uncle Agustin.
The Cloud That Was Lost 
| A Children’s Story with a Lesson on Freedom and Home 
Under the mulberry tree, Uncle Augustine lit his story pipe, as the children called it, although this time it had only a wheat straw instead of smoke. “Have you ever heard of the cloud that got lost?” he began in a deep voice, capturing the attention of the little ones.
One day, a mischievous cloud, tired of floating in the endless sky, looked down and saw Grandma’s orchard full of colors and life. “What a beautiful place!” he thought, and decided to go down to explore. Little by little, he descended until he was trapped in the blades of the windmill. The windmill, surprised, began to spin hard, but he was unable to free her.
When the children in the orchard noticed what was happening, they ran to the windmill. “Cloud, cloud! What are you doing here?” asked Lucia, the bravest. The cloud, with a soft and somewhat embarrassed voice, answered: “I was tired of traveling and wanted to rest. But now I don’t know how to get back to the sky.”
Worried about the cloud, the children sought out Uncle Augustine, who knew the stories of the winds. “We must call upon the North Wind,” he said, “he is the only one strong and wise enough to help.”
With a little ingenuity, the children began to sing a special tune that Uncle Augustine taught them. Its notes rose like a magical whisper until the wind responded. It appeared in a gentle but majestic whirlwind, stirring the leaves of the orchard.
“Little cloud, your home is in the sky,” said the North Wind in a deep voice. “Why did you leave your place?”
“I wanted something different,” the cloud admitted, “but I didn’t know I would miss my place among the other clouds so much.”
With a firm but gentle blow, the North Wind unhooked the cloud from the windmill and lifted it back into the sky. Before leaving, the cloud thanked the children and the wind. “I will never forget this orchard or the lesson I learned. The sky is my home, but I will always carry this place in my heart.”
That night, under the starlight, the children looked up at the sky and assured that the cloud, now back among the others, winked at them.
Uncle Augustine, with a smile and his wheat sprig in his mouth, concluded: “Remember, little ones, that we all have a special place in this world. Learning to value it is part of our adventure.”
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Every time you look at a cloud in the sky, think about freedom and how important it is to value our own home. Until the next adventure!