The Story of the Flying Box

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Story Introduction

The Story of the Flying Box

Once upon a time there was a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved an entire street with his silver coins, and even a small alley with the surplus. But he didn't do that: he had other ways to use his money. Every penny he spent was sure to make some money back. He was such a merchant—and later he died.

His son now inherited all the money, and he lived a happy life. He went to masquerade balls every night, made kites out of banknotes, and played skipping stones on the beach with gold coins—not stones. It was easy to spend money that way, and that's exactly what happened. In the end, he had only four cents left, a pair of slippers, and an old nightgown. His friends no longer wanted to be around him because he could no longer go shopping with them. But one of them was kind enough to give him a box and say, "Pack your things in it!" It was a good intention, but he had nothing to pack, so he sat down in the box.

It was a funny chest. All one had to do was click its lock, and it would fly. And it did fly! "Shh!" the chest carried him out of the chimney, high up in the clouds, and flew farther and farther. The chest made a noise at the bottom, and he was terrified, afraid it would break into pieces, because then he would have to do somersaults! By God's grace, he actually flew to the country of the Turks. He hid the chest under some dead leaves in the woods and then walked into the city. This wasn't difficult, because the Turks were dressed just like him: slippers and pajamas. He met a nurse with a child by the hand.

"Well, you, Turkish nurse," he said, "what's the matter with the windows of that palace on the edge of the city that are so high up?"

"That's where the King's daughter lives," she said. "Someone once predicted that she would be very unhappy because of a lover, so no one could visit her unless the King and Queen were present."

"Thank you!" said the merchant's son. He returned to the wood, got into the chest, flew to the roof, and crept through the window into the Princess's room.

The princess was sleeping on a sofa. She was so beautiful that the merchant's son couldn't resist kissing her. She woke up and was startled. But he told her he was a Turkish god, flying down from the sky to visit her. This comforted her.

So they sat side by side. He told her stories about her eyes. He told her they were a pair of beautiful, dark lakes, where thoughts swam like mermaids. Then he told her stories about her forehead. He said it was like a snowy mountain, with the most magnificent halls and paintings on it. He also told stories about storks, who brought lovely babies. (Note: The stork is a long-legged migratory bird that often builds its nest on the roof. Like the swallow, it flies away in the winter, supposedly to Egypt. The Danes are very fond of this bird. According to their folklore, children are brought into the world from Egypt by storks.) Yes, these were all wonderful stories! Then he proposed to the princess, and she immediately accepted.

"But you must come here on Saturday," she said. "The King and Queen will be having tea with me then! They'll be so proud that I'm marrying a Turkish god. But be careful, you'll have to prepare a good story, because both my parents love stories. My mother prefers instructive and interesting stories, but my father prefers pleasant, amusing ones."

"Yes, I will bring no engagement present, but a story," he said. And so they parted ways. But the princess gave him a sword set with gold coins, which was of great use to him.

He flew away and bought a new pair of pajamas. Then he sat in the woods and tried to make up a story. He had to finish it by Saturday, and it was not an easy task.

He finally finished his story, and it was already Saturday.

The King, Queen, and all the Court came to the Princess's house for tea, and he was received with great courtesy.

"Will you tell me a story?" asked the Queen. "A story that is profound and instructive."

"Yes, tell us a story that will make us laugh!" said the King.

"Of course," he said. And he began to tell the story. Now please listen carefully:

Once upon a time there was a bundle of firewood. These firewood pieces were particularly proud of their noble origins. Their ancestor, a great fir tree, was once a large, old tree in the forest. Each of these firewood pieces was a fragment of that tree. The firewood now lay on a shelf between the tinderbox and the old tin can. They talked about the days of their youth.

"Yes," they said, "when we were on the green branch, we were truly on the green branch! Every morning and evening we had tea with pearls—these were dewdrops. As soon as the sun came out, we had sunshine all day long, and all the birds told us stories. We could see clearly that we were very rich, for the broad-leaved trees only had clothes in the summer, but we had green clothes in winter and summer. But when the woodcutters came, a great change took place: our family would be torn apart. Our head of the family would become the mainmast of a beautiful ship—a ship that could sail the world if it pleased. The other branches went elsewhere, and our job was to light fires for the common people. So we, who came from noble families, ended up in the kitchen."

"My fate is different," said the old tin can, standing by the firewood. "From the moment I was born into this world, I've been subject to much friction and suffering! I do practical work—strictly speaking, the first job in the house. My only joy is to lie down neatly and tidy on the shelf after dinner and chat with my friends about some sensible things. Except for the water can, who occasionally goes out into the yard, we stay at home all the time. Our only newsmonger is the one with the basket on his way to the market. He always reports some political and folk news in a serious manner. Yes, the day before yesterday, an old can got startled and fell and broke to pieces. I can tell you, he's a real talker!"

"You talk a little too much," said the tinderbox, as a piece of iron was struck on the flint, and sparks flew out. "Can't we make this evening a little more cheerful?"

Changelog