As you know, Fridays at SW are for kids. Today’s edition features some extra fun. Mrs. Reynolds has not only written a charming story, but has also recorded an audio version you can listen to! And, while you’re listening, you can color a picture from the story! I asked her (yesterday) if she would consider sketching an image for kids to color. She said yes and fired off this quick sketch in a spare moment. Be sure to right click and save this –FIRE GIRL COLORING PAGE–, then open and print it. If you’re having trouble with the audio, you can visit our Soundcloud page and listen there.
But wait, there’s more! Please post pictures of your colored pictures, and any drawings you want to add, to our Facebook page. We’ll send a prize to the picture deemed the very best one and another prize to a randomly picked child. Have fun, and enjoy the story! –Sam
Riddle and Tuck
written, illustrated, and read by Rebecca Reynolds
Once upon a time there were two friends. The first was a red-headed weasel named Riddle, and the second was a mango seed named Tuck. Tuck wasn’t slimy like most mango seeds because he’d been washed in a kitchen sink over and over until all the mango had come clean off of him, then he’d been dried out in the sunshine until he was fluffy and light as a four-month-old puppy.
Tuck owned a small, green, knitted yarn blanket and two little red shoes, which was odd, because he hadn’t any feet. Riddle didn’t own anything at all besides Tuck, which means he actually owned nothing, because friends don’t really own the other, they just like being together.
But don’t you go feeling sorry for Riddle for not owning too much. Weasels don’t need much out of life besides a friend, and mango seeds make particularly good ones, so it all worked out just fine.
Tuck lived in a pocket. It wasn’t a pocket like the one you’ve got in the coat of your bathrobe, it was just a bare, plain pocket with nothing attached to it; no pants, no coat, no dress, no nothing. Nobody knew where that pocket had come from but Tuck suspected a sweet old lady had been involved somehow, because it smelled a little like rosewater, and spearmint chewing gum sticks, and Murphy’s night cream. Because Tuck didn’t have any legs, Riddle spent most of the day carrying Tuck’s pocket around, which of course, had Tuck and all of his belongings tucked inside.
I guess you’re probably interested in the sort of things Riddle and Tuck liked to do. Children often tend to want to know that sort of information.
Well, some days Riddle and Tuck would go out to the cow field and wait for the big, brown heifer to fall asleep. The sun would grow all cozy up in the sky, and big, fat, black flies would go buzzing and smacking round and round, and that heifer would start to take long, slow breaths and nod her big old head close to the earth. That’s when Riddle and Tuck would pick a long-stemmed tickle weed and stick it way up deep in the heifer’s nostril to see if that would make her sneeze. This wasn’t a very nice thing to do, of course, so don’t you ever do anything like it. But one thing about weasels is that they can be kind of weasely, and mango seeds are equally inclined to mischief.
Riddle and Tuck also liked to skip rocks down at the creek. Riddle actually enjoyed this more than Tuck, because Tuck was always a little bit nervous that Riddle might go and get him mixed up with one of the flat stones he was skipping and that’s the sort of accident which can end a mighty friendship right then and there.
Some nights, too, Riddle and Tuck liked to go out into the pasture on that little green hill where all the wild violets grow, and they would lie on their backs and look up at the stars twinkling high up in the heavens. Riddle would hold Tuck on his belly and roll the top of his pocket down like a sleeping bag. The two of them would just lie there, talking in hushed, reverent tones about how pretty this star was or that one, and also they would philosophize about important ideas they barely understood.
One day, Riddle and Tuck had done just about everything interesting that they knew how to do. The creek was too dry for skipping stones, and the heifer was way back in the back field. It was a hot day, too hot to walk so far for a nostril. They’d tried to build a fort, which ended up being more of a stick pile in the end. They’d played charades, and king of the hill, and 21 questions. They’d turned over big rocks to look for roly-polys, and they’d pulled the long sweet stems out of honeysuckles and licked them. They’d seen who could tell the biggest fib with a straight face, and who could hold his breath the longest, and who could jump the furthest from standing. They were growing bored and punchy, and they were quite close to getting into a fuss when Tuck had a brilliant idea.
“Let’s make fire!” he said. “You just have to rub two sticks together and it happens.”
“Fire on a hot day like today?” said Riddle.
“Got any better ideas?” said Tuck. And Riddle did not, so they decided to give it a go.
Rub rub rub. Rub rub rub. Rub rub rub rub rub rub rub.
Nothing.
“Faster!” said Tuck.
Riddle stuck his tongue between his teeth like he did when he was concentrating and adjusted his stance.
Rub rub rub. Rub rub rub. Rub rub rub rub rub rub rubrubrubrubrubrubrub.
Riddle was panting. “This isn’t working,” he said.
“Put me down close, right there near where you are rubbing so I can see what the problem is,” said Tuck. And Riddle did.
Rub rub rub. Rub rub rub. Rub rub rub rub rub rub rubrubrubrubrubrubrub.
“Did you hear that?” said Tuck, but Riddle hadn’t. “It sounded like a little girl singing! Do that again!”
Rub rub rub. Rub rub rub. Rub rub rub rub rub rub rubrubrubrubrubrubrub.
This time Riddle heard it, too. There was a tiny, sweet little voice making the lines of a song. He rubbed harder and faster. He rubbed until he felt his arms go numb, and the sticks began to smell funny.
Then, suddenly, all at once, POP! Straight out of one of the sticks flew a tiny little girl, no bigger than Riddle’s paw. She was bright like the sun, and she flickered as she moved about, straightening her dress with her tiny white hands.
Riddle dropped the sticks and stared. Tuck caught his breath.
“Emberline Wick, pleased to meet you,” the little girl said, then she curtsied. “How may I be of service?”
Tuck recovered his composure first, “We were trying to make a fire,” he said.
“And so you have,” said Emberline.
“Well, you don’t look like any fire I’ve ever seen!” said Riddle.
Emberline cocked her head at Riddle and crossed her arms over her chest. Then she tapped her little bare foot on the ground, impatiently.
“I… I mean, you are a very pretty fire… I’ve just never seen one quite like you,” Riddle face turned red under his fur. He had never called anyone pretty before, and it made him lose the rest of his words to realize he’d done it.
Emberline laughed and twirled around in a circle, dancing like a flame. Then she wrapped her arms around herself and said, “It’s practically freezing out, today, isn’t it? Is it winter?”
“Freezing?” asked Tuck. “It’s got to be a hundred and two!”
“So cold even as that!” said Emberline, “Say, you haven’t a blanket I could borrow have you?”
“I’ve got one,” said Tuck, and Riddle reached down into Tuck’s pocket to hand it out to her. But when Emberline’s pretty white hand reached out to catch hold of the green yarns, POOF, the blanket caught on fire.
“It’s made of ice!” she shouted. “What good is a blanket made of ice? It melted as soon as I touched it!”
Riddle was stamping on the blanket, trying to put the flame out. “It’s not ice!” he huffed. “And that’s not melting! It’s burning!”
“What a silly world you have here,” said Emberline, beginning to stomp her feet on the ground. “My toes are practically frozen. If I’d known I were coming to Antartica, I would have packed my shoes at least!” she said.
Riddle and Tuck looked at one another. Tuck gave Riddle the stare that means, “OK, you can give them to her.”
Riddle reached down in the pocket and pulled out Tuck’s pair of red shoes. “Use these,” he said. “But this is not Antartica, it’s Tennessee.” The shoes were a little big, but Emberline slid her feet down inside them.
“Ooh! Oooh! Oooh!” Emberline exclaimed. “They’re all filled up with snow!” she shouted. “Why would anyone keep snow in his shoes?”
A funny smell began to come from the shoes, and a little thin line of grey smoke. When Emberline stepped out of the shoes she’s burned a hole clear through the soles.
“My shoes!” said Tuck. “What have you done with my shoes?”
Emberline didn’t listen. She was stomping around in a big circle, blowing into her hands, shivering. Wherever she stepped, the grasses began to smoulder, and Riddle had a fine time stomping out the little flames she left behind her.
“I have an idea,” said Tuck. “Crawl inside my pocket. It’s toasty warm inside,” he said. Emberline looked at Tuck not believing him. Riddle looked at Tuck and shook his head, mouthing, “No! No! No!” But Tuck insisted, “Just try it,” he said, “If you don’t like it, we’ll let you out.”
So Riddle lay the pocket on the ground, and Emberline crawled down inside it. The pocket was thick and wide, and Riddle and Tuck could see her shape like a little lump, moving deeper and deeper inside. “It’s perfect!” said Emberline. But she said that all muffly, because the sound wouldn’t come through the pocket very well. “But shut the door!” she shouted, “You’re letting the draft in!” And so Riddle closed the top of the pocket with his paw, and after a wiggle or two more, the wiggling stopped.
Slowly, Riddle opened the top of the pocket and peeked inside. “Let me see! Let me see!” yelled Tuck from below. Riddle knelt down and showed Tuck what he saw, which was very strange indeed. Just a little wooden match, with a bright red tip on the end.
“It’s a match!” said Tuck!
“That it is,” said Riddle, solemnly.
“Matches are dangerous,” said Tuck.
“And so are girls,” said Riddle.
They agreed, feeling wiser than they had ever felt on both matters ever before.
“I’m sorry about your blanket and your shoes, Tuck,” said Riddle.
“It’s OK, Riddle. I was just about grown out of both of them anyways. Let’s go.”
Then Riddle picked up Tuck in one arm, and Tuck’s pocket with the other. And with wide quiet steps, they made their way across the field.
- To Young Mothers of Toddlers and Babies - April 19, 2021
- On Loneliness: A Letter to My Children - October 26, 2020
- The Summer of my Extroverted Child - August 12, 2019
Rebecca, can we work out some sort of deal where I send you chocolate every week and you read me a story over the phone? That was GREAT.
Hahahah. Sweet.
Loved hearing the story read aloud! My siblings spend a lot of time engrossed in technology, so I instituted a quiet day at their house. My girls and I go over, we unplug; then we read, do crafts, Bible study, and read stories aloud. I played this for a roomful of children on the edge of their seats, and there were a few special moments that had us all laughing. Thank you so much for this!
Oh, that is so fun to hear! Thank you, Jen.
I enjoyed this so much! Listened to it in bed with my son and then with my daughter for their bedtime story. What a treat to hear my dear friend reading aloud (excellently!) and get to share it with my children. And we all love the story (of course). Thank you. And I hope you do this again.
And I would love it if more artists would read aloud for SW. More short stories or perhaps a chapter from a book or a song that tells a story? More, more! Hoorah! Hoorah!
Just listened to this with my kids, and we all loved it! So delightful. (Now we’re busy coloring.)
Finally made time to listen to this tonight. Thank you! My son is rather sad, though. He wants to know what happens next! 🙂 We are enjoying colouring our little pictures of Emberline. Loved hearing you read!