The little prince of the air – A healing and educative tale
Once upon a time there was a little prince. His heart was as pure as the wind. He seemed woven from the very softness of the clouds, and the lightness of the air.
He lived with his parents, the king and queen of the air, in a castle at the top of the highest mountain. So high, that one could say that the castle was in the sky.
Happiness reigned in the castle. Every day the little prince played with the birds and the mountain goats, and he warmed himself every evening by the fire, in the great hall of the castle, on a soft sheepskin. There he listened to his mother singing, and she had a pure heart and sang like the birds of the sky.
But it happened on a cold black night that a violent thunder fell on the castle and shook it in its foundations. The castle was cut in two, crossed by a flash, and the little prince was thrown down the mountain. Fortunately, all the birds of the mountain rushed to cushion his fall and he fell gently to the ground, in a clearing in the middle of a large forest.
His crown fell beside him.
He rose slowly. He raised his eyes to the air and far up there, at the top of the mountain, he could see the castle, split in two.
He began to walk. All he wanted was to go back to the castle. Covered with wounds, staggering, tears in his eyes, he put one foot in front of the other, bravely.
It was then that he heard a clear and urgent voice,
a very small voice, so light and so imperious,
who was shouting:
“Do not forget your crown!
– I no longer need my crown, replied the child. I have a long trip to go.
– You need your crown, that’s for sure! Do not forget your crown, said the little clear voice.
– No, I don’t want it anymore.
– I live in the crown, and I need you. Please, don’t forget your crown. Don’t leave me behind you. ”
The child was moved by these last words, he went back and leaned toward his crown. He picked it up, it shone with a thousand lights, as always, and around it was flying in arabesques an airy, light, sublime, delicate being. A sylph.
The child immediately loved him.
He put the crown on his head, and he went on his way.
The following will be published this spring in French in my
Pedagogical tales for a kindly education.
For the English version, I’m searching still searching for a publisher.
This one is a very therapeutic tale, to accompany
through the big shocks that cut off the joy of the child,
trauma, abuse, separation, mourning…
events that require great resilience
and where the child risks losing his individual path;
and also for children who cannot concentrate,
caught up in all the stimulations or worries.
Drawings 1 and 3 from Alexandra Jacquin,
Drawing 2 from Kiyomi Fabian.
Thank you so much to them!!! 🌺