Fairytales with Abigail

About Fairytales with Abigail

Stories I told my daughter

Publisher

Dostai cahen

Category

kids & family

Language

en

Explicit

No

First episode

8 Feb 2026

Latest episode

1 Oct 2026

Latest episodes

41 episodes in the feed.

1. 

   1 Oct 2026

   The old man and his stories

   Once upon a time there was an old man. He had kind, smiling eyes, and a very long coat with far too many pockets. The old man had a secret. A very great secret. On nights when the moon was full, and its blue light spilled across the street stones, you could hear his footsteps. He went from house to house, from door to door. He never knocked. The doors opened before him, soft and quiet, as if they had been waiting for him a long time. He would sit quietly on the edge of the bed, take a story from one of his many pockets, and begin to tell it in a low, warm voice: about a wizard who lived in a tall tower, about a queen who was jealous of an ant, about a land no one had ever found, because every night it hid inside a shoebox. And the children waited for him the way one waits for a friend. They knew him by his footsteps long before they saw him. When the stories were finished, he would cover them with the blanket and stroke their foreheads, and they would close their eyes and fall asleep with a small, mischievous smile. But one night the old man came to a house he did not know. The house was dark and quiet. In the corner, on a thin mattress, lay a small boy, curled up under the blanket. His large eyes stared into the darkness. The boy was not waiting for a story. He did not even look at the old man. He felt very alone, and he cried quietly. The old man reached into a pocket, then into a second, then into a third. And for the first time in his life, he found no story to tell. But he did not leave. He sat down on the floor beside the mattress and waited. He did not hurry. He waited a long time, until the moonlight shone through the window. Then he said, softly: “Tonight I will tell you a story I have never told anyone.” The boy lifted his head a little and stopped crying. And the old man began: “Once, a very long time ago, there was a boy who did not know how to smile. The world seemed too big and too loud to him. One night, when the moon was full, the boy looked out the window and saw something he had never seen before. Out of the moonlight, stairs appeared. One. And another. And another. Stairs made of light, climbing higher and higher, almost all the way to the moon. The boy opened the window. He placed a bare foot on the first step. It was warm, like bread, like a kiss from his mother. And on every step he heard a story he had never heard before. On the first step he heard about a mouse named Aki, who lived in the tallest building on Curiosity Street. On the second — about a sheep that could not find its way home. On the third — about two dragons who had forgotten how to breathe fire after sleeping for a very long time. There were steps that rang with laughter, and steps that creaked with tears. There were steps of fear, and one high step of courage. And the higher he climbed, the more he understood something. When he reached the last step, an old man was waiting for him there. He had kind, smiling eyes. The man looked at the boy with a warm gaze and said: ‘There is one thing you can do, if you wish.’ ‘What?’ asked the boy. ‘Tell stories. So that one day, when another child is sad and thinks there is no light left in the world… someone will come to him with a story.’ ‘But I don’t know any stories,’ said the boy. The old man smiled a wide smile. ‘You already have many, my child. You heard them along the way.’ The boy looked around him. The moon lit his face. And for the first time in a long while, he smiled.” The old man fell silent. In the dark room there was quiet. Then the moonlight came in through the window. On the floor a small step appeared. And another. And another. The boy looked at the old man. The old man held out his hand. “Come,” he said gently. “Where?” “To the place where stories begin.”

2. 

   14 Sept 2026

   The apple that didn’t want to be picked

   On a small hill stood an old apple tree. There weren’t many apples on it. Just one apple. But what an apple! It was large, round, and so very red. All the forest creatures heard about it. And the more they knew about it, the more they wanted to taste it. But there was a small problem: The apple didn’t want to be picked. It loved the leaves that whispered to it at night. “I’m not going anywhere,” said the apple. One day the squirrel arrived. He looked at the apple. The apple looked at the squirrel. “That’s the biggest apple I’ve ever seen in my life!” said the squirrel. He climbed the tree until he reached the apple. He opened his mouth and bit down with his big teeth. “Ouch!” The squirrel jumped back and held his mouth. “Ow!” he cried. The squirrel came down from the tree and ran away. Then came the snake. He looked at the apple. The apple looked at the snake. “I don’t need teeth,” he whispered. He climbed the tree. He coiled himself around the branch. And once more. And once more. Until he reached the apple. “Now let’s see you stay there,” he whispered. The snake coiled around the apple. And squeezed. And squeezed more. But the apple didn’t move. “Harder!” the snake hissed to himself. He pressed. And pressed. Until finally, exhausted and breathing heavily, he slid down from the tree. Then came the elephant. He was a big elephant. Very big. He looked at the apple. And the apple looked at the elephant. “I’ll simply shake the tree until the apple falls,” thought the elephant. He placed his jaw on the trunk of the tree. The elephant pushed. The tree moved a little. The apple swayed. But stayed in place. The elephant pushed again. The tree shook. Leaves fell. Birds flew in all directions. And the apple? The apple swayed from side to side. But it didn’t fall. And so days passed. And everyone heard about the strange apple tree, until one day a great carriage arrived in the forest. Out of it stepped the King. The King had heard about the apple and now wanted to see it himself. He approached the tree and looked up. The apple looked down. “This is truly the most beautiful apple I’ve ever seen,” said the King. “I want it.” The King asked his servants to pick the apple, but the apple didn’t move. “I am the King,” said the King, “and the King must be obeyed.” But the apple stayed on the tree. The King began to grow angry. “If the apple doesn’t come down from the tree,” he said, “I will cut it down!” The animals fell silent. The squirrel stopped jumping. The snake stopped slithering. Even the elephant stopped scratching. The apple trembled. The King raised his hand. The woodcutters approached. And the old tree looked up at the apple. The apple was so beautiful. Red. Round. Perfect. The tree whispered: “If you stay… they will kill me.” The apple was silent. “And if I fall?” it asked quietly. The tree looked at it and stayed quiet. The King waited. The woodcutters held their axes. The animals watched, and then... The apple released itself from the branch and fell. It fell straight down, almost onto the King’s head. The King jumped aside just in time. And the apple hit the ground and became a mushy pulp that was not tasty at all. Everyone approached. The King. The squirrel. The snake. The elephant. They all looked at the pulp. But no one ate it. A gentle breeze passed through the branches of the tree, and it whispered a sigh. “Now you grow,” said the tree to the wind, and the wind to the apple. And since then, long after, on that same small hill at the edge of the forest, there stood not just one tree. Many apple trees stood there. And when the wind blew through the branches, you could hear the old tree whisper its smiles.

3. 

   6 Sept 2026

   Mister fishman

   We crept back to the Street and slipped the bag into Mr. Fishman’s grip. Our hearts were in our throats. Surely he would know what we’d done. But when he turned to us, his blue eyes were bright. He didn’t scold us. “Tell  what you saw,” he said, leaning close. “ smiling.

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