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The Camel Who Misplaced His Hump

The Camel Who Misplaced His Hump

The Camel Who Misplaced His Hump

In a wide golden desert where the sand rolled like waves upon the sea, there lived a camel named Cedric.

Now Cedric was, in almost every way, an ordinary camel.

He had long legs.
He had long eyelashes.
He had a rather thoughtful expression.

But one morning Cedric woke up and discovered something most alarming.

His hump was gone.

Completely gone.

Cedric turned his head to the left.

No hump.

He twisted to the right.

Still no hump.

He even tried peering straight over his shoulder, which caused him to fall over sideways into the sand.

“This,” said Cedric solemnly, “is not ideal.”


A Most Peculiar Problem

Cedric wandered across the desert, asking everyone he met.

First he asked a lizard.

“Excuse me,” said Cedric politely, “have you seen a hump anywhere?”

The lizard blinked slowly.

“I’ve seen many things,” said the lizard.
“Sand. Rocks. The occasional biscuit dropped by travellers.”

“But not a hump?” asked Cedric hopefully.

“Not today,” said the lizard.

Cedric sighed.


Next he asked a desert owl who was dozing in the shade of a cactus.

“Have you seen my hump?” Cedric asked.

The owl opened one eye.

“What colour was it?” she asked.

“Sandy,” said Cedric.

The owl looked around the desert.

“Well,” she said, “that certainly narrows it down.”


The Wise Tortoise

At last Cedric met Terrence the tortoise, who was the oldest creature in the desert.

Terrence listened carefully.

“A missing hump,” said Terrence slowly.
“Hmm.”

Cedric waited nervously.

“Tell me,” said Terrence, “what were you doing yesterday?”

“Well,” said Cedric, thinking hard,
“I walked to the oasis…
I ate three palm leaves…
I had a nap…”

“And?” asked Terrence.

“I rolled down a very large sand dune,” Cedric admitted.

“Ah,” said Terrence.


The Discovery

They walked together to the dune.

And there, halfway down the slope, was the most peculiar sight.

A perfectly round hump-shaped lump in the sand.

Cedric blinked.

“That looks familiar.”

Terrence nodded.

“You appear to have left it behind.”

Cedric leaned carefully against the lump.

There was a gentle pop.

And suddenly—

boing!

His hump bounced neatly back into place.

Cedric stood up straight.

“Oh!” he said happily. “That feels much better.”


A Valuable Lesson

Cedric thanked Terrence and began walking home.

From that day onward he was very careful when rolling down sand dunes.

Because losing one’s hat is embarrassing.

Losing one’s lunch is unfortunate.

But losing one’s hump, as Cedric discovered—

Is extremely inconvenient.

 
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Posted by on March 6, 2026 in Fairy tale

 

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The Grasshopper and the Fly

The Grasshopper and the Fly

The Grasshopper and the Fly

On a bright summer morning in a meadow that hummed gently with life, a grasshopper sat upon a tall blade of grass, playing the fiddle.

Now this was no ordinary grasshopper.
He played with such enthusiasm that the grass itself seemed to sway in time with the music.

Fiddle-dee-dee, fiddle-dee-dum,
went the bow as the grasshopper scraped out cheerful tunes for anyone who cared to listen.

A fly, who had been buzzing lazily through the warm air, happened to hear the music and landed on a nearby daisy.

“Good morning!” buzzed the fly.

“Good morning!” chirped the grasshopper, still fiddling away.

“Why are you making such a racket so early in the day?” asked the fly, tilting her head.

“It is not a racket,” said the grasshopper proudly. “It is music.”

“Well,” said the fly, “I prefer something a little quieter. But you do seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I enjoy it greatly,” said the grasshopper. “Music makes the day brighter.”

The fly buzzed thoughtfully.

“I suppose that is true,” she admitted. “But you might consider doing something useful instead.”

“Useful?” said the grasshopper, lowering his fiddle.

“Yes,” said the fly. “I spend my time investigating things. Exploring. Visiting places. Finding interesting smells. It is very productive.”

“Productive?” asked the grasshopper.

“Certainly,” said the fly. “For instance, I discovered a magnificent jam sandwich on a picnic table yesterday.”

“That does sound interesting,” said the grasshopper politely.

“It was,” said the fly proudly. “And there were crumbs everywhere.”

The grasshopper considered this.

“Well,” he said at last, “that may be productive for you. But I believe music is useful too.”

“How?” asked the fly.

“Because,” said the grasshopper, lifting his fiddle again, “it makes people smile.”

Just then, a breeze drifted through the meadow.

The grass rustled.

The daisies nodded.

And a group of ants paused in their marching to listen.

The grasshopper began playing again.

Fiddle-dee-dee, fiddle-dee-dum.

The fly listened for a moment.

Then she buzzed gently in the air.

“You know,” she said, “that tune is rather pleasant.”

“Thank you,” said the grasshopper.

The fly hovered thoughtfully.

“I believe I shall stay and listen for a little while.”

And so she did.

For the rest of the morning the grasshopper played his fiddle, and the fly buzzed softly in time with the music.

And the meadow, which had already been a cheerful place, became just a little bit happier.

Which proves something rather important:

Even a fly who prefers jam sandwiches can enjoy a good tune on a sunny day.

 
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Posted by on March 6, 2026 in Fairy tale

 

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I am a Troll and I live in a hole

I am a Troll and I live in a hole

I’m not a bat or a rat or a cat,
I’m not a gnu or a kangaroo,
I’m not a goose or a moose on the loose,
I am a troll and I live in a hole.
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I’m not a cow or a chow or a sow,
I’m not a snake or a hake or a drake,
I’m not a flea or a wee chimpanzee,
I am a troll and I live in a hole.
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Yarg yarg, quarck quarck, fried boiled or roast,
You’re the slick chick I dig the most ,
I’m not a ram or a clam or a lamb,
I’m not a hog or a frog or a dog,
I’m not a bus or a hip-potomus,
I am a troll and I live in a hole.
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Yarg yarg, quarck quarck, fried boiled or roast,
You’re the slick chick I dig the most,
I’m not a ram or a clam or a lamb,
I’m not a hog or a frog or a dog,
I’m not a bus or a hip-potomus,
I am a troll and I live in a hole.
I am a troll and I live in a hole.
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Bolf was a Troll; and he had a little bag

Bolf was a troll, and he had a little bag,

And he filled it up with trash, trash, trash;

Then he looked inside, and said to himself,

What a fine haul, what a stash, stash, stash.

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When he brought it home to his troll wife Joan,

And he told her to look inside, side, side,

She gazed in the bag and sang out with joy,

Such a fine stash of trash, trash, trash.

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Then they both sat down and ate the fine meal,

The very best meal they had, had, had, had.

The junk and the trash, and the tins and the crass,

Eaten with relish were soon gone, gone, gone.

***************

 

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There was an angry old Troll

There was an angry old Troll,

Who wanted to get rid of us all,

So he started to sing,

Like Des O’Connor, real mean,

And bored us to death; did that Troll.

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Old Troll Bolf

Old Troll Bolf was an ugly old Troll,

And an ugly old troll was he.

He called for his wife, An ugly old sight,

And he called for his children three.

Every child was an ugly young child,

And a n ugly young child was he.

There’s none so rare or can compare,

To Troll Bolf and his children, three.

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A Christmas Fairytale

A Christmas Fairytale

 Christmas Eve so still I know,

But something’s in the wind,

There’s a sense of magic about,

It’s now we need our friends.

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The Chimes (A Goblin Story for Christmas) eBook

The Chimes (A Goblin Story for Christmas)

FREE eBook download

Click HERE to download this FREE eBook

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