Uncle Agustin
🌐 «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.
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.
If you liked the story, don’t hesitate to subscribe to our site, and before you leave, leave us a comment. It encourages us and drives us to create more and better stories for you and your children. . Thank you for your visit and have a nice day.
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.»
If you enjoyed the story, please subscribe to our site, and before you go, leave us a comment, that encourages us and drives us to create more and better stories for you and your children. Thank you for visiting and have a nice day.
#kidsStory #windmill #UncleAgustin #Grandma #fireflies #mysteriousLights