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Welcome back to Bedtime Stories, the home of BBC Radio 2's 500 Words podcast.
Mate, I've decided.
I'm ready to make my way in the world as a trapeze artist.
I've always thought that my nimble moves and innate strength were going to waste.
Sounds great, mate.
How are you going to do that?
Well, the circus is in town for just one week only.
The most exceptional traveling circus in Europe.
And the ringmaster is none other than Shelly Showstopper, the greatest choreographer in the world!
Shelly Showstopper?
None other.
They're holding auditions tomorrow.
That only gives me a day to prepare.
Well then, we need to get you ready.
You'll need a dazzling outfit, some equipment and a ruthless fitness regime.
Yes.
Yes, and yes!
Before we do that, we'd better introduce this week's collection of stories.
Good idea, my friend, good idea.
And what a collection we have today.
This week's fabulous feast of tales will show you that, with a sprinkling of resilience determination, faith and teamwork, we can overcome adversity.
Now, let's get you circus ready, Dom.
We have a lot to be getting on with.
The 500 Words Bedtime Stories Podcast with Dick and Dom.
All creatures need to get out of here.
Slithers.
Tarrant eyed around the dense wilderness of the jungle until he saw a nest of snakes curled nearby a tree.
Chick.
And last of all, rodents.
Chick.
Terence stroked his hairy chin with one of his eight even hairier legs.
All the crawlies used to think he did this because he was nervous.
They soon realised he only ever did this before making important announcements.
Welcome, my friends, Terence's voice boomed loudly.
Once again, it's that time of year when two-legged creatures will be invading our jungle.
They will come here, set camp at this very spot, trample on this very soil, snatch our families and confine us in dark spaces that are tight and inescapable.
They will capture many of you and eat the most vulnerable amongst us.
At this, the jungle exploded in an outburst of noise hissing snarling, squeaking.
A team of maggots began to writhe and squirm furiously, understandably so, as they were usually the first culprits.
Now, one of the two-legged creatures is called Ant.
In solidarity with our ant colony, we refuse to accept this.
It is an insult to steal our most hard-working comrade's name.
Queen Ant fluttered her wings and Tarrant knew she was happy at this statement.
Despite their occasional differences, usually when one of her soldiers found themselves trapped in his web and ultimately his belly Tarrant respected the Queen and her colony.
I've invited everyone to brief you on how we need to proceed.
Slithers.
I want to see those fangs.
And if they dig into the creatures, even better.
Yes, sir.
We will impress you this year.
Next, we have crocs and gators.
You must get those snappers ready to snap.
Stop making it easy for those creatures to capture you.
Bare those teeth, shed those tears and snap away chunks of their flesh.
Rodents, running up and down their chambers won't do the job.
Squeak, scurry, scamper, bite nor tear.
These creatures must fear us and never return.
You hear me?
The rodent pack squealed and jumped with excitement at this command.
We will keep our land, Tarrant bellowed.
All the jungle cheered in jubilation.
The crocs were shedding real tears of joy.
The snakes slithered in anticipated excitement.
The maggots ravenously devoured the rest of the meat.
The ants, however, had gone back to work.
Let's scare them off this year.
Let's celebrate.
By getting them out of here!
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words Bedtime Stories For the last time.
For the last time, will you please place it on the table?
Her mother said quietly.
Her brothers and sisters were happily playing upstairs, but as the eldest, she was expected to help.
So she carefully and proudly lifted the shiny silver menorah from its place on the sideboard and put it in pride of place in the centre of the table.
She was a little disappointed that she couldn't join the games with her siblings, but knew she had to be responsible.
The room was well decorated and cosy, clean and ready for the start of the traditional Sabbath meal.
Grandfather called the other children to come to the table and Mother prepared to light the candles.
Their warm, flickering light filled the cosy room as everyone huddled into it.
They all sat at the strong oak table, waiting patiently for the delightful food that Mother was to bring in.
Any second now.
Just at that moment, Mother did bring it in.
The smell was delightful, a smell of family, tradition, home, warmth and safety.
She couldn't wait to eat it.
The latkes, traditional potato pancakes, were carefully given out.
Everyone dug in greedily, the lovely taste piled into their mouths.
The Rosens, you know, began her grandmother while finishing off her latkes.
Not now.
Not in front of the children, protested her mother, raising her eyebrows in a warning manner.
Let's enjoy the moment.
We are all here together, she added.
After the main course, the plates were cleared to the kitchen and left, while Mother quickly brought in the colourful cheery, bright doughnuts that she had spent the afternoon making.
All the children stared at them, their mouths watering.
Everyone grabbed one before they all went, even Grumpy Grandmother.
Biting into this sweet, wonderful dessert was like tasting a dream.
There was one left on the plate.
Before anyone could grab it, they heard noise and shouting in the street.
With a pale face, her mother stood and quietly asked everyone to get their coats.
No one spoke.
They just obeyed.
The noise outside was getting louder children crying, women screaming and strong male voices heartlessly shouting Alle Juden raus.
Then it came.
The knock at their door.
There was a frightened look in her mother's eyes that no one had seen before.
Her grandmother stood there quivering and her grandfather was biting his lip, like he always did when he was nervous.
Her mother told them all to pick up the one bag they'd been told they could take and they put on their coats with the yellow star sewn on the front.
With her head held high, her mother led them outside, the whole family.
Friends and neighbours were in the street, some getting into trucks already half full of people, others watching.
Without speaking, they slowly made their way to a truck and her mother shut the front door to their home for the last time.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
Bedtime Stories.
Over the gate.
The light beamed in my eyes as I spun endlessly through the candy floss-like clouds.
The best feeling is having the wind in your furry exterior.
All eyes were on me as I elegantly ended my flight with another whack.
I found myself flipping rotating, twirling and turning over the rusted green gates to the worst place on earth.
A place filled with ruthless monsters, four-legged savages who desire to tear apart my flesh.
Desperation was filled in their menacing eyes that pierced into their next victim's innocent soul.
Shivers shot down my spine.
As I heard their blood-curdling barks, i rolled down the many acres of green blanket below and sniffed a deadly stench.
Revolting, actually so sickening i believed i was going to faint.
Suddenly the ground erupted into vigorous shakes.
I felt sweltering hot breath at the back of my neck.
I knew that it couldn't be good.
A hairy creature with teeth as sharp as knives sprinted up to me.
He proceeded to bite me viciously with his fangs and attempted to rip apart my outside.
Please let me go, I trembled.
No response.
Could he not hear me?
Was this gibberish to him?
Then a familiar hand came from above.
Maybe it heard my prayers, I thought.
The hand grabbed onto me and tried to save me from the nasty beast.
The shaggy demon had iron-like jaws and slobber that went everywhere.
However, the amazing heroic being from above did not give up.
It returned with a meaty-smelling biscuit in between its two fingers.
This possessed the freak, hypnotising him somehow.
It dropped me.
I fell hundreds of feet, feeling like thousands.
I shouted at the top of my lungs, ''Thank you!'' as my voice echoed and bounced off of the tall, intimidating trees.
I then found myself rolling down a hill.
When I reached the bottom, I froze.
I was lonely, cold, and unable to move a muscle.
I gazed at the sky on the furry green surface that covered the park like icing on a cake.
I thought that it was the end for me.
My eyes gently closed.
My crusty eyes closed. were all blurry as they slowly opened.
My eyelids felt like weights.
Was this heaven?
Then I remembered it was a park and my day was going horribly.
All of a sudden, a warm soft, welcoming voice greeted me with the beautiful words ''I found it, ma'am.
I was saved.
What a scary but adventurous day.''
I was flying through the air again, feeling nothing could stop me.
The light filled the sky as I endlessly spun through the fluffy white clouds.
Again all eyes were on me as I ended my flight with another gigantic whack.
However, something felt oddly familiar.
Was it the wind?
Was it the sun?
Nope, it was the hit.
The powerful hit that sent me over in the first place.
Who would have thought a game of tennis could do this much harm?
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words The Bedtime Stories Podcast Keep going, keep going.
You're strong.
You're a champion.
You want this.
Yes, I can do this.
I'm strong.
I'm a champion.
I want this.
Five seconds more.
Four, three, two, one.
Yes!
You did it!
I think you're ready now, my friend.
I'm ready.
I'm ready to show Shelley what I'm made of.
Good, good.
Let's go.
The audition is right around the corner.
Oh, dicky-doo-dah.
There's hundreds of people here.
I'm really not sure I can do this.
Stop that right now.
I'm not hearing any of it.
The circus would be lucky to have you, mate.
And Shelley's showstopper is going to love you.
You're right.
You're right.
I've got this.
I can see her.
Look, she's wearing a flamingo pink headdress.
She looks formidable.
I can't wait to meet her.
I'm going to show her my best moves.
Oh, I think I'm up.
Wish me good luck.
Good luck, mate.
You've got this.
Hi, I'm Ozzy and, well, I'm a fly.
My story starts 24 hours ago when I graduated from Blue Bottle Academy.
Congratulations on passing your Busky certificate.
It only seems like years today when you had it, but it's actually been 18 days, said Professor Buzzle.
Before you set off into the thrilling world, may I remind you of our two values that will help you succeed in life.
S for speed, H for harass and hyper buzzing at all times.
The humans hate it.
Oh for obstinate, never give up, no matter what, and seek opportunities using your optics and following odours.
We salute the poo.
Remember The fly receiving the highest number of flips, flubs and swats.
When the buzzer goes, we'll win the shoe award.
Good luck and may the shoe be with you.
After a rapturous buzz, a moving black cloud of eager flies swarmed up into the sky.
Some went left, others went right, but I, I went higher and higher, feeling the wind against my coarse bristles until besplat, I clumsily landed on a horse.
Dizzily, I followed the smell to a steaming pile of manure.
This was perfect.
I somersaulted and oozed into the warmth, rubbing it all over like soap, during which thousands of images created a polaroid of my target.
Wickedly, rubbing my legs together, I formed my cunning plan.
My training days were over.
It was time to put Shu into practice.
I flew at the speed of a bullet to the unexpected picnickers, leapfrogging from shoulders to heads, to arms, to legs, to Mmm cake.
I waltzed tangoed and American smoothed my way across the dance floor, leaving poo trails and elegant swirls on the icing.
Yes!
My first human SWAT!
The reward of this motivated me to return again and again.
Tenacity was my middle name.
I was like a child in a sweet shop.
I created a scene of men karate chopping, women performing manic disco dances, newspapers wafting, napkins flicking.
And as for the rude words, Just when they thought they had caught me, I sprung out of the way for added annoyance.
Regrettably, the buzzer went off when I was doggy paddling through the strawberries and cream.
All flies reunited in the hall, buzzing about their day's adventure.
Some chairs now empty, and alas, many limping.
Professor Buzzle tapped the mic.
Ahem, it's my honour to announce the winner of the shoe award.
It goes to A hush spread across the room and millions of speakerphone eyes pierced the stage in anticipation.
Ozzy!
Is it?
Could it?
Was it me?
I let off an almighty buzz and bounced off the walls, not able to contain my pride.
Just one more somersault should do it, from the top right corner.
And here I am, eight giant eyes peering down and eight hairy legs dominating over me.
Unfortunately, no amount of flips, flaps and swats can save me now.
Karma, said a passing human.
The year was 2039.
Wars, disease and the climate had made the planet chaotic.
Pollution, violence and sickness gripped the air.
Parents told their children to watch out for themselves, to be wary of those who look different, to stay away from the sick.
At some point the world had turned ugly.
Kindness had given way to anger, affection to selfishness and acceptance to rejection.
Fear had turned cherished values upside down.
One sunny day, somewhere on this merciless planet, two children bumped into each other.
Tom was standing on a beach looking at the ocean, which he wasn't allowed to go into because of the acidity.
He noticed a boat coming towards him.
As the boat got closer, he saw a little boy.
In a matter of seconds, the boat washed up on the shore right next to him.
Arb, said the boy faintly.
Ab, Ab, said the boy pointing to himself, and my name is Tom.
The boy stepped off the boat and after taking two steps towards Tom, collapsed.
Ab, Vata, he said again, this time pointing his finger towards his mouth.
Water, Tom realised.
The boy needed water.
Tom ran to his house next to the beach.
A boy just came on a boat.
Who needs water?
Shouted Tom, bursting into the kitchen where his parents were eating.
Don't go out, stay here, said his dad.
He may have a disease.
But dad, he may die.
That's not our problem.
He should have stayed where he was from, said his mum.
Tom couldn't convince his parents, but he also couldn't let the boy die.
He grabbed a carton of drinking water and ran out of the house.
What are you doing?
Do you know how much those cartons cost? shouted his dad after him.
Tom found the boy almost unconscious on the beach.
On reaching the boy, Tom opened the carton of water and helped the boy to drink from it.
He kept drinking.
After a few minutes the boy seemed to come back to life.
The boy suddenly grabbed Tom's wrist and pressed hard.
He took out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and put it in Tom's hands.
Tom couldn't make out the writing.
He ran with the paper back to his home.
His parents were furious with him.
Nevertheless, he handed the paper to his parents.
His mum straightened out the paper and read.
People on beach.
I send sun to bring you urgent news.
You must leave beach now.
There is big storm coming.
Tell everyone to leave their homes and move inland.
The waves may destroy your houses.
The parents realised the boy on the boat had risked his life to save theirs.
They understood that their own attitudes had been wrong.
If it wasn't for the values of Tom and the boy, they may have lost their lives.
It was an average Monday night.
My family and I were just sitting down for supper when the news came on TV, declaring a state of emergency, that we had just one week left before all the world's energy would run out forever.
There was global anarchy.
Imagine life without power to cook, lights to see.
How would I charge my iPad?
And most importantly, how are my dad and I going to watch Match of the Day?
There must be a solution.
I had just one week to think harder than I have ever thought before.
I could not give up hope.
Not now, just as Liverpool were about to win the Premier League.
How could the world produce enough power that does not damage our planet further?
Quite the conundrum.
There must be something that every country has in common which could unite everyone together.
I remember reading about how football is a global sport and that over 250 million people play football around the world.
That's a lot of people.
I've got it!
Maybe the solution has been in front of us all this time.
Before I do anything else, I need to test my theory.
Not many people will take a nine-year-old boy's idea seriously if I do not have evidence to back it up.
I will test my idea during tomorrow's school football match.
We've been doing a lot of science recently at school and we learned all about kinetic energy and how it is eco-friendly.
Plus, since my parents bought a Fitbit for me for Christmas, I have been very interested in how many steps I am doing each day.
If I can combine both these two things together, maybe we can find the solution.
To test my idea, I needed the assistance of my good friend Kobe, who just happens to be a computer whiz kid.
Everyone on my team wore their smartwatches ready for the match, which were connected wirelessly to the school's power supply.
My team worked harder than they have ever worked before.
During the game, something very strange happened.
It seems that not only is football the best game in the world, but it also has superpowers.
Not only did my idea work, but our match managed to power all the schools in the whole of England.
For every step we made, it produced a million times worth of energy.
I knew football was special, but I had no idea how powerful it could be.
This has to be the answer we have been looking for.
The word quickly spread about our success and all the football teams around the world joined in to see if it was true.
In just one day of playing the beautiful game, the world's energy supply was saved forever.
From that day forward, it was remembered as the day football saved the world.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
The Bedtime Stories podcast.
Patrick, Pat, the rabbit, was very sad.
He was very old.
His fur was grey on his paws and around his mouth, and his bones were aching.
His baby rabbits had all grown up and moved away and had bunnies of their own.
His mum and his dad had died many years ago and he missed talking to them.
But most of all he missed his lovely wife Pearl, all the time.
Pat was also fed up of running from the mean farmer who was always chasing him with his gun.
He never dug any holes anymore and he only ate the carrots easy to dig up these days.
Today it was raining and grey, the sky was black and the grass was muddy and wet.
And it was really windy and cold.
So Pat decided to hide in the barn until the rain stopped before he went looking for carrots.
As Pat dried off from the rain, he drifted to sleep.
Pat woke up. feeling very warm.
He could see the bright sunshine coming through the walls of the barn and he could hear rabbits' chilly, chilly chit-chatting coming from outside.
Pat started to creep outside.
His bones felt light and he noticed the fur on his paws was a lovely brown color, like they used to be.
Pat's bones didn't ache, and he didn't feel sad, but he didn't know why.
Outside he noticed the grass was so green it didn't look real.
It almost sparkled.
It was so soft it felt like he was walking on green clouds.
And there were piles of carrots everywhere with no mud on them.
He wouldn't even have to dig them up or wash them.
Then he saw a little way away under a tree there was a group of about 50 rabbits, all whispering and smiling and watching him.
Suddenly he saw a beautiful lady rabbit step forward and walk towards him with her arms open and crying.
Pat gasped and nearly swallowed his little rabbit tongue.
It was Pearl.
He ran to her and he kissed her all over her face and he cried and he said to Pearl I have missed you so much, my love.
And she cuddled him so tight and whispered in his ear I have been waiting a long time for you, Pat.
He then realised he recognised the shapes and voices of the rabbits standing nearby, all watching him and smiling.
It was his mum and dad, his aunties and his uncles and even his nan and grandad.
He looked at Pearl dazed and she smiled and she said, They have been waiting too long.
Pat was so happy, but so confused.
As he cried with happiness into Pearl's fur, he whispered Pearl, I am so happy.
I feel like I am in heaven.
To which Pearl replied with a smile, My wonderful, beautiful Pat, you are.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words the bedtime stories podcast.
I did the triple somersault flip, jumping up to the highest platform for the finish.
My balance went for a split second and i thought for a second that i was gonna trip.
But i remembered that it was all in my mind.
I'd landed the routine perfectly this morning so i could just do it.
I just needed to believe in myself.
As i looked up, there was shelly showstopper in a fabulous flamingo pink headdress below the platform with a big grin on her face.
And then she clapped and the other panelists clapped as well.
And what did they say?
What did they say?
Do they want you in the circus?
They do.
I'm going to the circus.
Dickie, I made it.
I'm leaving tonight.
The 500 Words Bedtime Stories Podcast with Dick and Dom.
The pain from the rain.
It started as a pitter-patter, but then it grew fatter and fatter.
The water levels began to rise as all the footbaths began to hide.
It travelled and covered all the floors, and next it knocked on people's doors.
People moved their possessions higher, including photos, on the shelf above the fire.
As the drops began to grow, the damage it caused would soon show.
As it swept through people's homes, it even swept away the garden gnomes.
They were feeling more panic than before.
They tried to block up their front door, raising sofas, tables and chairs.
In defeat, they were forced upstairs.
Looking through the window pane, all they could see was rain rain, rain.
The streets looked like a big lagoon reflecting off the big, bright moon.
The pumps outside were on full blast.
Who knew how long this water would last?
As the morning light drew near, all they sensed was fear fear, fear.
The water levels in their homes grew higher, but had even now reached the shelf above the fire.
There was nothing more they could do.
The water was brown and dirty, not blue.
A small bag each they packed, with not even enough clothes to last.
They called the heroes outside, to rescue them on the boat ride.
As the boat went down the road, now a river, their heart went cold with an ache and a shiver.
Where would they go?
Or for how long?
Who did know?
But as they got to the hotel on the hill, they saw their neighbours, Betty and Bill.
The kindness of all the village was clear.
There were beds and food for all us here.
Together we would be until we were water free.
At last the rain began to stop, allowing the water levels to drop.
Finally the day came when they could go into their homes again.
Their hearts began to groan as they saw the mess inside their home.
Where would the clean-up begin with so much ruin?
They did not have to have such fear, as they had good neighbours near.
With mops, brooms and hands to lend, the house would soon be on the mend.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
Bedtime Stories.
Will I get out?
I have been trapped here for two days but it feels like forever.
I miss hearing the infectious laughter of cheerful children.
I miss the feel of the blinding sun warming my rough skin.
I miss the exciting chaos rampaging around me.
Will I ever get out of this hellhole?
It's so dark in here.
It's as dark as the night.
I hope they haven't forgotten about me.
I hope I'm not decaying away.
This room feels so big.
It actually sends a chill down my spine as things start to cramp up against me.
I can only hear voices outside.
Sometimes it's very noisy out there.
Sometimes it's so quiet and eerie.
I feel like this place, which I hate, will be my home for as long as I live.
I just want to be out of here.
Time is slowly slipping away.
I feel like I am deflated.
If only I could find a way to get out of here.
I wish that door can open so I can bounce out of here.
I miss the sun.
I miss the laughter and the cheer.
From where I am trapped, I can see a tiny pinhole of light.
My only glimpse of the outside world.
I cannot wait until the day a key fills the hole of light and lets me out to the world I have always loved.
Then, all of a sudden, the cupboard door opens.
Oh, the light!
Oh, the light is so bright it feels like it's burning me.
Freedom at last!
As my sense of sight starts to recover from the wounding sun, I can see the gleaming smiles shining at me.
We've found a ball!
I feel so elated.
This is the first voice I have heard since I was left isolated.
A boy picks me up and I can feel the fresh, cool air breezing past me.
It looks a bit flat, he says.
Let's pump some air into it.
I am finally out.
Finally.
I can feel the adrenaline rushing through me.
This is all I wanted.
Being rushed through the air into the net.
Wow.
Oh, that spinning made me feel dizzy.
Oh, here's Fajar.
She shoots.
What a goal.
The crowd roars.
Look at her dramatic celebration.
What a powerful tackle.
Here's Fajar again.
The goalie goes in for the save and she shoots.
What a powerful shot.
It's another goal.
The ref whistles for full time.
Syria have won.
Time for bed.
Mama interrupts.
Have you filled the water bucket?
Sorry, Mama, I groan.
You aren't playing those fantasy games again, are you, Habibti?
I lumber into my scruffy tent and dive into my decaying sheets.
I wish I was a real footballer.
Then we could afford to live in a proper house, not in a lousy refugee camp.
I hardly sleep a wink that humid night under the Syrian moon.
I am too busy remembering the bright green shutters of our old home.
But that's gone now.
I wake with a start.
We need to find cover, Mama cries.
The Alcanabil are coming.
Bright, burning flames crash against the dry earth.
Scarlet ashes scatter as if they are being hunted down.
The earth shakes under the weight of the thunderous weapons.
The noise is deafening.
We slip and stumble away from the camp, trying to find cover.
Quick, to the mountains, I know a route up there, I call out to Mama behind me.
As we clamber up the steep cliff, I hear a high-pitched scream.
I shudder.
Death is on the doorstep for us all.
We find a craggy cave hidden behind a tattered tree atop the mountainous rocks.
We lie huddled on the rough floor, wondering what to do next.
I wake at dawn, shivering from the cold.
I sneak out, careful not to wake Mama.
Under the horizon.
I can vaguely make out the shape of the camp blackened and charred from the alcanabil.
Sadness overcomes me.
This is the second time my home has been destroyed.
I look around to see if there is anything to eat.
I distinguish a cluster of figs high up in the branches of the tree.
I stretch, but I can't reach them.
What should I do?
Then I spot a rusty can amongst the rocks.
I pick it up and place it about a metre away from the edge of the cliff and kick it as hard as I can.
It flies up above my head, faster and faster.
Then finally it strikes the middle of the branch the figs are on.
The branch begins to shake, then it snaps and the figs fall into the soft bushes below them.
I feel proud as a peacock, as if I have scored the winning goal.
Mama, I've found us something to eat.
Mama stares at me, speechless, then hugs me weakly.
We eat gleefully.
Pulp and seeds go everywhere.
Maybe I will be a famous footballer one day.
But for now, I have Mama to care for.
And I have hope.
That's a great start.
BBC Radio 2's 500 Words.
The Bedtime Stories Podcast.
That's it for another week of BBC Radio 2's Bedtime Stories Podcast.
We hope you feel as empowered as we do after all these brilliant tales.
Perhaps you too will be a famous trapeze artist, just like Dom.
Or like many of our writers in this episode, you could empower people with just 500 words.
If you're feeling inspired, here's a top tip from our friends at Oxford University Press.
It's all about you.
Every story is about someone, so why not make it you?
And the best person to write it, of course, has to be you.
This doesn't mean that you're writing your autobiography, but taking inspiration from things that have happened to you to create fictional stories.
Think back to your earliest memory.
What is this about?
Note down the details you remember.
What can you see?
What do you hear?
Can you recall any other sensations such as smells or taste?
Think about the different emotions that this memory brings.
Being able to draw together these details in your writing can help you to create believable scenes, changing these real-life experiences into story inspirations.
Don't forget to like and subscribe.
See you next week.
Goodbye!
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