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    The Karisma Tales
    The Karisma Tales
    The Karisma Tales
    Ebook129 pages1 hour

    The Karisma Tales

    By Bonnie Apple

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    About this ebook

    This collection of fables, set in a distant land, a long time ago, chronicles the growth of a boy, Ita, from a child of eight to manhood. Almost every tale has a life lesson he learns, first from his grandfather, ruler of their country, and later from his experiences and the people he meets on his travels. Ita sets out on his life journey to find the Hidden Treasure his grandfather has spoken of. Along the way, he encounters people from whom he learns about the treasure, and comes, at last, to find where it is hidden. There are stories of courage, making hard choices, and gaining independence when one is no longer a child but growing into manhood. There are stories of love and loss, of great happiness and great sorrow. The collection can be read as a whole, connected narrative, or individual stories can stand on their own. While young people of pre-teen or early teen years can read the stories on their own, younger children age ten and up enjoy having the stories read to them. There is an accompanying study guide for teachers, giving suggestions for follow-up discussions and writing projects.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBalboa Press
    Release dateMay 8, 2013
    ISBN9781452572949
    The Karisma Tales
    Author

    Bonnie Apple

    Bonnie Apple has over forty years of teaching experience. She was a faculty member at University of South Florida, University of Illinois, and in public schools in Texas and Nevada. She was named Educator of the Year at her elementary school in 2008. Currently retired, she resides in Nevada.

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      Book preview

      The Karisma Tales - Bonnie Apple

      THE TALES

      KARISMA AND THE BATTLE

      A    long time ago, a very long time ago, in a far away land, Karisma sat leaning against a tree in the forest. He sat, ignoring the beautiful spring day and the sun playing through the leaves of the trees. He was not moved by the fragrances and sounds of the forest, the sparkling pond in the distance, or the soft moss beneath his favorite tree.

      He sat, listening to the distant shouts and clash of metal as the younger warriors competed in his country’s yearly games, and he remembered. Once he had been the bravest of the brave. He was quick, daring, and strong. He shifted, seeking a more comfortable position for his shoulder against the tree.

      A pox on old age! he muttered grumpily. Though he was scarcely forty-five, today he felt old and useless. The memories of the morning and his son’s concern came back to him.

      Are you comfortable, Father? Doron asked. Some water perhaps? Another cushion for your back? And, then Doron swaggered away to the arena and the adoring cheers of the crowd.

      Cushions, hah! Karisma grunted. For the last five years, having laid aside his shield, he taught and wrote of his experiences. Both his teaching and writing were brilliant and successful. Indeed, there was none so revered as he in all the land. But, in the last year, no new inspiration had come to him, no great thoughts to drive and energize him. Instead of his usual buoyancy, there was, of late, this curious emptiness, and always the ache in his shoulders.

      Karisma! a child’s voice called. Karisma, are you there?

      That would be Ita, his eight-year-old grandson. Karisma and Ita often fished in the large pond in this, their secret clearing. They hoped to catch the big fat old fish who lurked in the depths of the pond. When they fished, they talked and oftentimes napped in their favorite spot beneath the very tree where he now sat.

      Today, he gave no answer to Ita. Let the child run after Doron. Let him talk and laugh with someone who could move, run, challenge that young body. Better that than the company of a slow and foggy old man.

      Karisma! There you are! Did you not hear me call? Ita burst breathlessly into the clearing. I have my pole and… OH! The boy faltered, seeing Karisma’s stony face. His grandfather’s blue eyes, usually sparkling with life and joy were now hard and cold.

      Go on and fish if you want, Karisma said abruptly. I have no time for fishing today.

      But, you said… we agreed to meet here. Ita stood in uneasy confusion. This sharp-voiced, distant person was so unlike his beloved grandfather that he looked again to be sure. Yes, it was Karisma, only… I brought pie, your favorite kind, Ita said. He was suddenly shy with this person who was a stranger to him.

      Then take your pole and your pie and be off to the pond. You have no need of me. Karisma looked up at last as the child shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other. It was then that he noticed the bruised cheek, the evidence of recent tears. What happened there? He touched the boy’s cheek gently, interested in spite of his dark mood.

      Oh, Ita shrugged. I… I fell in the last race. I, well, I tripped on my own feet. His cheeks burned red with embarrassment.

      Karisma chuckled. Were you watching a cloud, or did you see a bird?

      Ita’s small body seemed to shed some great burden. He sank down beside his grandfather. Yes, he giggled. I tripped. I was way out in front, and then I saw the most beautiful eagle soaring over a cloud. I forgot just for a moment, and I tripped.

      He moved the fat gold key that Karisma wore on a chain around his neck out of the niche it was carving into his small rib cage and snuggled against his grandfather. Absently, without realizing it, Karisma put his arm around the child and drew him even closer.

      They sat in companionable silence for some time, listening to the calls of the birds and the occasional splash of a fish in the pond. With a start Karisma recalled the pattern of his thoughts before Ita came to sit beside him. He sat up and pushed him away. Be off with you now. Perhaps your father will take you fishing.
 Doron? Ita’s blue eyes, so like his grandfather’s, were puzzled.

      Is he not a brave warrior and prince of the land?

      Yes, my father is wonderful, Ita said. He is big and strong, but I want to go fishing with you.

      Why?

      Why? the boy echoed. Because you are, you feel… it feels like a good feeling in here, the child pressed his hands against his chest, when I’m with you.

      And handsome Doron, filled with youth and fire, does not make you feel ‘like a good feeling in here?’ asked Karisma, as he pressed his hand to his own chest, smiling in spite of himself.

      Oh yes, Ita nodded vigorously. Doron is brave and filled with fire, and I hope to be as strong as he is when I am a man. But you are, the small grubby fingers twisted and turned the shiny gold key. You don’t hurry me up. You laugh and run away to fish. It’s like I’m real to you.

      The youngster lifted his face to meet Karisma’s gaze, as if by holding the now sparkling blue eyes with his own, he could speak straight from his heart feelings too big for words. Doron can run and fight. From him I learn those things. But, you make me know I’m me whether I’m the fastest runner or the last in the race. You are the beginning and end of me, my friend, with room for me to grow in the middle.

      Ita stopped, took an anxious breath, and noticed with surprise that his grandfather’s eyes were moist with tears. Then his brave young face crumpled into tears. Two young arms wound tightly around Karisma’s neck. The small head buried itself in Karisma’s aching shoulder. The child clung fiercely and tightly to the man for a long moment. Then he sat back and spoke again.

      It’s the same as when I asked you to explain why you loved me. Remember? You said, ‘You are my friend. I have need of you.’ Ita smiled. And I am your friend.

      The boy stood and tugged on his grandfather’s hand. Come on! That big fat old fish is bound to be there today. He pulled Karisma along, chattering excitedly. Then he stopped, and turned to regard his grandfather affectionately. I hope I’m as good a fisherman as you when I’m a grandfather. I hope I am just like you. And, he ran on toward the pond.

      Karisma smiled contentedly to himself, following the child. And who knew? That big old fish might be there today, and they just might catch him. Or maybe they would nap in the shade. And it was, after all, his favorite kind of pie.

      THE GIFT

      T he mother bird shrilled angrily at her baby in the tree. All the others had, at her insistence, spread their wings and departed. But this one clung fearfully to the mass of twigs which had been home since he emerged from the warmth of his shell. She gave one last impatient cry and flew away.

      She has deserted him! Ita thought, as he lay on the forest floor feeling much the same as he imagined the baby bird to feel. He thought of this morning’s quarrel with Karisma, and his heart ached for that baby alone there in the nest, as he felt alone in a secret place that always felt safe and secure for him.

      Suddenly the mother bird reappeared and called again to the fledgling. In and out she darted round the nest, chirping loudly, pecking, pushing, until at last, finding no respite from her, the baby lifted his head, and with a clumsy fearful flap of his small wings, lurched from the nest.

      Just so had his grandfather pressed him this morning, giving him no ease or comfort, until at last, he stormed from the room, rushed to the stable, saddled his horse, and rode furiously here, to this peaceful secret place to escape. Here, in a place he shared with Karisma, he always felt safe and secure. As he lay there watching the baby and its mother, he began to think, to see what was at stake.

      He watched the fledgling’s attempt to leave the nest with renewed interest. What if the

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