Robbie Stories

By Andreas Ceatos

Robbie’s dad is a forester, who thinks what he can’t see simply doesn’t exist! There are no miracles, no elves, no giants, no dwarves and, of course, no Forest Fairy, either. Everything has its simple explanation and the world runs like clockwork.

This way of thinking doesn’t make life very easy for him: his son, Robbie, often turns his down-to-earth world upside down. From time to time, strange things happen around the young boy. On one occasion, the garden suddenly turns into a lake, on another, Robbie, who is basically a skinny kid, rolls down the stairs, as fat as a pig.
To make things worse, if something unusual happens, Robbie immediately comes up with an explanation: A bag of walnuts disappeared? The elves have taken it as their commission. A corpulent guy pushes a wheelbarrow around in the yard? He is a giant who has come to collect his wage. But the rolling lake also deserves to be mentioned, which allegedly chased Robbie around – whose father, naturally, doesn’t see any trace of the lake later.
And when Robbie walks around the forest in a spirited conversation with his blanket, his father slowly but surely comes to the conclusion that the child should be seen by a doctor. Luckily, the Forest Fairy always has a brainstorm in these situations – or Robbie’s mom stands up from her armchair by the television to come to her son’s rescue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andreas Ceatos
• Release date: Nov 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465979339

Book preview

Robbie Stories

by Andreas Ceatos

Robbie and his parents

Illustrated by Mátyás Hegyesi

Table of Contents

The Wandering Lake

The Magic Cupboard

The Invisible Treasures

The Artist Elf

The Dream Blanket

Roly-Poly Robbie

Hard Nuts to Crack

The Muscle Shirt

The Magic Pyjamas

To my daughter Ann, without whom there would be no Robbie Stories.

© Andreas Ceatos, 2011

Cover and illustrations:

Mátyás Hegyesi

Translation: Peter Petri

Proofreading: John Barefield

Author’s homepage: www.andreasceatos.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

The Wandering Lake

Wandering Lake

here was a powerful bite, and Robbie’s float disappeared in the water of the lake like a little torpedo. He grabbed his fishing rod happily but immediately felt that it was not going to be a big fish. True: it was only a small bullhead. Big bite, a small fish, Robbie thought angrily and began to get the hook out of the fish’s mouth. His hand net was already swarming with bullheads. Robbie decided not to continue fishing just to catch another spiny little runt: in each of the three fins of bullheads, there is a little spine with which they can give a painful prickle. Robbie had learnt his lesson when he caught his first bullhead: when he grabbed it, one of those long spines stabbed him between his thumb and index finger. As he remembered this, he no longer felt like taking the catch home. He poured them all back into the lake and walked home.

At home, his dad immediately noticed Robbie’s bad mood.

What’s up, Son? he asked. Didn’t you catch anything?

I sure did. I caught a lot of fish.

So what’s the matter?

They’re all bullheads!

Robbie’s dad put his newspaper down on the table.

Well, you shouldn’t fish in that lake any more. At least not until it is populated with fish again.

Why? Robbie said in a surprised voice.

"Because there are only bullheads left in it. That’s what always happens to small lakes. The first bullheads appear and then systematically eat up the eggs of the other fishes and, in the end, they crowd everyone else out: they are the only ones left! That’s how the story always goes.

And how do the first bullheads get into the lake? Robbie continued with his questions.

Well, there are many ways. A bird may drop them or someone can throw them there. Robbie’s dad hated explaining things, so he quickly turned to his newspaper again.

Robbie could not live without fishing. He also very well knew that the lake would not be populated with fish soon again. No money for it, that’s what adults keep saying. That evening, he pondered a lot about what to do. The next morning, after breakfast, he collected his fishing gear, took his backpack and headed towards the door.

You aren’t going to the lake, Son, are you? his father asked, surprised. "Believe me, you’ll only catch bullheads!

That’s not where I am going! Robbie answered.

Robbie’s dad was completely amazed.

So where then? There are no fishing waters anywhere near here!

No problem! I will look and find one! Robbie responded in a determined voice.

He started walking towards the forest, at random. As he walked past the lake, he felt a strong temptation to fish there, but he resisted the temptation and walked on. He was strolling on the wide tourist path towards the First Mountain, looking right and left all the time hoping that he would see a lake, though he knew the forest like the palm of his hand and knew there was not even a puddle there. However, he somehow felt sure that he would find something. Near the end of the path, before the end of the First Mountain, he left the path to the left and headed towards the hills and the sparse pine forest, where he had rarely gone before. The terrain in