Magical Easter Egg
A very long, long time ago, there lived an old man, who made chocolate Easter eggs. His name was Mr. Jones. He lived in a pretty castle in the hills of Europe. Mr. Jones was preparing for the big Easter season that was fast approaching. He had many pots sitting on top of a roaring fire. Big chunks of chocolate were melting in the pots.
While Mr. Jones waited for the chocolate to melt, which took a very long time indeed, he was busy preparing the moulds. He had previously carved all of the moulds from wood. Mr. Jones had to make sure that each mould was clean. Once the moulds were ready and the chocolate melted, Mr. Jones carefully ladled the hot mixture into each mould. Then, he let the moulds cool.
Once the moulds had cooled, Mr. Jones carefully lifted each Easter egg out of its mould. He decorated each egg individually. He used white, pink, blue, yellow and green coloured icing. He made many different shapes on his eggs, like stars, diamonds, circles and triangles.
Mr. Jones laid each decorated egg onto a flat table. He had oval shaped eggs, bunny rabbit shaped eggs, and teddy bear shaped eggs, too. One particular teddy bear shaped egg came to life. He could walk and talk and lift his arms.
“Hey!” the teddy bear egg exclaimed. “I’m alive.”
At first, Mr. Jones never heard the teddy bear egg so, he continued with his work.
“Can’t you hear me?” the teddy bear egg asked.
“What was that?” Mr. Jones asked as he stopped working and scratched his head in amazement. “Ah, I must be hearing things.”
“Look over here,” said the little bear. “I’m on your packing table.”
Mr. Jones turned his head toward the table and there, he found the chocolate teddy bear walking around.
“Who you are?” asked Mr. Jones.
“I am a teddy bear,” the bear explained. “I need your help.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Mr. Jones. “You just come walking into my workshop and expect me to help you!”
“I didn’t just walk into your workshop,” said the bear. “You created me. I came out of that mould over there.”
The bear pointed to the mould. Mr. Jones went over to it and picked it up. He examined it carefully. The bear was telling the truth. He found no trace of the chocolate mixture that he knew he had poured into that mould.
“How come you’re alive?” Mr. Jones asked.
“The Easter angel came and sprinkled some star-dust on me,” the bear explained. “She sent me on a mission. She filled me with magical powers.”
Mr. Jones did not want to believe the bear so, he continued to work.
“Hey there!” the bear yelled. “Don’t you want to hear about my mission!”
“Well, don’t you yell at me,” Mr. Jones screamed at the bear. “Where are your manners? I’d prefer it if you would call me by my name. I don’t like to be called, ‘Hey there!’. My name is Mr. Jones.”
“Look Mr. Jones,” said the bear. “The Easter angel told me that you are the only person that can help me.”
“Oh!” cried Mr. Jones. “I give up. Now, what is this mission of yours all about?”
“Well,” said the bear sadly. “There is a little girl down in the village who is very sick. The angel wants you to send me to her, so she can get well again. The Easter angel has put some magical powers in me that will restore the girl’s health.”
“That is simple enough,” Mr. Jones said. “I can take you there first thing in the morning.”
“I’m sorry Mr. Jones,” the bear said sadly. “There is no way that this can wait until tomorrow morning. If you don’t take me there by midnight tonight, I will lose my magical powers and the poor little girl may die.”
Mr. Jones looked at his clock. He had only ten minutes to get the bear to the girl. He grabbed him and rushed outside to his truck. It was one minute to midnight when Mr. Jones and the bear were at the bedside of the sick little girl. The bear had magically turned back into a teddy bear shaped egg.
Mr. Jones laid the egg across the little girl’s lap. Weakly, she sat up.
“Oh,” she said, not having much strength left in her frail body. “I see the Easter angel has answered my prayers.”
Quickly, the little girl devoured the chocolate egg. She had just finished the last bite, when the clock struck twelve.
“Oh sir,” she said happily, her strength already starting to return. “You saved my life!”
“Little girl,” Mr. Jones started to say.
“You can call me Cheryl,” the little girl said.
“Cheryl, it was my pleasure to save your life,” Mr. Jones said happily with tears of joy running down his face.
Moral of this Story: