Fantasy Stories For Kids Novels & Stories

It felt like I was a page ripped out from one story and forcefully pasted in your book of life. Mom brought storybooks of princesses and prince, angels, demons, mermaids, fairies, magic and whatnot to make me believe that magic exists. And like Cinderella, one-day Kirito will come to my place and take me away to a huge castle and angels would guide our way forever.

She said slowly, "Well, stories should be longer, more intricate, and a bit more fantastical. You know, like 'The Ugly Duckling,' 'The Little Mermaid,' and 'The Three Little Pigs.' Kids love those kinds of stories." John's face revealed a hint of bewilderment. "What are 'The Little Mermaid' and 'The Three Little Pigs'?" "You haven't heard of fairy tales?!" Diana was astonished. How could someone like John, a genius CEO who spoke eight languages fluently and became a CEO at twenty, not know about such widely known stories?! John confessed, "Never heard of them." A barely perceptible shade of melancholy passed through his eyes. He hadn't had a normal childhood, so he hadn't heard any fairy tal

She turned to the group of children—ranging from eight to twelve years old—with a mischievous glint in her eyes, receiving enthusiastic nods in return. Maera rolled her eyes and walked away, carrying a pile of sheets she was about to wash. “Just give them normal stories, Crys.” “What kind of stories then? Cinderella or Rapunzel? Those are only suitable for girls. And stories like Batman or samurais—don’t they also contain violence?” Crystal pointed out. And she wasn’t wrong. Boys these days didn’t care much for cartoons anymore; they preferred superhero stories which—of course—always included some form of fighting.

Updates for this series will be twice or thrice a week, with a full upload of a story, not chapter-by-chapter updates, depending on my school schedules. What fantasy do you have? Comment on it, and you might be lucky enough to get your story chosen.

Golden doors that never opened from the inside. The stories came from Freya. Every night before bed, her mother would tell her about the world before King Valir. About streams that sang through ancient trees. About fairies who slept beneath mushrooms. About wolves that watched from a distance but never harmed the Ronas. About Ronas who grew flowers because they loved beauty—not because people paid fortunes to own it. Maya used to beg for the stories over and over again. She wanted details. What color were the houses? How tall were the trees?

No one knew then about my real age except from the three of us. “Go on, my niece. Blow your candle and make your wish.” It took me a second or two before I blew the candle, and wished for a happy life with my family. Making a wish around this age was not as complicated as before. In my past birthdays, it would take me many seconds to think of a wish and blow my candle. It was always been about my dream to see an elf, a fairy, a witch or to meet a real princess and prince. My childhood was mostly about magic and fantasies. I loved hearing stories about fairytales, mythical creatures and magic. It was a fascinating moment as a kid. Ka Linda was my favorite story teller. She was more on the pas

She just wished that she will be going to live a happy life and be free from all of the responsibilities given to her even just for one day. Meanwhile, at the main hall of the kingdom, a noble knight holding his metal helmet was standing in front of the throne where King Alfonso I and Queen Azalea were listening to him as he brings news to them. “Your Majesty, I have something to tell you, both good and bad news. According to my men. There are two witch kids gone astray in the southern village. My men also said that they use black magic to curse a fruit vendor and to escape from the villager's hands.”

And maybe in the end I'll succeed. The ideas have never stopped flowing, and amidst the difficulties, I've gathered them together to tell even more stories. I have a notebook full of ideas, story segments just waiting for the right piece to fit into. I've conceived many new universes. I have a love story planned that I hope will make your heart skip a beat, between two young people wounded by the world. A horror story that I hope will take your breath away, with its demons. A fantasy that I hope will transport you to a world of mysterious creatures and strange rites.

In the evenings, around the hearths of home, we teach the rules by which we share this world with the brethren through story. Tales of lovers separated by misfortune, the vain punished with disfigurement, of knights enchanted into forever sleep, and of princesses locked into towers. We seek out Seers to foretell the future, and mages to bespell swords, but are wary of the Fae with their costly altruism and deceptive beauty, the mischief of household imps, and sirens who sing ship to wreckage.

Through story, we teach the rules by which we share this world with the brethren. Around the dying coals of the evening fire, we spin tales of naughty children stolen never to return, of the brutal punishment of liars, and of trespassing travellers going astray. Tales teach us to seek out good-witches to tend to sore teeth or to help with difficult births, and diviners to foretell the weather, but to fear sorcerers or sorceresses who prey upon the unwary, sprites who blight the crops, and mermaids who drown sailors.