The Beanstalk – A Retold Fairy Tale of Loss and Magic
Once upon a time, in a realm hidden beyond the clouds and veiled by towering redwood trees with emerald leaves, there lived a young giant named Albert. Unlike the giants of fearsome legend, Albert was gentle, curious, and deeply kind. He lived in a humble yet happy cottage nestled in the heart of the enchanted forest, with his loving mother and wise, caring father.
Albert adored two things more than anything: the magical woods surrounding their home and the warm company of his parents. The ancient trees were so tall they kissed the sky, and their thick trunks protected the little giant family from the dangers that lurked in distant lands. These towering sentinels stood like guardians, shielding them from thieves and villains that roamed the faraway world.
Each night, Albert’s mother prepared delicious chicken broth, while his father taught him to grind bones into flour for their bread—a tradition passed down by giant generations. After supper, they would sit beneath the stars, telling stories, laughing, and dreaming sweet dreams under the moonlight. They had no riches or grand castles, but they had each other, and they were safe. They were happy.
The Golden Harp and the Goose Named Archie
Every year, on his birthday, Albert’s parents would give him a single gold coin, a small token of love he treasured more than anything. He kept them safely beneath his bed, never spending them—only cherishing them.
On the eve of his twelfth birthday, his parents asked what he desired most in the world.
“To play the loveliest music anyone has ever heard,” he said.
The next morning, Albert awoke to the soft glow of dawn and the smiling faces of his mother and father at the foot of his bed. In their hands, they held a magnificent golden harp. It shimmered with enchantment and sang with magic. When Albert strummed its strings, melodies poured out like sunshine, warming the forest and his heart alike.
A year later, on the eve of his thirteenth birthday, his parents asked once again.
“I wish for a friend,” Albert said, eyes sparkling. “The best friend in the whole world.”
His parents exchanged a glance—this time, one touched with sorrow. They knew the world was unkind to giants, and friendships did not come easily. But on his birthday, they stood once again at the foot of his bed, cradling a golden goose.
“She lays golden eggs,” said his father.
Albert named her Archie, and from that day forward, the two became inseparable. They played from sunrise to starlight, filling the forest with laughter. Albert gifted Archie’s golden eggs to his mother, who kept them safely tucked away—not for wealth, but for love.
It was, for a time, a perfect life.
The Day the Axes Came
But all perfect things must face the trials of time.
One morning, the red sun rose not to birdsong, but to the sound of axes and laughter. A hundred Englishmen had come from the distant lands Albert’s father had always warned about. They were thieves, conquerors, and builders of cities.
They chopped down the ancient trees—those same trees that had stood as guardians for centuries. With every swing of their axes, the forest cried. With every crash of a tree, a piece of Albert’s childhood was stolen.
“Quickly!” shouted Albert’s father. “Up the last great tree! To the clouds!”
Albert grabbed Archie, his golden harp, and his bag of coins, and began to climb. His parents followed, but they were old, and the tree was tall. Just as Albert reached the safety of the cloud above, the tree gave one final creak and crashed to the earth, taking his beloved parents with it.
Alone in the Sky
Now alone atop the clouds, Albert watched in despair as the Englishmen tore down his home and built their own. Where there had been trees, there were now towers. Where there had been birdsong, now echoed the sounds of hammers and shouting.
They moved their families in. They raised children who would never know the forest, only the city they built upon it.
Albert wept. His tears fell from the clouds and became rain. His harp sang songs of grief and thunder. He whispered memories to Archie, of laughter and soup and safety beneath the red trees. The golden goose never left his side.
The Beanstalk Rises
One night, Albert’s sorrow was so deep, his tears flooded the world below. Down in the human world, an English mother had tossed a handful of old beans into the garden of her son, Jack.
By morning, a beanstalk had sprouted—twisting, growing, and reaching for the heavens—fueled by Albert’s magical tears.
Albert awoke to a strange smell and a shiver of rage. Grief had hardened his heart, twisted his once-kind soul. As he looked down through the clouds, he sensed something new. A presence.
He stood and cried out, voice booming like thunder:
“Fee-fi-fo-fum!
I smell the blood of an Englishman!
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread!”
And thus, began the tale not just of Jack and the Beanstalk, but of Albert—the gentle giant who lost everything and became a figure of myth, heartbreak, and legend.
Moral of the Story:
Every legend has a beginning, and even the fiercest giants may have once had gentle hearts. Behind every tale of monsters, there may lie a tragedy never told.
