Solo Deo gloria
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own the story or characters of Heidi. This is a simple story written for my grandmother. :)
Such excitement reigned over the two friendly little girls that it took some restraint to concentrate on any one project in front of them. However, with the thrill mountain air running through their trembling fingers and the wind rustling the schoolwork paper before them, they fell to their work with all the gusto of a great master scripting a masterpiece. Their main intent was to write to Clara's grandmother and attempt to infuse all the goodness of the mountains into the simple medium of paper with the simple instrument of their pencils. Words poured out of them, of the scenes around them, the events that'd transpired over the past day or two, of everything. Each letter was painstakingly written with the earnestness and every possible skill of the little girls.
"I've finished mine," Clara said. Her hands were as fast as her feet were slow. She reread the little letter with pleasure blossoming in her heart; Grandmother would so love to hear from her!
"I'm done as well." Clara read over Heidi's shoulder as Heidi carefully enunciated every word carefully.
"Grandmother will be so pleased," Clara said happily. "Oh, if only she were here now!"
"I've an idea, Clara," Heidi said. She came down from the rock she sat upon along the long grassy slope of the mountain and looked up at patient yet excited Clara. "Let us write a story for Grandmother, and we can bind up the paper and make a cover, and make it like a real book."
Clara clapped her hands, almost too pleased to speak. They commenced forth with determination characteristic of little girls.
"Heidi, I want you to think up the story. You can tell it to me, and I'll write it down, as I'm most used to writing. You're so much better at story-telling than I am," Clara declared.
It was true; Heidi'd learned the craft of spinning a story from the lap of her grandfather. During harsh winter evenings, when the wind angrily banged against the small cottage, and heaves echoed in the eaves, Grandfather held her close on his knee and spoke of stories while the fire crackled warmly in the hearth right next to them.
Heidi sat upon the rock with her chin held up in her hands, a thoughtful look upon her young face; Clara sat at the ready, pen in hand, paper at hand.
"Once upon a time there lived upon a snow-topped mountain a mama goat and her two little kids. One kid, the boy, had a white stripe down his entire body. Otherwise, he was all black. His sister was the exact opposite. She had a long black stripe down her body and was then all white. They were good playmates, spending their days growing up frolicking in the long wild grasses in the crags with their mother watching over them. Every morning they'd be brought out to pasture by the Boy and then every night they'd go back to the pen, led once more by the Boy, and snuggle against their mama. They were happy. They hoped this would last forever.
"One day, the sister wandered around a corner of the mountain, smelling a sweet flower to eat. She walked around the mountain and was captured by a greedy man. Though she pled, he carried her away from her beloved mountain and her brother and mother. He carried her down to his wagon and locked her up and drove her far away to the capital market. He sold her to an Old Man who had a farm.
"Bringing her home, she was put to live with the rest of the goats on his farm. None of them cared for her, for all she did was cry and look sad. She soon stopped eating and slept little and almost wasted away. Those were long, sad, lonely nights. Soon The Old Man brought her in to the kitchen of the farmhouse and gave her to his Little Girl to take care of. The Little Girl held the small goat in her arms before the fire and fed her milk and petted her and talked kindly to her. Soon the little goat's spirits recovered, but she still had sadness in her heart.
"A year went by before The Little Girl took the little goat with her on a visit to some distant relatives. She walked up the mountain outside her uncle's house and found his goat herd. The little goat in her arms squealed and writhed and once released, fell into embraces with two particular goats—one an older motherly one, and another a grown boy goat, all black save the white stripe down his entire body. The Little Girl wasn't sure why spirits were fully restored to her little goat, but she left her little goat with the promise of future visits with these particular goats. The three goats rejoiced until the end of their lives about being together again. The End."
Clara blinked away tears. "What a story, Heidi."
Heidi looked past Clara, out at the mountain and Peter and his goats. Her thoughts were somewhere else.
Clara spent a few minutes writing away. She filled pages with paragraphs in two groups. She left the ends and the middle of the paper empty of words. She then folded the pages together in half. Heidi fetched a piece of leather she asked Grandfather for, and a large needle with thread. The leather became the front and back cover, and the two struggled to stitch it all together. They succeeded, however, and carefully scratched across the cover 'The Little Goat' by 'Heidi and Clara'.
Grandfather meandered over to them, hoping to find his two little girls well. Indeed they were, and they presented him their little morning's masterpiece. He read it and blinked away tears before kissing each little girl on the cheek.
"Do you think Grandmother will like it, Uncle Alp?" Clara wanted to know. Her cheeks were full of color from the morning out-of-doors in the mountain's strong air.
Grandfather said softly, "More than you know."
Thanks for reading!