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Join back to bedtime stories, bbc radio 2's 500 words podcast.
We have a brand new selection of stories from this year's fabulous young writers and i, for one, cannot wait to hear them.
Hey, can you turn that down a bit?
I'm just talking about the fabulous new stories we've had this year.
What you saying Yeah?
I did it!
Past level two on wizards and dragons!
Come on!
I said, can you turn it down a bit?
Hey, you've been on this game for ages now.
Can I have a go?
No.
I need to get to level three.
I found the golden chalice and now I've just got to find the dragon.
But that's not fair!
You're not sharing.
Let me have a go.
Come here.
Give me the controls.
They're mine!
No!
Don't press that button!
Diddy-dum!
Diddy-dum!
Can you hear me?
Hello?
Hello!
Over here!
What's happened?
Where are we?
Oh no!
Something very strange has happened!
I think we may have fallen into the game!
Oh no!
I don't think we might have found that!
The Countdown.
60 minutes to go.
A bell rang in the distance, echoing off the tall, daunting buildings.
I saw some fleeting figures out of the corner of my eye, long hair flying, their sallow faces bearing grim, determined expressions.
Dodging back inside my arms full of heavy boxes.
I looked around, checking that the corridor was empty before slipping silently back into the operations base.
Fifty minutes to go.
Concentrating my efforts on preparations, I nervously asked, Who's in command out there today?
Hoping whoever it was would know the necessary procedures.
Everything had to be done with pinpoint precision, or else havoc would reign and our carefully thought through plan would go to waste.
"'Is someone new today or so I've heard?' replied Smith, buttoning up his uniform swiftly.
"'Let's hope they paid attention in the briefing.'
I recalled the chaos and confusion last time there had been someone new in control.
Forty minutes to go.
My throat was dry.
I dashed to the tap to quickly quench my thirst.
Hearing my name being called, I hurried back to the others.
They needed help lifting a gigantic metal container brimming with a hot, bubbling liquid.
Hissing and spitting.
It was carefully moved onto a spotless cold metal surface before we crouched down to wipe away any trace of the molten substance from the floor.
Thirty minutes to go.
Our leader, Olcott, a tall and formidable figure, called a final briefing.
I stepped forward into the huddle and listened carefully.
Rarely a hair out of place, today she looked frantic.
Her eyes big and wide, she was gabbling out her instructions.
The smell of hot steel hung in the air, adding to the tension and reminding everyone of the tasks to come.
Twenty minutes to go.
The noise began, penetrating the walls and seeping through the floor.
We knew this was just a taster of what was to come.
With renewed energy, we continued our hurried preparations, placing tray after tray in their designated areas.
Ten minutes to go.
Are the doors still locked?
I questioned in a small, shaky voice, which sounded nothing like my own.
A few people quickly ran to the door to check that they were pushing chairs against them to help stop the gathering mass from getting in.
Nought minutes to go.
Small faces began to peer in at the windows, and the barricade started to rattle.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
Seven.
Six.
We looked out at the eager eyes and the crowded bodies squashed into the corridor, shoving and jostling to get through the door, the strongest pushing others out of the way, desperate to enter.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Unlock the doors?
The pupils flooded in.
We stood courageously in line, serving spoons at the ready.
Lunch is served.
The Talk To your average observer...
It was an ordinary afternoon at Ashwood Primary School.
The rowdy, tumultuous children of 6P rocked back and forth on cheap plastic chairs, straining to make room for them as they fidgeted, impatiently waiting for the talk to start.
The only adult present was the school nurse who had entered the classroom and written growing up on the whiteboard.
The hubbub of children was as bored as a spider, desperately waiting for prey to enter the strands of its web, although even this was a welcome break from Sat's revision.
All of the children had known the talk was imminent as the parents had all received the letter.
Dear parent carer, our school nurse will be giving a growing up talk to pupils in year six in the next few weeks.
This is in line with school policy and will consist of a talk to the children.
Should you have any concerns regarding this, please do not hesitate to contact your CHATS teacher.
Yours sincerely, R. Robinson.
Mr. R. Robinson, Headteacher.
When the registry had been taken, the school nurse stood up.
Quiet down, everyone, she said in a commanding voice.
Silence fell as slowly as a feather falling off a skyscraper.
Even the most sensible children struggled to settle down, giggling behind stifled grins.
I am sure some of you will have been undergoing changes recently as you approach adulthood.
Your body and personality will develop as you get older.
This might be completely new to you, or you may have already heard about the onset of superpowers.
The nurse was now talking to a group of silent pupils.
The giggling had faded and the class were all exchanging astonished looks.
You are all different and you will all develop at different ages and at different rates.
For example, I didn't know I could fly until I was 15.
Half the children had their hands up.
A young girl near the back began sobbing uncontrollably.
What's wrong, Ella? the nurse asked, rushing over to the weeping girl.
These are tears of relief, miss.
I've been able to speak to animals for months and I was worried that I was a freak.
Well, you certainly aren't.
This is all a part of growing up.
It can be a difficult time, but it happens to everyone.
Mr Pointer, their teacher, popped his head around the door.
How's it going in here?
A child put his hand up, straining his arm toward the ceiling with such desperate force that the children around him could almost see the question he had exploding out of him.
Yes, Billy?
What's, er, your... Well, isn't that obvious, Billy?
I can read minds.
The class immediately burst into conversation and almost everyone had their hands up.
Class 6P had a mind-reading teacher.
The days of crazy homework alibis were over.
Never bring a lion to school.
In my experience as a teacher, I would say that you should never bring a lion to school.
Please read this story as a warning.
It was the start of the week, and I especially hate the start of the week, as my students always look a bit glum.
I needed to cheer them up with something fantastic.
It was lunchtime when I came up with the exciting idea, and what an idea it was.
I grabbed my coat from the staff room and ran to my car.
As I drove, I was delayed by traffic lights.
Do you ever think there are too many traffic lights in the world?
I looked at my watch.
I only had 20 minutes.
I got back to school just before the end of lunch and quickly prepared the classroom for the big surprise.
I thought this could be excellent.
Teacher of the Year award in the bag.
Or a complete disaster.
Totally fired.
As my class came in, I told them to sit on the carpet because we'd be having story time.
I went into the cupboard at the back of the room and slowly pushed out a cage on wheels covered with a cloak.
I pulled off the cloak to reveal...
A golden lion inside the cage.
The children gasped, squealed and some jumped back.
I assured everyone that it was safe.
Well, to be fair, I hadn't actually done anything like this before, but the zookeeper told me this was their best behaved lion.
I opened the cage door and the lion tumbled out onto the carpet.
I placed our class reading book, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, out in front of him.
First he sat on it, then flipped it over, then scratched the front cover, then walked around it like it was prey he was about to pounce on.
When he finally opened the book, the children formed a circle around him, thinking that he would suddenly start reading.
Of course he didn't.
The children took turns to read the book out loud, and the lion was so interested in the story that he suddenly started to act the scenes out.
Only the ones with Aslan, of course.
He was like a pantomime dame and was loving the attention from the children.
This was funny until it was home time and the children would not leave, which was unusual for a Monday, and the lion would not finish up his extravaganza.
This got harder as more children from other classes joined to watch the show.
You might think that sounds like great fun, but no, it was more children for me to look after and school was finished.
I finally got the lion locked up again by shining a torch on the cage, making it look like a spotlight on a stage.
I had definitely cheered the children up.
But remember, never bring a lion to school or you'll never get home on time.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words The Bedtime Stories Podcast Here Dom, I fancy doing a bit of gaming.
Do you want to join me?
I'm just finishing cleaning up.
We have to keep the place nice and tidy.
Remember what happened last time?
That robot went all loopy and cleaned everything away.
Oh yeah, that was not fun.
I still can't find my remote control car.
Right, well I'll start and then you can come and join when you're ready.
Righto now, if I remember rightly, I have to go through this castle and find the golden chalice and fight the fearsome dragon.
Okay, here we go.
Whoa, what's happening?
It's all going glitchy.
Who are they?
I don't remember these characters being in the game last time.
Wait a minute.
That looks like the diddies.
Here, Dom.
Dom, come here quick.
You are not going to believe this.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
Bedtime Stories with Dick and Dom.
The Boy with a Wobbly Tooth Matthew, aged six, had his first wobbly tooth.
He had been waiting for this day to come for so long, but now it's actually here.
He didn't want his tooth to fall out.
He had watched all of his friends and his big brother lose their teeth.
They told him all about how the tooth fairy gave them money.
So he wobbled and wibbled and wobbled some more, but it was like a hand was keeping it in.
He tried everything to get it out.
He brushed it hard.
He brushed it softly.
He ate an apple.
Tried pulling it and wiggling it with his tongue.
But nothing ever worked.
Everyone thought his tooth was magic and would stay in forever.
One day, his mam said, Enough is enough.
We're going to the dentist.
Matthew didn't like the sound of that.
He went to bed that night thinking about how to get his wobbly, wobbly tooth out before the trip to the dreaded dentist.
He eventually drifted off to sleep.
He felt something tingling in his tooth.
He quickly felt his magical tooth to make sure it hadn't disappeared.
But when he did, he felt something tapping him on his finger.
He froze with shock.
What was it?
Was it his imagination or was there someone living in his tooth?
He pulled his finger from his mouth and there stood a little man.
He gasped with fright.
The little man waved at him, then whispered, Please don't lose this tooth.
It's my home.
Matthew didn't know what to say.
He was bewildered.
Was this the reason his tooth wouldn't come out?
The man jumped up onto his nose so Matthew could see him better.
He just looked like an ordinary man who had been shrunk down.
He explained to Matthew that he had been living in his tooth ever since Matthew was one years old and how much fun it had been and how lovely all the other people were who lived inside his other teeth.
Matthew looked shocked to find out that there was more than one of them living inside his mouth.
The man told Matthew he knew this day would come, that he would have to move out into someone else's tooth, but he hoped he might be able to stay a little while longer and that's why it was so hard for the tooth to come out.
But the man told Matthew he would move out that night, and with that he jumped down and slid back into his mouth.
The sunshine woke Matthew early the next morning and he sat straight up in bed, touched his tooth and it dropped straight out.
He couldn't believe it.
Then he remembered his strange dream.
Had there really been someone living in his tooth?
Or was it all just a dream?
Once there were two people, Grandma Jo and Grandpa.
Grandpa was always grumpy because when Grandma Jo retired she got very bored and gradually replaced absolutely everything with wool.
Imagine if every time you made a cup of tea, you burnt your hand because the tea cup was made of wool.
Once Grandpa was sitting on the saggy woollen sofa wondering how the new woollen TV would ever work.
How am I ever going to watch the football when there's a hole in the middle of the telly? he asked.
Grandma Jo said, You don't.
I just stand in here and tell you all about knitting.
One day, Grandma Jo had a realisation.
She had completely run out of things to knit.
Before she knew it, she found herself elbow-deep in a new jumper, with a cat on it, for her grandson Gruff.
'Grandpa'?
Grandma Jo said I've nearly finished Gruff's jumper, but She held up a finger for a dramatic pause.
I have completely run out of grey wool for the cat's eyes.
Grumpa knew what this meant.
He put down his soggy teacup, pulled on his woolen shoes and started the journey to the wool shop.
Darn knitting, he grumbled.
Minutes later, he returned with some shimmering grey wool.
Grandma Jo finished the jumper and they both went to their thread bed.
That night, the silence was broken by the clackety-clack of hundreds of clicking needles.
Every knitted item had suddenly started knitting the glittering grey wool.
But that wasn't the only magic.
Each pair of needles was creating knitted kitten after knitted kitten.
They were floating ghost-like out of the window and tumbling from the doors.
"'Darn knitting!' said Grumpa as he grumbled his way downstairs behind Grandma Jo.
When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Grandma Jo couldn't believe her eyes.
She was petrified.
Grumpa, however, just grunted.
He stomped to the cupboard, flung the door open and swung the knitted vacuum cleaner onto his shoulder like a handbag.
Starting in the kitchen, he hoovered up all the knitted kittens before heading into the living room and out of the door.
He ran around for hours chasing all the woolly cats in the silver moonlight as they rolled around the streets like silver pennies.
Eventually, he was finished.
Grandma Jo and Grumper sat down on the front step.
''I'll miss those woolly cats,'' Grandma Jo said.
Darn cat, Grandpa started, but he then quickly looked towards the hoover.
There was a meowing sound coming from it.
Grandma Jo said, Darling, would you please open the hoover?
Grumper crept towards the hoover, opened the lid and looked down.
Inside there was a purring grey kitten with glinting grey eyes.
Carefully he picked it up and gave it to Grandma Jo.
Kashmir the cat kept Grandma Jo very busy.
So busy, in fact, that she didn't have time to knit every day anymore.
As they sat down together with Kashmir, curled on their laps, to watch the football on their new working telly, Grandpa smiled.
The 500 Words Bedtime Stories Podcast with Dick and Dom.
Mischief and mayhem at the menacing zoo.
It's six o'clock and the zoo has closed.
The last person has left and the gates are shut.
The zookeepers are picking up the litter and checking that the animals are all settled in their cages.
The zookeepers go home and the zoo is all safe for the night.
Or is it?
The lights are switched off for about five seconds.
Then, bam!
The disco starts.
The dazzling chameleons change color like disco lights.
Everyone is having a good time until, in the reptile house, something happens.
It's a fight between two hairy spiders, Spider-Man versus Spider-Woman.
It's a fight to the death.
Who's going to win?
But please, let's have no violence for the moment.
Let's have some L-O-V-E.
Snakes.
They may seem deadly, which they are, but when the clock strikes seven, L-O-V-E gets serious.
The slithery snakes get into all kinds of tangled knots together and kiss with tongues.
Eww!
Over in the water park there's a coronation taking place, where a fancy flamboyant flamingo is being crowned.
She is given a tiara made of sparkly, shiny seaweed and everybody celebrates by waving flags made from beautiful pink, fluffy feathers to honour her as Queen of the Water.
For entertainment.
The regal penguins are surfing on the seals' slippery backs, spraying water everywhere.
For the music.
Strangely, the hippos are burping God Save Our Gracious Queen at the top of their voices, which is very odd but really funny and entertaining for the coronation crowd.
But on the other side of the zoo, it's the Animal Olympics.
Jaguar versus panther in a running race.
But nobody is there to watch because panther is obviously going to outrun jaguar.
Now for the sloths.
They are feeling a bit miserable because their food has gone all cold, as it took them too long to reach their food bowl.
Meanwhile, the monkeys couldn't care less about the chaos and mayhem.
They are too busy arguing over who should get the biggest banana, while the elderly elephants are leisurely having afternoon tea, which is a sight to see.
They are delicately holding china cups with their trunks.
You can imagine how hard it must be.
They haven't even got to the cucumber sandwiches yet.
You may realize that I haven't mentioned any giraffes.
This is because they are all in hospital.
The zookeepers found them on the ground unconscious after suffering a limbo injury.
They knocked themselves out on the welcome sign as they were too tall to get underneath it.
All of this is a sight to see.
So, reader, if you decide to go for a walk at night, I advise you not to go to the zoo.
Although it might be worth a little peep.
Oh, heck, this dragon is very fearsome.
Quick, come and hide in this turret.
Oh, no, this is not fun.
What are we going to do?
I don't know, but we'd better come up with a plan.
And quick, we've got to break out of here.
The Grocery Shop Breakout Once upon a time there was an orange named Otis.
He didn't like being entrapped on a shelf in a grocery shop.
He remembered his lovely life living in a tree in the hot sun and wasn't very happy at all about being picked, shoved onto a plane in a box and sent to a dull shop in rainy Horsham.
Otis had made some good friends in the shop, though.
There was Lionel Lemon, who was nice enough, but a bit sour.
Bob Banana, who hung with his mates in a gang.
And Ollie Onion, who came from underground, unlike the others.
The fruity friends were talking one day about sunshine and warm breezes and how they missed the old days.
This was the time when Otis first had the idea.
I wish we could get out of here, said Otis sadly.
I don't like being trapped in this shop.
The others agreed.
I'm starting to dry up, said Lionel unhappily.
And Bob is turning brown.
We need some sunshine, agreed Bob.
So let's escape, said Otis excitedly.
You are crazy, said the others.
No fruit escape from this place.
We need a plan, said Otis.
So the fruit started to plan their escape.
The next morning they were ready to make their move.
An old lady came up to the fruit and picked up Lionel and squeezed him.
Ouch, he said.
She put him in a shopping bag and Otis and Bob and his banana gang also jumped in.
Ollie Onion saw this happening and pounced in too.
I've been waiting weeks to escape, he said happily.
The old lady took the bag to the checkout and put the items on the conveyor belt.
I don't want onions, bananas or oranges, she said frustratedly.
She started to put them back when Lionel squirted sour lemon juice into her eyes.
She felt angry and confused.
The friends rode on the conveyor belt and rolled towards the doorway.
The old lady was screaming and the security guard came.
Oh no, said Otis gloomily.
We are in trouble now.
The security guard arrived and picked up Ollie.
He peeled himself and made the security guard cry.
He dropped Ollie.
Well done, Ollie, said Otis.
Let's roll towards the exit.
I can see sunlight.
The security guard called the police, who came running into the shop.
Put your hands in the air, said the police.
You don't have any.
Put whatever you have in the air.
Just then, Bob and his friends took off their skins and spread them on the floor.
The banana skins made the policemen slip and they fell all around them.
The friends made their final roll out of the shop.
We made it, Otis said.
Good job, everyone.
Let's enjoy the sunshine.
The 500 Words Bedtime Stories podcast with Dick and Dom.
The gnomes of Sherbert Springs.
It was a warm summer's morning in Sherbert Springs and Monty McJingles, deputy head gnome, was peacefully enjoying his breakfast pancakes on his butterscotch balcony.
They were perfect, round and golden, soft and fluffy with crispy edges.
They were slathered in syrup, an array of fruits and a dollop of whipped cream.
Perfect.
After quickly devouring them, Monty headed off to Fudge Forest for an important meeting with his boss, Tipsy Fiddlesticks.
He strolled cheerfully down Ladyfinger Lane, past the Hobnob Houses, along Rolo River and into Fudge Forest.
Laid in the centre of the gingerbread grass was a pastry picnic blanket decorated, covered in a variety of sweet treats freshly picked from the forest.
There at the side stood Tipsy, who joyfully greeted Monty, and they began their meeting while munching on the feast.
Nearby sat Honeycomb Hills.
It was a popular destination for gnomes to take in the views of Sherbert Springs, the meringue mills, waffle cone waterfalls, jellybean jungles and much more.
Climbing the hills were best friends Nibbles Milkybonk and Dimples Tumbleberry.
They skipped happily up the hills, occasionally nibbling on the rock face and licorice pencil railings because, after all, it was edible.
Until... Crack!
The hill shuddered, disturbing the delicate honeycomb, causing it to snap.
It cascaded down, nibbles and dimples on board, into fudge forest.
Suddenly, a large shadow towered over Monty and Tipsy.
They glanced upwards to see a huge piece of honeycomb plummeting towards them.
With no time to think, they dived off the pastry blanket and into the brownie bushes.
Bang!
The honeycomb hit the ground, two gnomes beside it.
Monty and Tipsy ran over to Nibbles and Dimples to make sure they weren't injured.
Luckily, no gnome was damaged, but the honeycomb hills were, and needed repairing quickly.
But how could something so big be fixed in such little time?
After numerous minutes of hard thinking, they came up with a plan.
All gnomes would report to Cheesecake Centre and they would make a sturdy piece of honeycomb to replace the old one.
Nibbles, Dimples.
Monty and Tipsy gathered the gnomes and ordered them to bring all the ingredients needed to make the honeycomb sugar syrup and baking soda.
Into a saucepan went in the ingredients.
It was placed onto a hob and it began to bubble.
Once it had risen, the gnomes poured it into a tin and it was left to cool.
Several moments later, the honeycomb had set and was ready to be carried to the hills.
But just one problem.
It was too big for the gnomes to carry.
Fortunately, instantaneously, Monty appeared in a tiramisu truck and the honeycomb was loaded on.
They navigated over pavlova pebbles, around shortbread shops and through gelato gardens.
Finally, they had reached the hills and each gnome helped heave the honeycomb off the truck, position it, secure it with buttercream and gently add licorice pencil railings.
And from that day on, Monty McJingles, Tipsy Fiddlesticks Nibbles, Milkybonk and Dimples Tumbleberry became inseparable friends.
The Rise of the Phoenix.
As he awoke, he yawned and stretched before preening his feathers of iridescent beauty, the colour of molten copper.
He arose from his nest, cleverly created out of branches that had slowly blackened to the colour of coal over time.
From his gentle snoring.
In the bed next to him, his friend the wizard, also awoke, his scarlet robes in their full glory, shimmering in the morning sunlight.
From the day he had hatched from his gnarly egg a year ago, the phoenix had never been able to fly.
Try as he might, he was never able to take flight.
He had told his friend the wizard that more than anything in the world he wished he could fly like a phoenix should.
The wizard understood how upsetting it was for him.
He had always been teased by his friends.
He had found a recipe for a potion, and that day they were setting off on a treacherous journey to find the key ingredient a magic puff fruit.
They had set out early that morning.
The duo had now reached the forest, known for being a dangerous place.
Raindrops glistened like jewels on the leaves and branches from the early morning rain, which had now disappeared.
Suddenly they heard heavy breathing and thundering footsteps.
Searing flames billowed out from behind a towering spruce tree.
They ran and hid, afraid the monster would find them.
Then they saw it two beady green eyes, a black, twitchy nose.
They gasped, shivering with fear.
Then came a soft voice hello, it called.
It was big, hairy and kind of ugly, but didn't sound like a monster.
Sorry about the flames.
I sneezed.
I'm sure I have a cold coming.
What are you doing in the forest?
They explained they were on a mission to find the magic puff fruit for something very important, and their new friend told them he knew exactly where they could find one.
They were overjoyed and immediately set off with their new companion.
They travelled for days over vast fields, crashing foamy oceans and through humid jungles.
They were becoming weary when suddenly, the craggy mountain they had been searching for came into sight, carved and etched into the face of the mountain.
Many centuries before, by the endemic people of the land, was the symbol of the puffroot.
This was it.
Without hesitation, the trio sprinted up the mountain, where they found one lonely puff fruit hanging from a dense branch.
This was all they needed to make the potion.
Quickly.
They picked the fruit, combined some other ingredients and the potio volantes, meaning flying potion, was ready to drink.
The phoenix anxiously took a sip, flapped his wings and began to rise into the air.
He couldn't believe it.
He wept uncontrollably with joy.
He had never felt so happy.
These two extraordinarily kind people had unimaginably changed his life forever.
And he would never forget it.
Ever.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
The Bedtime Stories Podcast.
So basically, what you're telling me is somehow the diddies have managed to get themselves trapped inside this video game and are about to be eaten by a dragon.
Yep, that pretty much sums it up.
Well, we have to do something.
We have to help them.
Tell you what, grab a controller.
That's the only way.
We have to capture the dragon and take the golden chalice to the wise wizard and win the game.
Oh, okay.
Not much then.
Right, come on then.
Take that, you fearsome dragon!
Yes!
That's it, Dom!
Now, grab the golden chalice!
Come on, ditties!
Run!
Look!
There's the wizard's castle!
Quick!
In through the drawbridge!
Go upstairs!
And he's in the tower!
Oh, well done, team.
You passed the muddling mage, fought the fierce dragon and returned the stolen chalice back to its rightful owner.
You win.
Game over.
Oh, what happened, Diddy Dom?
We are back in our treehouse.
Oh, me head feels all squishy, like a marshmallow.
How do we get back?
I don't know.
Hold on, I think we've had some help.
But I don't know where from.
I don't think I'm going to play computer games after this for a while.
I think I'll read a book instead.
I think I'm going for a lie down.
Well, that's the end of that.
If you're feeling inspired to write a story, then here's a top tip from our friends at Oxford University Press.
Choosing a title.
You shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but choosing the right title can encourage readers to pick up your story.
Try to think of an attention grabbing title to make your story stand out.
The title you choose could give the reader a hint about what the story will be about.
It might tell them what type of story it is something about the main character or setting, or something about the ideas and events in the story.
Don't forget to like and subscribe and we'll see you next week.
Goodbye!
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