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Once there was an old woodcarver
called Geppetto who longed to have a
child of his own. So he decided to
make a puppet that would be just like
a real boy.
" I shall call him Pinocchio,"said
Geppetto as he began to carve the
wood. A moment later, he
had a surprise. As soon
as Geppetto carved
Pinocchio...............
Once upon a time a boy named Jack lived with his mother. All they had in the world was one cow.
One day Jack's mother said, "We have no money for food. We shall have to sell the cow".
So Jack took the cow to market.
On the way, he met a man.
Once upon a time, a beautiful
queen had a baby girl.
The baby's skin was as white as
snow, and she had beautiful blck
hair. The Queen called her baby
Snow White.
A dirty mouse found a mirror in the bushes.
He saw himself in the mirror.
His face, nose, ear and hands were dirty.
"How can I look so dirty!" He cried in shock.
"It must be the mirror. "He wiped the
mirror with his dirty paw.
Then he reached up to unfasten his helmet. After slipping it off, he found himself back in the everyday world. The mall, which was so real only seconds before, had been replaced by an empty room the size of a basketball court. The walls were covered with a thick plastic material painted flat black. The only light came from small ceilingmounted spots.
"of!" Joe exclaimed as his blond head emerged from under his plastic helmet. “That was something. I feel like I've been in a real fight—and lost!”
Frank was about to reply when a door opened at the far end of the room. A tall, slender young woman in faded jeans and a blue blazer came in. Even in the dim light, her long red hair seemed to glow. Though only twenty-seven, Amanda Boggs was co-owner and creative director of Xyrodian, one of the hottest video game companies in Silicon Valley, California. The Hardys had stopped by to visit on their way to VidCon, a video game exhibition in San Francisco, and Amanda had offered to give the brothers a personal tour.
"Well, guys?” Amanda said, as she drew closer. "How do you like virtual reality?"
"Fantastic!” Joe replied.
“Amazing," Frank added. "I felt as if I were really in that mall."
“Where can we buy one of these, Amanda?"
James and the Giant Peach was my first book for children. I wrote it during the winter of 1960-61 in New York, and I started it because I wanted to attempt something different after seventeen years of writing nothing but short stories for adults.
I can remember vividly that I was sitting at my desk and playing around with the lines of "The Centipede's Song' when my wife burst into the room and told me that our son Theo, then three months old, had been hit by a taxi-cab while out in his pram with his nurse. I dropped my pencil and we both rushed to the hospital. His head injuries were severe and almost fatal, and the next few months were desperate times, with brain operations and endless journeys through the snow to hospital, and all the awful tensions that grip a mother and father when they are fighting to save their baby's life.
When you are writing fantasy, which is a very different thing from writing fiction, you must be able, the moment you pick up the pencil, to shut out all normal surroundings and go flying away to a magic world where everything is enchanting.
Zack is about six feet tall with black hair. He was begging his dad to give him permission to go to a nearby town. But Mr. Wesley would not allow it under any circumstances. Mr. Wesley himself was a private investigator and was well-known for his detective work around the world. Right now he was just sitting on an armchair in the living room, reading the newspaper.
“Did you hear the latest news, Zack? Frank Bryce has escaped prison. He is one of the most wanted criminals in the world. He has murdered a total of 150 people using robots. He was spotted about 100 kilometers from our place after his escape," said Mr. Wesley
“How can he escape? He was a top security prisoner, wasn't he?” Zack asked with some curiosity.
“Yes, he was and I don't know how he escaped. No one has ever escaped the Black Gate Prison before, but Frank is known as an evil genius,” Mr. Wesley replied thoughtfully.
The folktales of Bangladesh are the inherent treasures of the soil. The rivers and the meadows of this land, its shrubs and tributaries and paddy fields, the ecstasies and the heartaches of its people, their hopes and frustrations, their faith and disillusion all have gone to the making of the folktales of this region. With the local indigenous influences carried over from the past through generations there came to be mixed in course of time the various influences imbibed from Muslim tales and legends brought over from Arabia, Morocco, Turkey, Iran and other Islamic countries. Aftar Bengal came under the Muslim rule in early 13th century the Muslim influence became quite discernible in all spheres of the local life. Many religious saints came over to Bengal to preach Islam and spread the basic fundamental moral virtues of their faith. They settled in various parts of the country and largely helped in spreading there Muslim culture among the local people. Many Muslim traders also came for purposes of trade and commerce. Through all these channels Arabic and Persian tales and legends travelled into Bengal, got inextricably mixed with the local tales in many cases, and enriched the folktales of this area with a special flavour all its own. While we get many folktales which reflect the ways of life and culture of the Muslim peoples, there are many again where the mixed picture of the lives of various communities are presented in a free and unfettered manner. In fact the tales of the latter type are more in number. There is a reason behind this. The tales from Arabia and Persia and Turkey merged themselves inextricably with the air and the water and the earth of Bengal, but since many of these tales were inherently of a superior order artistically, they exercised a tremendous influence on the trend of the peculiarly local tales and helped change and modify their character.
Tolstoy in Bangla. This responsibility of retranslating in Bangla has been performed by famous poet
Audry has written a very enjoyable story of adventure for you. He is only a thirteen or fourteen years old school boy and lives in Indiana with his parents. His father teaches in the university of Indiana. I hope he would come back to Bangladesh some day with his parents and write stories for you in his mother tongue Bengali. 'The Secrets of Pirate Island' has been written in a foreign background. But the appeal of the story is universal and at least once you would find the brave boys in Bangladesh. I have read the book and enjoyed it enormously. I hope you will also enjoy reading it.
On the corner of the courtyard is a Margosa tree; and their leaves are good for health. On a branch of that tree a crow is cawing for a long time which is really annoying. Nevertheless, the surrounding trees are filled with amazing green leaves! Tiny colorful flowers blossomed all over the grasslands. Though the crow is still cawing but before that a dove was humming. Suddenly, a bird with various colors on its feather caught the eye-sight. "Rongeela", Ami decided to name this bird, which means colorful. At that very moment, his eyes caught a man wearing a blue half pant and a blue half-shirt. He is pushing a two wheeler wooden cart box. On the top of the box something
When Tassie’s parents get divorced, she changes schools and becomes the “new girl” in class. Painfully shy, Tassie worries about fitting in until she becomes friends with Rose and starts to enjoy her time there. But, Rose’s friends, Sam and The Reds, have other ideas. Caught between her friends, how will Rose help the new girl find her place in school? In a refreshingly simple story about friendship, jealousy, trust and “doing the right thing”, Kaya Hussain explores the various important layers in any relationship.