Posts from the ‘Children’s Story’ Category

Transformed Saw

by Rebecca Taylor

**Previously published in Perspectives Magazine**

What am I? I am glad that you asked because I have a great story to tell you. I began my life as a hand saw with a wooden handle and a metal blade. I worked hard and sharpened my teeth on wood and helped my master to get his work as a carpenter done. But, when I grew old and my master retired, I was sold in a garage sale. My handle was rickety, and my blade was rusty from the years of hard work that I had done. I was scared of what was going to happen to me. I didn’t want to be tossed into the garbage because I wasn’t as useful as I used to be. Because of my age and wear and more people using power tools, I knew that the likelihood of someone wanting to buy me was unlikely. I sat out on a table in the sunshine all day on Saturday and barely anyone looked at me. This made me sad, but I understood. It was raining on Sunday and we were moved from the outside into a garage. Less people stopped by to see me and the other items for sale, but we still had some visitors. We could hear children playing and adults talking in the multi-family sale. I enjoyed hearing the sounds of people enjoying life. I was nervous though of what would happen at the end of the sale if someone didn’t buy me.


But I was fortunate because I never had to find out. Near the end of the day, a man came and bought me. He took me home to his garage and began to draw on me with some sort of chalk. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but there was a mirror in the room, and I could see the designs that he was putting on my metal body. There were images of trees and flowers and I was looking forward to seeing where this man’s creativity would go. When he was finished drawing on me, he left for the night. I went to sleep feeling content on his workbench. The next morning, the man returned carrying a cup of coffee in his hand. He sat down and looked me over while he sipped on his hot beverage. Then, he got out some sort of tool and because to make careful and detailed cuts where he had made the design. I have since learned that the tool is called a plasma cutter and it is a favourite for metal artists like the man who had bought me. The sparks from the plasma cutter didn’t hurt me and neither did the cuts. I was simply in awe of the man’s talents as I watched what he was doing in the mirror. When he was finished, he buffed me and then clear coated me, and then left me on the workbench to dry. A few days later, the man came back and picked me up. He tied a red bow to my handle and then headed outside and put me on the backseat of his grey pick-up truck. The ride wasn’t long, and we soon arrived at a party. I could tell because of all the banners that said ‘Happy birthday’ on them. I was added to a pile of presents and was so pleased when the young woman whose birthday it was finally saw me. She thanked the man who had made me for the exquisite gift of repurposed art. Now, I live on the woman’s wall in her office. She looks at me everyday with a smile on her face. I was once old, but I have been made new and will live forever in my new form as wall art. I couldn’t have asked for a better retirement. I am still a saw, just a different version of what I once was.


Robby’s Wing

by: Rebecca Taylor

This week’s story is for parents with children — a little story that you can read to them. Enjoy. RT

“Ha ha ha,” laughed a bunch of young robins. “Robby can’t fly.”

“Stop it!” cried Robby. “It’s not my fault that my wing is crooked.”

“You still can’t fly,” said Dan Duck.

“Hey, it wasn’t Rudolph’s fault that he had a red nose either and he led Santa’s sleigh!” answered Robby.

“Yeah well, we’ve never even met Rudolph but we know you,” said Dan.

“Come on, Robby, let’s go play on our own,” said Prissy Porcupine.

“They’re just jealous because you can sing.”

“I’m a robin, almost all robins can sing…most of them can fly too,” said Robby.

“We can all do different things, that’s what makes us special,” replied Prissy.

“Dan still doesn’t like me,” said Robby


“Some animals are like that, just walk away and when he sees that he can’t bother you he’ll stop,” Prissy told him.

“What am I going to do when it’s time to go to school? We’re all going to be together in one class.”

“The teacher won’t let him bother you and if he does, just walk away.”

“I wish I could fly. I want to know what it looks like up there in the sky. My family can’t even live in a tree because I can’t fly. We live in Mrs. Dog’s shed.”

“Then you know Dingo, he’s going to be in our class too, and so are Sierra Squirrel and maybe some others from the forest.”

“Dan will make fun of me and he’s friends with some of the older boys going to school like Rocky Racoon.”

“Just stay away from them. You can play with me and probably Dingo. My big sister knows Sierra’s sister; they’re friends so Sierra could be our friend too. Now stop worrying, school doesn’t start for months. Summer just started. Let’s go play.”

“What will we play? I’m not good at much because I can’t fly. All the other robins play flying games.”

“We can play hopscotch or play in the sandbox,” said Prissy


“I like to draw pictures in the dirt,” said Robby.

“Then let’s do that in the sandbox,” answered Prissy.

Robby drew a house with his beak and feet.

Prissy said,” I can’t get my cloud to look right. I have too many quills.”

“Let me help you,” answered Robby. He took his crooked wing and drew a perfect cloud.

“Look at that, your wing is the perfect shape to draw a cloud.”

“Your quills could make really good hair on my person,” said Robby and Prissy drew some on.

“See,” said Prissy. “We’re all different and it helps us all do special things. Your crooked wing and my quills help us do different things.”

Robby smiled, “I can’t wait to show Dan. I can’t fly but I know how to do other stuff.”

“Let’s go,” said Prissy. “If he starts being mean again, remember we walk away.”

They walked back to the pond where Dan and the young robins were playing flying games. Dan was the judge and the robins were flying as high as they could. When they saw Robby coming they started to show off.

“Look what we can do, Robby,” called out the young robins. “We can fly.”

“We’re all different,” said Robby. “That’s what makes us special.”

“You’re different all right but how does it make you special?” asked Dan.

“I can draw curved things with my crooked wing better that with my beak or feet. I’ll show you,” and Robby drew another perfect cloud.

“It’s just a cloud,” said Dan.

“Yes it is,” said Prissy. “Not everyone can draw a cloud. I can’t, I have too many quills, but I can draw hair on people and scrub mud off the boots in Mr. Squirrel’s Shoe Shop.”

“You can swim, Dan, and are good at judging how high the other robins fly. That’s why you’re special. We’re all good at different things. It is more fun that way,” said Robby.

“It sure is,” said Prissy. “If Robby were a porcupine like me he wouldn’t be as good at drawing clouds. If you were a robin, Dan, you’d want to fly too and wouldn’t judge flying games. We’re the way we are for a reason.”

“We sure are,” said Dan looking away. “I’m sorry I made fun of you, Robby, you made me see how mean I’ve been.”

“It’s okay, Dan,” answered Robby. “You know better now, just don’t be mean to anyone else because they’re different.”

“I won’t,” answered Dan.

“We’re sorry, too,” chorused the other robins. “We won’t do it again.”

They’d all learned their lessons be nice to everyone because everyone is special. Robby told his mom all about it when he got home. She smiled to herself because she had known that Robby was special all along.

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