From our collection of fairy tales modernized for beginning readers.

Once upon a time, in a land of towering mountains and hidden valleys, there lived a fairy named Rosy. She was as tiny as a hummingbird. One spring day, Rosy felt an irresistible urge to travel. She fluttered out of her cozy acorn house and soared into the soft, hazy air of the southern mountains towards a place called Echo Hollow.

This hollow was named after a clever invention. Long ago, a man named Hollis made a machine that pounded corn by using the flowing water of a brook. The rhythmic thumping of the machine echoed through the forest, and so the hollow was named Echo Hollow.

When Rosy arrived, the air was chilly, but the signs of spring were everywhere. Tender green shoots poked through the fallen leaves, and birds sang with newfound joy. Rosy followed the mystery of a winding path down through a tangle of tough mountain laurel into the green hole where the forest floor had sunk a thousand feet and was bursting with color.

Rosie in the Mountain Laurel thicket from our fairy tales modernized

She saw bloodroot flowers, their white petals like tiny stars. She saw violets, their purple faces turned towards the sun. And she saw the pink blossoms of the Judas trees, like tiny dancers celebrating the arrival of spring. Rosy explored the forest, following a babbling brook deeper into the heart of the hollow. 

Bloodroot on the forest floor

Six children, barefoot and bright-eyed, stood on a large rock, watching Violet approach. The eldest, a boy not over ten, and the youngest, an infant just able to stand, were arranged in a solemn row, in perfect silence, watching Rosy.

Six Appalachian children in a stream

Nearby, just across the brook which ran, like a road, in front of the gate, stood a weathered-gray cabin, of rough boards. At one end was a chimney of field stone, held together with clay. Surrounding this cabin was a rough picket fence, of untrimmed boards, with a gate opening on the brook and planks across to the path. 

Rough board cabin by the stream

Behind, in a small clearing, was the stubble of last year’s corn. That little gray cabin was the essence of the picturesque, with the forest wall rising behind it and, behind that, the great headwall of the cove. It was weathered and old and primitive and lovely, and the six little shy ragamuffins on the stone, still staring at Rosy with the eyes of timid animals, wereโ€”well, they were six little shy ragamuffins, and that is nice enough!

โ€œHello,โ€ Rosy said, โ€œI see you’ve got the baby out to gather wildflowers, too.โ€ Rosy’s gentle smile won them over.

The eldest girl, Effie, found speech after an effort. โ€œThat ain’t the baby,โ€ she said, โ€œThe baby’s in the cabin with maw.โ€ She gestured towards the cabin. โ€œWe live in there.โ€

Her younger brother, Boone, chimed in, “We all share one big room. It gets awful crowded sometimes.โ€

The children took turns explaining their chores. Effie helped with the cooking and cleaning, while Boone and the other boys helped with the farm work. Even the youngest, Opal, had the task of collecting eggs from the chickens.

“But we still have time for fun,” piped up the second youngest, a boy named Rueben. “We play in the woods, build forts, and swim in the creek when it’s warm enough.”

Their eyes were fixed on Rosy, taking in her shimmering wings and delicate features. They had never seen a fairy before.

“Where do you live?” Effie asked, “Do you have a house like ours?”

“Is it true you can make wishes come true?” Boone blurted out, his eyes wide with wonder.

Rosy chuckled. “I live in a tiny acorn house,” she explained, “and while I can’t make wishes come true, I can bring a little bit of magic to those who need it.โ€

Rosy wanted to leave the children with a little something to remember her by.

She reached into her pouch and pulled out a small, shimmering seed. “This,” she explained, “is a seed of hope. Plant it in your garden, nurture it with kindness and love, and watch it grow.”

Seed of hope in palm of hand

The children promised to plant it the very next day.

It was time for Rosy to return to her home. With a final wave of her delicate hand, Rosy took to the sky, leaving a trail of sparkling dust in her wake. The children watched her disappear into the forest green.

The next morning, they planted the seed in a sunny spot near their cabin. They watered it, weeded it, and whispered words of encouragement to it. And as the days turned into weeks, they watched with delight as a beautiful vine began to climb the side of their cabin.

The vine produced the most vibrant and fragrant flowers they had ever seen. Their scent filled the cabin with joy, and their colors brightened even the grayest of days. The children knew that this was Rosy’s magic, the gift of beauty.

The flowering vine on the Echo Hollow cabin

Rosy thought of the children and the cabin nestled among the blossoming trees. She knew that Echo Hollow was special, a reminder of the beauty and magic that could be found in the most unexpected places.

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