wildforce71: (triskell)
[personal profile] wildforce71
Back from my holidays and back to posting. Sad ending and Christian-centric, this one. I wasn't going to include it because I thought it was well known, but I guess I'm biased.



Every afternoon, after school, some children played in the large, beautiful garden of a huge deserted castle. They rolled in the long, soft grass, his behind the bushes covered with blossom and climbed trees where the birds sung sweetly. They were very happy there.

One afternoon they were playing hide-and-seek when they heard a great voice boom out. “What are you doing in my garden?” it roared.

Trembling with fear, the children peered out of their hiding places to see a very angry giant. He had finally decided to come home after living for seven years with his friend, the Cornish Ogre. “I came back to my castle for some peace and quiet,” he thundered. “I don’t want to listen to a lot of children laughing and shouting. Get out of my garden - and don’t come back.”

So the children ran away, as fast as their legs would carry them.

“This garden belongs to me, and nobody else,” the giant mumbled to himself. “I shall make sure that nobody else can use it.” So he built a high wall all around it, with sharp iron spikes on top.

In the wall was a great iron gate, and on the gate the giant put a notice. “KEEP OUT,” it read. “TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED.” Every day the children poked their noses through the bars of the gate and looked longingly at the garden. Then, sadly, they wandered off to play on the hard, dusty road.

Soon the Winter came. Snow covered the ground with a thick white mantle and Frost painted the trees silver. The North Wind howled round the giant’s castle and Hail pounded the window-panes. “How I long for the Spring,” the giant sighed, as he sat huddled by the fire.

At last Spring came. The Snow and the Frost disappeared and the flowers pushed their heads up through the ground. The buds on the trees opened and the birds sang merrily - except in the giant’s garden. There the Snow, the Frost, and the North Wind still danced through the bare branches of the trees. “The Spring has refused to come to this garden,” they cried. “At last we have a garden where we can stay for ever.”

One morning the giant was lying awake in bed, feeling very sorry for himself, when he heard a blackbird singing. He leapt over to the window and beamed with pleasure. The Snow and the Frost had gone, and every tree had burst into blossom.

Every tree also held one of the children whom the giant had frightened away. They had crept into the garden through a hole in the wall, and the Spring had rushed in after them. Only one child was still standing on the ground. He was a boy who was crying bitterly because he was too small to reach even the lowest branch of the smallest tree.

The giant was moved to pity. “How selfish I have been,” he said to himself. “Now I see why the Spring wouldn’t come to my garden. I’ll knock down the walls and turn it into a children’s playground. But first I’ll put that poor little boy on top of a tree.”

The giant crept down the stairs and into the garden, but when the children saw him coming they were so frightened they ran away again. Only the little boy, whose eyes were so full of tears that he could not see the giant coming, stayed where he was. As the Winter returned to the garden, the giant gently picked up the boy. “There’s no need to cry,” he murmured softly, and he placed the boy on top of the nearest tree. Immediately the tree burst into blossom. And the boy flung his arms around the giant’s neck and kissed him.

When the children saw that the giant was kind and friendly, they came running back into the garden through the hole in the wall, followed by the Spring. The giant laughed happily and joined in their games, only stopping to knock down the walls with an axe. It was sunset before he realised that he had not seen the small boy for some time.

“Where is your little friend?” he asked anxiously. But the children did not know.

Every day after school the children came to play in the giant’s beautiful garden. Every day the giant asked them the same question: “Is the little boy with you today?” And every day the answer was the same: “We don’t know where to find him. The only time we’ve ever seen him was the day you knocked down the wall.”

The giant felt sad because he loved the little boy very much. Only the sight of the children playing made him happy again.

The years passed quickly and the giant grew old and weak. Soon he could no longer play with all the children.

One winter morning he was sitting by his bedroom window when he suddenly saw the most beautiful tree he had ever seen, standing in a corner of the garden. Its golden branches were covered with delicate white blossom and silver fruit - and underneath them stood the little boy.

“He’s come back at last,” the giant said joyfully. Forgetting how weak his legs were, he rushed down the stairs and hurried across the garden. But as he reached the little boy his face became red with anger. “Who has hurt you?” he cried. “Why can I see the marks of nails on your hands and feet? Old and feeble as I am, I’ll kill the people who have done this to you.”

Then the child smiled gently and said, “Hush. Don’t be angry, but come with me.”

“Who are you?” whispered the giant, falling to his knees.

“A long time ago you let me play in your garden,” the child replied. “Now I want you to come and play in mine. It’s called Paradise.”

That afternoon, when the children ran into the garden to play in the snow, they found the dead giant lying peacefully under a tree, all covered with white blossom.

Oscar Wilde







Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant's garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. 'How happy we are here!' they cried to each other.

One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.

'What are you doing here?' he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.

'My own garden is my own garden,' said the Giant; 'any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.' So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.



TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED


He was a very selfish Giant.

The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.

'How happy we were there,' they said to each other.

< 2 >
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still Winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. 'Spring has forgotten this garden,' they cried, 'so we will live here all the year round.' The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. 'This is a delightful spot,' he said, 'we must ask the Hail on a visit.' So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.

'I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,' said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; 'I hope there will be a change in the weather.'

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant's garden she gave none. 'He is too selfish,' she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King's musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. 'I believe the Spring has come at last,' said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.

< 3 >
What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children's heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still Winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. 'Climb up! little boy,' said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the little boy was too tiny.

And the Giant's heart melted as he looked out. 'How selfish I have been!' he said; 'now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children's playground for ever and ever.' He was really very sorry for what he had done.

So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became Winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he died not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant's neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. 'It is your garden now, little children,' said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were gong to market at twelve o'clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.

< 4 >
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.

'But where is your little companion?' he said: 'the boy I put into the tree.' The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.

'We don't know,' answered the children; 'he has gone away.'

'You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,' said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.

Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. 'How I would like to see him!' he used to say.

Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. 'I have many beautiful flowers,' he said; 'but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.'

One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.

Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.

Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, 'Who hath dared to wound thee?' For on the palms of the child's hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.

< 5 >
'Who hath dared to wound thee?' cried the Giant; 'tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.'

'Nay!' answered the child; 'but these are the wounds of Love.'

'Who art thou?' said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, 'You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.'

And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

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