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The Forgetful Wizard’s Rhymes
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Wizard Kunibert and Lena
nnIn the cheerful village of Thimblewick lived Wizard Kunibert, the mightiest magician around, with the silliest problem: he kept forgetting his spells. He would lift his wand, squeeze his eyes, and say, “Now what was it? Hocus… focus?” Once, he sneezed and turned his pointy hat into a clucking hen. “Oops,” he said, as feathers drifted down like dandelion fluff. Lena, a bright-eyed girl with red shoelaces, adored Kunibert. She brought him wildflowers and asked a hundred tiny questions. “How do spells feel?” she would ask. “Tingly,” he’d say, “like soda bubbles in your toes.” Do you know that fizzy feeling? Lena giggled. She loved that Kunibert was grand and goofy at the same time. It made magic feel close and friendly, like a warm cookie in your hand.nn
A Dragon Alarm and a New Idea
nnOne afternoon, dark smoke curled above the far hills, and people hurried into the square. “A dragon!” they cried. “Hide the pies!” someone shouted, for reasons no one understood. Kunibert strode out, cloak flapping, then froze. His mind felt like a book with missing pages. “My shield spell,” he said, tapping his forehead. “Was it shimmer, then glimmer, or glimmer, then shimmer?” Lena squeezed his sleeve. “We’re a team,” she said. “We can do this.” Her voice was soft but steady, like a candle that would not blow out. “Maybe your spells need helping hands—pictures and rhymes. I use them in school, and they stick to my brain like peanut butter.” Kunibert blinked. “Pictures and rhymes? For magic?” “Why not?” said Lena. “Let’s make your memories colorful and bouncy.”nn
Up in the Tower
nnThey climbed to the top of Kunibert’s tower, where the air smelled like cinnamon and old books. Lena spread bright crayons, chalk, and thick cards on a wooden table. The wizard’s cat, Pickle, sat right on the cards as if to help. “First,” Lena said, “a cloud for your rain spell. What does it sound like?” Kunibert listened. “Pitter patter, splish splatter,” he murmured. “And it tastes like… peppermint tea on your tongue.” Lena drew a big, fluffy cloud wearing tiny boots. Underneath, she wrote, “See it, say it, do it—cloud boots bring the rain to it!” Kunibert chuckled. “That is delightfully odd.” “Odd is sticky,” Lena replied. “Sticky is memorable.” Have you ever made a silly picture to remember something? Try it. It works like magic, even without a wand.nn
Testing the Cards
nnThey tested the first card. Kunibert held it up. “See it, say it, do it—cloud boots bring the rain to it!” A tiny cloud toddled in, wearing rubbery boots, and sprinkled sugar-fine drops onto a thirsty fern. “Marvelous!” Kunibert cheered. “Let’s make more,” Lena said. They drew a shield spell as a bright umbrella with a brave smile. The rhyme went, “Up, up, umbrella bright, block the bumps and hold me tight!” For a wind spell, they sketched a dandelion blowing bubblegum bubbles: “Whoosh and whoa, dandelions blow!” Each picture smelled like crayon wax and felt waxy-smooth under their fingers. Kunibert repeated, with a grin, “See it, say it, do it.” Pickle purred, as if the cat approved the curriculum. Learning felt like a game of giggles and colors.nn
The Dragon Nears
nnSuddenly, the tower window brightened with orange flickers. Far off, a shape wheeled across the sky. The dragon was coming closer, leaving loops of smoky rings. Kunibert’s hands shook. “What if I forget again?” Lena placed a hand on his, warm and steady. “Then we breathe together. In for four. Out for four. We look at the picture. We say the rhyme. We do the spell. Step by step.” They counted breaths: one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four. Do you want to try a calm breath with them? It helps minds feel clear, like a pond with no ripples. Kunibert straightened. “Step by step,” he said. “And if I stumble?” “Then we try again,” Lena replied. “Trying is a kind of magic, too.”nn
The Dragon and the Thorn
nnThey set off toward the hills. The path smelled like pine and sun-warmed earth. Lena tucked the picture cards into a cookie tin that went clink when she walked. Kunibert carried his wand and a sandwich with extra pickles for Pickle, who followed with tail high. As they hiked, they practiced. “See it, say it, do it,” Lena sang. “Umbrella bright, hold me tight!” Kunibert chimed in, and the words bounced between the trees like friendly echoes. A clever magpie hopped along, pecking a rhythm on a branch: tap-tap, ta-tap-tap. “Thank you, drummer bird,” Lena laughed. Practicing felt like marching to a beat. Have you ever noticed how a rhythm helps you remember? Even a whisper of a beat can guide your steps, and your thoughts, too.nnAt last, they reached a warm hillside peppered with black rocks. The ground gave off little huffs of steam that smelled like boiled eggs. “Volcanic vents,” Kunibert muttered. “Old ones.” They found great prints in the dusty soil—oval and deep, like bowls pressed into flour. Around a boulder sat the dragon, scales green as moss in shade, eyes gold as marigolds. It coughed a puff of smoke that curled into a question mark. “It doesn’t look mean,” Lena whispered. The dragon lifted one wing and whined, a low kettle sound. At the very tip, a thick thorn glinted. “Oh,” Lena said. “It hurts.” Kunibert swallowed. “I know a kindness charm,” he said, “but the words—” His voice trailed off, like a path lost in fog.nn
Kindness Card
nnLena popped open the cookie tin and spread the cards like a bright fan. She sketched a quick new picture on a fresh card: a big heart wearing tiny glasses, seeing clearly. Below it, she wrote, “Small the fear, big the care; steady hands and gentle air.” “Let’s try it,” she said. “See it, say it, do it.” Kunibert nodded. They spoke together, voices soft as cotton. A warm hush settled around them, and the dragon’s golden eyes half-closed. The thorn glinted less sharply. “It’s working,” Lena said. “Kindness can be a spell all by itself.” Kunibert smiled at her. “You are a fine teacher,” he whispered. Did you notice how their words were like a blanket? Words can warm, when they are chosen with care.nn
Helping the Dragon
nnLena wrapped her scarf around her hand for padding. “Ready?” she asked. The dragon blinked and held very still, like a statue with warm breath. Kunibert lifted the rain card. “See it, say it, do it—cloud boots bring the rain to it!” A tiny cloud waddled close and dripped cool drops while Lena eased the thorn free. It came out with a soft pop. The dragon let out a long sigh that smelled like cinnamon toast left a little too long in the toaster. Lena dabbed water along the wingtip. “Better?” The dragon nodded, scales shivering like a wind chime. “There now,” Kunibert said, proud and peaceful. Helping felt like tea after a tumble—steadying and sweet. Do you feel their relief? It’s like your shoulders going down, down.nn
The Dragon’s Warning
nnThe ground trembled gently. The dragon tapped a claw on the earth, then traced circles in the dust. “Are you warning us?” Lena asked. The dragon nodded and puffed a spiral of smoke that flowed toward the village. Kunibert knelt and felt the soil. “The old vents are waking,” he said. “Hot air and steam could drift downhill.” The dragon wasn’t trying to scare anyone—he was trying to tell them. “We need chimneys, safe paths for the steam,” Lena said. Her eyes lit like lanterns. “Rocks stacked in rings, with gaps like windows. And a cooling spell.” Kunibert lifted a card with a picture of a snowflake wearing oven mitts. “Let’s work together,” he said. The dragon purred, a deep drumbeat in its chest.nn
Working Together
nnBack in Thimblewick, Lena explained the plan. The villagers didn’t run. They rolled up sleeves, fetched buckets, and hurried with wheelbarrows. The dragon hovered above, flapping carefully so the wind helped, not hurt. Kunibert chanted, “See it, say it, do it—snowflake mitts, cool the pits!” Frost laced around the chimneys, making steam curl and swirl like dancing ghosts that forgot how to scare. Lena clapped a steady beat. “Lift, set, gap—lift, set, gap!” The rhythm kept everyone moving safely. A baker sprinkled sand where it got slippery. A farmer handed out lemonade that tasted like sunshine and lemons. Does your tongue tingle when you ask for seconds? Mine would. Bit by bit, the hiss softened, and the worry melted like ice under a morning sun.nn
Celebration in the Square
nnWhen the last chimney puffed only soft clouds, the village cheered. The dragon landed lightly in the square, curled its tail neatly, and bowed. Kunibert bowed back and nearly tripped on his robe. Lena hid a smile and handed him a ribbon to tie it up. “Thank you for the warning,” she told the dragon. It huffed a happy gust that blew hats crooked. “We should keep the rhymes,” Kunibert said, eyes bright. “Not just for me, but for everyone. Safety spells. Garden spells. Bedtime calm spells.” The baker tapped a spoon on a pot. “Let’s paint the pictures on signs,” she said. “So we all remember.” Tap, tap, tap went the spoon, and the idea rang like a bell in each person’s chest.nn
Painting and Sharing
nnAll afternoon, they painted. A sleepy moon pouring cocoa for a bedtime calm spell: “Sip and sigh, dreams drift by.” A garden watering spell with carrots holding umbrellas: “Rain in rows, help roots grow.” A kindness charm for everyday bumps: “Small the fear, big the care.” Kunibert taught the chorus, and children sang, “See it, say it, do it,” clapping softly so the words felt like steps on a gentle stair. Pickle walked across a wet sign and left perfect paw prints, which made everyone laugh. Do you like paw prints? They look like four tiny question marks that already know the answer: play. The air smelled like paint and soap, and the day tasted like strawberries from a shared bowl.nn
A Book of Memory
nnAs evening came, Kunibert and Lena sat in the tower with a big, friendly book. Lena pasted each picture card inside, added rhymes, and little notes in the margins like, “Works best with a smile,” and, “Good for soggy socks.” Kunibert stroked the cover. “My memory is like a butterfly,” he said. “It flits. Your pictures are a garden where it can land.” Lena’s cheeks warmed. “Everyone forgets,” she said. “We just make paths that are easy to walk.” Kunibert nodded slowly. “True strength,” he said, “is not pretending to be perfect. It’s asking for help, and helping back.” The candle’s flame wiggled and whispered, as if it agreed. The clock ticked on, steady as a heartbeat, steady as their new plan.nn
Nightfall and New Habits
nnOutside, the dragon circled once above Thimblewick, then settled on the warm hill like a big green blanket folded just right. In the square, the new signs glowed in lantern light. Kunibert and Lena stood side by side. “Thank you,” said the wizard. “For the pictures. For the rhymes. For walking with me.” Lena bumped his elbow. “For the tea,” she teased. “And for letting me help.” They smiled. If you listen closely, you can almost hear the words they kept for any tricky day: “See it, say it, do it.” Simple steps, like hop-hop-hop across a puddle. The night smelled like mint and wood smoke. The stars looked like tiny notes on a sky-song, and everything felt safe enough to sleep.nn
Fazit — A Gentle, Magical Lesson
nnSometimes even the most powerful people forget things, and that is okay. With kindness, pictures, and a little rhyme, memories can become bright and friendly helpers. Lena showed that asking for help and sharing what you know can make a whole village safer and happier. The dragon found a friend, Kunibert found a gentle way to remember, and everyone learned a simple rule: see it, say it, do it. Keep a little card of kindness in your heart, and remember — magical things happen when we help each other.”}
