The Selfish Giant and the Magical Friendship

Once upon a time, each afternoon after school, the children would gather to play in a grand and beautiful garden. The grass was soft and emerald green. The bright flowers twinkled like little stars. Twelve peach trees wore pink and white blossoms in the spring and bore sweet fruit in the autumn. The birds sang merry songs, and the children listened and laughed. One day, the Giant returned home. He had been away for seven years visiting a friend. When he saw the children, he shouted, 'What are you doing here?' The children ran away. 'My own garden is my own garden,' he declared. 'I shall not let anyone play here except myself.' He built a high wall and put up a sign: 'Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.' The Giant was very selfish. The poor children had no lovely place to play. The road was hard and dusty, and the stones hurt their feet. After their lessons, they wandered around the high wall, talking about the beautiful garden inside. 'We were so happy there,' they said.

Spring came to the country. Little flowers and little birds were everywhere. But in the Giant's garden, it was still winter. No birds sang, and the trees forgot to blossom. A brave flower peeked out, saw the sign, felt sad for the children, and went back to sleep. The Snow and the Frost were happy. 'Spring has forgotten this garden,' they said. 'We shall live here all year round.' The snow covered the grass with a white cloak. The frost painted the trees silver. They called the North Wind to come. He arrived in furs, roared all day, and blew down chimneys. Then they asked the Hail to visit. Each day for three hours, the Hail rattled on the roof and dashed about the garden. He wore grey, and his breath was like ice. 'I don't understand why spring is so late,' said the Giant as he gazed at the cold white garden. 'I hope the weather changes.' But spring never came, nor did summer.

Autumn gave golden fruits to every garden except the Giant’s. 'He is too selfish,' it said. So it was always winter in the garden, with the Wind and the Hail and the Frost and the Snow dancing through the trees. One morning, the Giant awoke to a delightful melody. It sounded so lovely that he thought it must be the King’s musicians. But it was only a little bird singing outside his window. He had not heard a bird in his garden for so long that it felt like the most beautiful music in the world. The Hail stopped dancing, the North Wind grew silent, and a gentle fragrance of flowers entered. 'Spring has finally arrived,' said the Giant. He leaped out of bed and looked out. What did he see? Through a small hole in the wall, the children had crept in. They sat in the branches of the trees. On every tree he could see, there was a child. The trees were so happy to be covered in blossoms and gently waved their branches above the children's heads.

The birds flew and sang joyfully. The flowers peered up through the green grass and smiled. Only in one far corner was it still winter. There stood a small boy. He was very tiny and could not reach the low branches. He walked around the tree and wept softly. The poor tree remained covered in frost and snow, and the North Wind blew upon him. 'Climb up, little one,' said the tree and bent down as low as it could, but the boy was too small. The Giant's heart melted. 'How selfish I have been,' he said. 'Now I know why Spring would not come here. I will help that little boy climb the tree, and I will tear down the wall. My garden shall be a playground for the children forever.' He felt truly sorry. He went downstairs and opened the front door carefully. But when the children saw him, they were frightened and ran away, and winter returned to the garden. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were full of tears and he did not see the Giant.

The Giant crept up quietly, lifted the little boy gently, and placed him in the tree. Immediately, the tree burst into blossoms. The birds sang in its branches. The little boy stretched out his arms, put them around the Giant's neck, and kissed him. The other children saw that the Giant was now kind. They ran back, and with them came the Spring. 'This is your garden now, dear children,' said the Giant. He took a great axe and knocked down the wall. By midday, the people going to market saw the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen. They played all day, and in the evening, they took their leave. 'But where is your little friend?' asked the Giant. 'The boy I put in the tree. I loved that boy best because he had kissed me.' 'We don’t know,' the children answered. 'He has gone.' 'Please tell him to come tomorrow,' said the Giant. But the children did not know where he lived.

The Giant felt sad. Every afternoon, the children came to play, and the Giant was very kind. But the little boy never returned. The Giant often said, 'How I would love to see him.' Years passed. The Giant grew old and feeble. He could no longer play. He sat in a big chair and watched the children and the beautiful garden. 'I have many lovely flowers,' he said, 'but the children are the loveliest of all.' One winter morning, the Giant looked out of the window while dressing. He no longer hated the winter. He knew that winter was merely spring resting. Suddenly, he rubbed his eyes. In the farthest corner, a tree was covered with white blossoms. Its branches were golden, and silver fruits hung down. Beneath it stood the little boy he loved. The Giant ran downstairs in joy and hurried across the grass. As he approached, he stopped. He saw tiny marks on the hands and feet of the child, like little footprints.

'Who has hurt you?' cried the Giant. 'Tell me, and I will protect you.' 'No,' said the child softly. 'These are the wounds of love.' 'Who are you?' asked the Giant, feeling a quiet wonder. The child smiled and said, 'Once you let me play in your garden. Today you shall come to play with me in my garden, which is called Paradise.' That afternoon, the children ran in and found the Giant lying beneath the tree. His face was peaceful, and white flowers covered him like soft snow. The garden remained open to all the children, and kindness dwelled there forever.