Ethan was a young man living in a small town. He was a bright soul with dreams, but he was also trapped by the chains of fear and doubt.

Ethan worked at a small bookshop, yet deep within, he had a strong desire to become a painter. Every evening, as the setting sun painted the sky in orange and pink, Ethan would sit by his window, a blank canvas (油画布) before him. Yet, no stroke (笔画) graced the canvas. The fear of failure and the whispers of doubt prevented him from painting. “What if I’m not good enough?” he often thought.

One cold autumn evening, an unexpected visitor came knocking at Ethan’s door-Mrs. Wilkins, an elderly well-known woman of wisdom. “Ethan,” she began gently, “I’ve noticed the light in your room night after night, and yet, I’ve seen no color grace the world from your hands. Why is that?”

Ethan sighed, the weight of his unspoken dreams heavy on his shoulders. He whispered, “I’m afraid that I’ll never be good enough and that my work will never touch the hearts of others.”

Mrs. Wilkins smiled, a kind, understanding smile. “Ethan,” she said, drawing closer, “let me tell you a story of a young bird, much like yourself, afraid to leave its nest. The little bird was always scared at the thought of flight. Day after day, it watched other birds fly into the sky, while it remained where it was, full of fear. The bird feared the unknown, feared failure, and most of all, feared that its wings were not strong enough to carry it. But then, one day, a storm approached, and the little bird had no choice but to jump into the storm. It was not an easy journey; the winds were very strong, and the rain blinded its eyes. Yet, with each flap (拍打) of its wings, the bird realized that it was able to fly.”

Ethan felt a sense of warmth and hope wash over him as Mrs. Wilkins spoke.

That night, for the first time in many years, Ethan picked up his brush.

Cynthia was a primary school student. She was curious about everything. She made efforts to get a good grade in every subject. She was a kind-hearted and outgoing girl. At school, she was always ready to help her classmates. At home, she helped her mum do some housework. She was never a concern to her mum, Mrs. Anderson.

However, Mrs. Anderson noticed a change in Cynthia these days. There were more quiet moments. Mrs. Anderson saw Cynthia looking out of the window, lost in thought. She also learned from her teacher that Cynthia wasn’t as focused on school as before. A sense of worry rose in Mrs. Anderson’s heart and she wondered about what was behind Cynthia’s unusual behavior.

Before going to bed, she started talking with Cynthia, asking about her day. However, Cynthia just said that nothing in particular happened. Mrs. Anderson’s concern grew. She decided to keep a closer eye, hoping to uncover the challenges her daughter might be facing.

One day, while cleaning up Cynthia’s bedroom, Mrs. Anderson discovered something unexpected — on her desk lay some books on how to treat injured birds. It was quite surprising. Cynthia had never told her about this. It also amazed Mrs. Anderson. She had a deep love for nature and birds and she could always find inspiration in their freedom and the beauty of their songs. She couldn’t help but wonder what had inspired her daughter’s newfound interest in birds.

The next morning, Mrs. Anderson saw Cynthia walking quietly into the backyard with a first aid kit in hand.

Mrs. Anderson couldn’t help but walk out.

My daughter and I pushed the overloaded cart in the store. She reached up and took another toy, and without asking, threw it in the cart. “Is that for you?” I asked.

“No, it is for my friend,” she answered. I was proud of her. Being an only child and an only grandchild, she could have been spoiled (宠坏), but instead she was caring and very giving, almost more than necessary.

On the drive home, my daughter was unusually quiet. Finally, she said, “Mommy, if Santa brings all the gifts, why are we buying them?” I quickly tried to think of an answer. Before I could say anything, she shouted, “I know why. We’re Santa’s helpers!” Yes, she took the words right out of my mouth. Yes, that’s exactly what we are.

After a few days, she came home from school quite upset, explaining, “Mommy, there’s a girl in my class who’s very mean (吝啬) to me and my friends. She is Lucy. We talk to her anyway, and when we asked her what she was getting for Christmas, she started crying. She said she wasn’t getting anything because her mother is always sick and her father doesn’t have the money to pay for anything, not even food.”

I calmed her down, knowing what she was thinking about.

One evening before Christmas vacation, my daughter began to wrap (包装) the gifts for her friends. I gave her a roll of wrapping paper, but she came back and asked for more. I thought it was strange, but I was busy then, only telling her to get whatever she needed.

On the last day of school, I had to leave for work extra early, so I asked my friend to pick up my daughter since she had quite a few gifts to take for the class Christmas party. I never actually saw what my daughter took to school.

On Christmas Eve, I went to wrap gifts, but all of them were missing. I looked high and low and couldn’t find them.

Finally, I woke my daughter.

Early Christmas morning, a mother and a daughter came to our house.

When I was young, I lived in a quiet small town with my mom. My mom was beautiful and kind but one day she got a contagious(传染的) disease, which was said to be very serious. I was worried about her , seeing her becoming thinner and paler day by day. Mother’s Day was coming. I decided to buy mom some flowers to make her happy. There was only one flower shop in the town-Mr. Rocco’s.

It was time for Mr. Rocco to shut up shop when I hurried into the florist’s (花店). “Now, what is it that you want?” Mr. Rocco turned to me. “I want the most beautiful flower you have.” I replied, still breathing hard. “And just how much do you have to pay for this most beautiful flower?” I held out a wet hand showing a quarter and a dime. He nodded, thought for a while and then showed me a plant on the counter. “I can give you this one for 35 cents.” he said. “Aw, no,” I protested, looking desperately at the poor plant “it looks like a weed (野草)!” About 18 inches high, the plant was in a small pot covered with faded red paper. “Now trust me, boy — I promise that tomorrow morning when you get up, you will find your most beautiful flower.” said Mr. Rocco. I knew him to be a good honest man, so I agreed to take it. I believed what Mr. Rocco said about the flower and hoped tomorrow morning there would be a nice surprise for my mom.

It was almost midnight when I arrived home. Mom was seriously sick and using the front bedroom. I looked in to see if she was asleep, and then quietly tiptoed in and set the plant on the table beside her bed. I wanted her to be surprised when she woke on Mother’s Day.

The next morning, I dressed and hurried downstairs.

My dear Mom died the next night.

It was the last practice before the big gymnastics competition in Burlingville. The gymnastics team of Springtown High School had been training every day in the school vacation. They tried harder and wanted to do better. They had competed with the team from Maidstone High School several times. The competitions allowed the two teams to admire each other for their excellent performance and players’ qualities. They respected the game; they respected each other’s team more.

Today, the players of Springtown went home earlier. They would pack some food and water to have along the way to Burlingville. Before they went home, they went to their teacher to see their new uniform. Springton High School was in the countryside. The team made cookies and sold them at the market to get money to buy the uniform. They loved it very much, even though they were impressed with the uniforms of the team from Maidstone. Maidstone High School was a rich private school. It usually prepared two sets of uniforms for the competition — one for the morning and the other for the afternoon.

Early the next morning, the team of Springtown High School and their teacher got on a minibus to start their long trip. They would reach the railway station in Travers at about two o’clock and then take a train to Burlingville. They must be there by six o’clock and register for the competition.

The bus driver drove the bus through the country roads. Then suddenly, he parked the bus at the side of the road. There was something wrong with the engine. Unluckily, the driver couldn’t fix it in a short time. He called the company and asked them to send another bus for the gymnastics team. It was 90 minutes before another minibus came. Everyone jumped onto the bus. “Please hurry,” said the teacher.

When they finally arrived at Travers railway station, the bus driver helped the team carry the bags into the station. As soon as they got on the train, it started to move. Looking out of the window, the teacher saw the bus driver running towards the train door.

“Oh, no!” the teacher shouted. “The driver has our uniform bag!”

Caught in complete hopelessness, the team from Springtown saw the players of Maidstone walking towards them.

Walter has left office. His wife is dead, and he has no children. He lives a quiet life. But he has a job for a few days during Christmas every year.

He is a Santa in a big department store. Walter goes to the toy department and changes into his red Santa clothes, a red hat and big black boots (靴子). All day he sits in the toy department. Children come with their parents. They tell Santa what they want for Christmas. Most children want toys like video games, bikes, robots and fairy dolls.

Walter remembers one Christmas. It was 9:00 p.m. and the store was closing when there came a small boy and his mother. They were walking quickly towards him. “I know it is late, but please let my son talk to you,” said the woman. The woman and the boy looked tired. Their clothes were old and cheap.

Walter was tired too, but he is a kind man. “Of course,” he said in his Santa voice. “Come here and tell me what you want for Christmas.” The little boy spoke very quietly. Walter couldn’t hear him. “Santa is getting old. He doesn’t hear so well. Come closer and tell me again,” he said happily. The little boy came very close and said, “Santa, please bring me a grandfather for Christmas.”

Walter was surprised. He looked at the little boy’s mother. “Yes,” she said. “Timmy wants a grandfather for Christmas.”

“Why do you want a grandfather for Christmas, Timmy?” asked Walter.

“My Dad is dead. I don’t want a new dad. But it’s only Mom and me. It’s quiet. So I would like a grandfather.”

Walter was worried. Of course children don’t get everything they ask for. But this little boy was so serious, and his mother looked so sad.

Then Walter had an idea.

The next morning Timmy and his mother were eating breakfast when the doorbell rang.