Knjigice
Fairy tale · Animal stories
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
Aesop's fable of the shepherd nobody believed any more
Also in: Pastirček in volk (Slovenian) · Pastierik a vlk (Slovak)
High above the village, on a sunny hillside, Tom the shepherd boy watched his sheep. Every morning he led the flock out, every evening he brought it home. Below him the village huddled under its warm rooftops. The sheep nibbled peacefully, and the bell on the finest sheep sang softly. "Nothing ever happens," sighed Tom. "Nothing at all. Just grass and sheep, sheep and grass."
1
One morning the boredom was worse than ever. Tom twirled his crook, counted the clouds and yawned. The sheep chewed, a cricket sang, the sun stood still. Then a naughty idea popped into his head: "What if I shout that a wolf has come? The whole village will come running up the hill! What a laugh that will be!" He looked down at the houses, took a breath and closed his eyes.
2
"Wolf! Wolf!" shouted Tom at the top of his voice. "There's a wolf among the sheep!" The village leapt to its feet. The baker grabbed his pan, the smith came running, big arms swinging, the grandmother took her rake. Up the hill they hurried as fast as they could. Dust rose from the path, the pan clattered, the rake bounced along.
3
When they reached the top, red-faced and panting, they found only calm sheep and Tom, holding his belly with laughter. "Where is the wolf?" asked the baker. "Nowhere!" laughed Tom. "I was only joking!" The villagers shook their heads. "You don't joke about such things," said the grandmother, and slowly they went back down.
4
A few days later the boredom was back. And Tom forgot the grandmother's words. "Wolf! Wolf!" he shouted, even louder than before. And again they came running: the baker with his pan, the smith red in the face, the grandmother with her rake. They stopped in the pasture and looked around. And again — nothing. Just sheep and laughter. This time nobody laughed but Tom.
5
"He's made fools of us twice," said the smith on the way down. "A third time I'm not going, even if he shouts till evening." The baker nodded, the grandmother said nothing and looked at the ground. Nobody glanced up at the hill again. That evening Tom ate his bread alone. The laughter seemed long gone, and the hill had never been so quiet.
6
But the next day a grey shadow really did creep out from the edge of the forest. A wolf. Lean, silent, with yellow eyes. He was in no hurry — slow and quiet as a shadow. The sheep felt him first: the bell rang wildly, and the flock squeezed into the corner. Tom gripped his crook. His hands were shaking. "Wolf," he whispered. This time for real.
7
"Wolf! Wolf!" cried Tom, waving his hat. "He's really here! Help!" He shouted until he was hoarse. Down in the village the baker just waved his hand: "He's joking again." The smith went on hammering, the grandmother went on raking leaves. Nobody looked up at the hill. Tom's voice faded into nothing, as if he were shouting down a well.
8
The wolf leapt in among the sheep. The flock scattered in every direction, wool flew across the hillside, and when it was all over, the finest sheep with the bell was nowhere to be found. Tom sat down in the grass and cried. Now he knew what every shepherd knows: nobody believes a liar — not even when he tells the truth.
9
From that day on, Tom called out only the truth. He faithfully watched what was left of his flock, and every evening he honestly told what he had seen on the hill. At first the villagers only nodded. But slowly, day by day, they began to believe him again. And when one day he called from the hill once more, they all came — at once.
10The End
