Morwenna and the Monkey – A Clever Girl Outsmarts a Candy Witch

Once upon a time in the bustling village of Cabbagewick, there lived a bold and curious girl named Morwenna Englisher. Known for her adventurous spirit and unusually sharp mind, Morwenna had a best friend named Doris Rockata, and one sunny afternoon, she set off through Shangri La Forest to visit her.

She had only meant to take a shortcut—but it wasn’t long before the winding trees grew thick, the paths disappeared, and the forest swallowed the trail behind her.

Worse still, when Morwenna reached into her satchel to clutch her beloved stuffed toy Georgie—he was gone.

Her heart sank. “I know I packed him,” she whispered, spinning in circles, eyes darting through the trees. To make matters worse, her stomach growled. She hadn’t brought any snacks either.

Then, quite unexpectedly, she spotted something most unusual: a monkey, standing upright, wearing a green mystical jacket. Without a sound, it slipped between the trees.

“How very strange,” said Morwenna. And since she had nothing better to do and was both lost and hungry, she decided to follow it.

The House of Temptation

Morwenna’s pursuit led her to a magical clearing, where two houses stood side by side. One was made entirely of glittering red apples, polished to perfection. The other sparkled with a rainbow of sugar and sweets, its candy cane beams and marshmallow tiles glowing under the sunlight.

Her mouth watered.

“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone home?”

Silence.

She eyed the sugary eaves of the candy house. Surely one nibble couldn’t hurt… maybe just the doorknob?

But before she could act on temptation, a sharp cackle split the air.

A crooked witch appeared, her nose twisted like a pretzel, her grin lined with sugarplum-stained teeth. She was dragging a small, gilded cage.

Inside the cage… was Georgie.

“Georgie!” Morwenna cried, rushing forward. “That’s my toy!”

The witch snorted. “Not anymore, it isn’t.”

“Let him go!”

“Not on your nelly,” she sneered.

Suddenly, from the far side of the clearing, the monkey in the green jacket returned, this time striding confidently.

“Good morning,” said the monkey in a gravelly voice, nodding to the witch. Then he saw the cage. “What’s this? A fine stuffed specimen!”

“I call him Georgie,” the witch replied.

“He would look marvelous in my study,” the monkey declared. “I’ll trade you.”

“No trades,” she snapped. “Unless… you can eat an entire front door.”

The monkey stroked his chin and eyed the sweet-covered house. “Easiest challenge I’ve had in weeks.”

The Monkey’s Mistake

He rolled up his sleeves, produced a knife and fork from his jacket pocket, and with great flair, took a seat. Morwenna watched nervously.

Bite after bite, the monkey devoured the sugar front door. Toffee hinges, caramel knobs, sherbet panels—gone.

But soon, he started to bloat. His face flushed red. His belly grew rounder and rounder… until he lost balance.

“Oh dear,” he muttered, tipping backwards.

Then, like a boulder, he rolled away—tumbling into the woods like a great, furry snowball.

The witch cackled. “That’s one challenger down! Georgie is mine.”

Morwenna clenched her fists. “There’s another door—the one made of apple. And I haven’t had my turn.”

“My game, my rules!” the witch said smugly.

But then a deep voice echoed through the trees. “Games should be fair.”

It was a woodcutter, tall and serious, with a sturdy axe slung over his shoulder.

“Give the girl a chance,” he said.

The witch scowled but relented. “Fine. You’ll regret it, child.”

The Apple Plan

Instead of lunging at the door, Morwenna walked into the woods, collected a bundle of sticks, and returned with determination in her eyes. She built a fire.

“What’s this?” scoffed the witch. “Tea time?”

“I’m cooking,” Morwenna replied calmly.

She broke off a piece of the apple-wood door, roasted it gently over the flames, cooled it slightly, and took a bite.

It was warm, tangy, and just sweet enough. She savored it slowly, allowing each piece to digest before taking more.

Hour by hour, bite by bite, Morwenna consumed the entire front door—baked, toasted, and thoughtfully paced.

At last, she swallowed the final roasted sliver and dusted her hands off.

“I’m done.”

The witch shrieked. “You cheated! That doesn’t count!”

The woodcutter stepped forward, axe in hand. “It counts. She followed the rules—you just didn’t expect her to be clever.”

Snarling, the witch opened the cage door. Morwenna ran to Georgie, scooping him into her arms and checking every stitch.

“Thank you,” she said to the woodcutter, slipping a shiny souvenir—a candy doorknob—into her bag.

As twilight painted the trees gold, she hurried off toward Doris’s house.

Sweet Victory

When Morwenna arrived, dusty and tired, Doris flung open the door and hugged her tightly.

“You’re so late! I thought something happened!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Morwenna grinned, producing the doorknob.

“What’s that?”

“Dessert.”

Doris’s jaw dropped as Morwenna unwrapped the sugary relic, ready to share the proof of her very strange, very real day.

Moral of the Story:

Strength isn’t always in size or speed. Sometimes, the smartest plan wins the game—especially when your heart’s in the right place.