Do you know what a tale is?
The short story is a kind of literary story. Generally, it is a work of fiction, that is, make-believe, as it portrays a fantasy world from the imagination of the person who wrote it. The tale has a narrator and a plot, that is, a story that will develop with a beginning, middle and end.
What makes the tale a tale is its size. Unlike other texts, the short story is usually small, smaller than a novel, but despite being small, it has a closed structure and a climax, which is the tense moment of the story. There are few characters in the tale, because there would not be time for several stories of various characters to be developed.
For you to better understand what a short story is, nothing better than learning it in practice, right? We have selected for you three very cool short stories by authors who have dedicated themselves to children's literature and who will make you want to learn more about the genre. Good reading!
Live the peace!
(Tatiana Belinky)
two fussy kittens
they hitched, snarling.
the owner got angry
and the broom snapped!
And despite the cold, at the time,
swept them out the door,
right in the middle of winter,
with a cold "from hell"!
The kittens, scared,
shrank, already frozen,
by the door, in the garden,
waiting for the sad end!
The short story is a type of narrative that is usually short, but has a beginning, middle and end
Of cowed terror,
the two kittens, poor things,
couldn't even meow,
regretting such bad luck!
Without hearing any meowing,
the owner, on her side,
of the kittens,
and the door opened at once!
Even though it's so cold,
the two goose bumps
Wow! right by the stove
arise without complaint!
And the owner commented:
it doesn't matter who started it!
a silly trouble like that
it's good that it has an end soon!
And she then added,
don't want to fight anymore, no?
And the kittens, curled up,
they forgot the fight, relieved.
Comforted, warm,
with peace and affection,
sleep well, darlings,
already forgotten the fight.
witches don't exist
(Moacyr Scliar)
When I was a boy, I believed in witches, evil women who spent all their time plotting evil things. My friends believed that too. The test for us was a very old woman, a spinster who lived in a ramshackle house at the end of our street. Her name was Ana Custódio, but we just called her "witch".
It was very ugly, she; fat, huge, her hair was like straw, her nose was long, she had a huge wart on her chin. And she was always talking to herself. We had never entered the house, but we were sure that if we did, we would find her preparing poisons in a large cauldron.
Our favorite fun was to bother her. Every now and then we invaded the small courtyard to steal fruit from there, and when, by chance, the old woman went out to shop in the small store nearby, we ran after her shouting "witch, witch!"
Generally, short stories tell a make-believe story, featuring characters born in the author's imagination.
One day we found, in the middle of the street, a dead goat. We didn't know who this animal belonged to, but we soon figured out what to do with it: throw it into the witch's house. Which would be easy. Contrary to what always happened that morning, and perhaps out of forgetfulness, she had left the front window open. Under the command of João Pedro, who was our leader, we lifted the animal, which was big and weighed a lot, and with great effort we took it to the window. We tried to push him inside, but then the horns got caught in the curtain.
- Let's go - Joao Pedro shouted - before the witch appears. And she appeared. Just as we finally managed to get the goat through the window, the door opened and there she was, the witch, wielding a broomstick. Laughing, we took off running. I, chubby, was the last.
And then it happened. Suddenly I stuck my foot in a hole and fell. Immediately I felt a terrible pain in my leg and had no doubt: it was broken. Groaning, I tried to get up but couldn't. And the witch, walking with difficulty, but with the broomstick in her hand, approached. By then the class was far away, no one could help me. And the woman would no doubt vent her fury on me.
In a moment, she was beside me, upset with rage. But then he saw my leg, and it instantly changed. She crouched beside me and began to examine her with surprising skill.
"She's broken," she said at last. - But we can work it out. Don't worry, I know how to do this. I was a nurse for many years, I worked in a hospital. Trust me.
She split the broomstick into three pieces and with them, and with her cloth belt, she improvised a splint, immobilizing my leg. The pain diminished a lot and, supported by it, I went to my house. "Call an ambulance," the woman told my mother. She smiled.
Everything was fine. They took me to the hospital, the doctor put a cast on my leg and within a few weeks I was recovered. Since then, I stopped believing in witches. And I became a great friend of a lady who lived on my street, a very nice lady named Ana Custódio.
magic box
(Roseana Murray)
I make a magic box
to save what not
fits nowhere:
my shadow
on sunny days,
the remaining yellow
of the sunflower,
a hummingbird sigh,
invisible tears of love.
The short stories can come in prose form or in verse form. They can even have a lot of rhymes!
I manufacture the box with wind,
words and imbalance
and to close it
with everything inside,
just a drop of time.
What do you want
hide in my box?
By Luana Castro
Graduated in Letters
Take the opportunity to check out our video lesson related to the subject:
