Sam and the Hungry Monsters - ebook

The Night Sam Fed the Monsters

Sam lived in a small wooden house at the edge of Elderberry Woods, a forest so thick and dark that most townsfolk wouldn’t dare go near it after sunset. The grown-ups in the village whispered stories about strange shadows that danced through the trees at night and creepy eyes that watched from behind mossy trunks. Children were warned not

to wander too far. “Monsters live there,” they said, lowering their voices and raising their eyebrows. “Real ones.” But Sam didn’t believe in the scary kind of monsters. Not really. He was eight years old, curious, kind, and braver than he probably should’ve been. He’d never seen a monster, not in real life, only in picture books and Halloween masks. And even those looked kind

of silly to him. So while others avoided the woods like a haunted house, Sam would often tiptoe to the fence just to peek inside. He’d grown up hearing that his grandpa used to walk in those woods every evening and would come back humming strange tunes and smiling in a way that made his eyes twinkle. But when Sam asked about it, his parents

would shake their heads and say, “Those were different times.” One unusually cold autumn evening, while helping his mother in the kitchen, Sam noticed something strange. The fridge was a little less full than usual, and when he opened the pantry, half the shelves were bare. “We need to be careful with food this week,” his mom said, stirring a pot of soup. “Some of

our supplies have been disappearing. A few other families said the same. We’re not sure why.” Sam looked puzzled. “Disappearing?” She nodded. “Not stolen, exactly. Just… gone. Bread, fruit, cheese, even biscuits from the locked cabinet.” That night, as Sam lay in bed with his covers pulled up to his chin, he heard something unusual—a soft rustle, like leaves being swept by invisible feet. He

sat up and crept to the window. The moon hung like a silver coin in the sky, and beneath its pale light, something moved near the fence line. At first, he thought it was just animals—maybe raccoons or foxes. But as he watched more closely, he saw shapes. Tall, hunched, lumbering shapes. Not human. Not exactly. One was dragging something behind it. Another had long

ears. Another walked on four legs but stood up to sniff the wind like a person. Sam's heart thumped in his chest. Monsters? He should’ve felt afraid, but instead, he felt something else—curiosity. The next night, Sam stayed awake on purpose. He packed a small bag with pieces of bread, an apple, and a slice of pie wrapped in napkin. He waited until his parents

were asleep, then quietly snuck out the back door. He crept toward the woods, each step crunching softly against the fallen leaves. His breath puffed in the cool air as he reached the old fence. And there—just beyond the trees—he saw them. Four of them. One had fur like a bear and eyes like lanterns. Another was scaly and blue, with a snout and claws

that looked like they were made of clouds. The smallest one was round and green, with stubby legs and blinking purple eyes. And the last was shadowy and tall, with long, flowing arms that shimmered like fog. Sam froze. The monsters froze too. Then the smallest one made a soft sound—“Mrrrroooww?”—like a confused kitten. Sam slowly reached into his bag and held out the bread.

The green monster took one cautious step forward. Then another. It sniffed, tilted its head, and gently took the bread from Sam’s hand. It didn’t bite. It didn’t roar. It just… sighed. Soon, the others came closer. The furry one took the apple and let out a pleased grunt. The tall shadowy one carefully unwrapped the pie and handed the napkin back to Sam. Sam

blinked. “You’re hungry,” he whispered. The scaly monster nodded. “You’re not scary,” he added, more to himself than them. The monsters looked at each other, then at him, and then sat down on the mossy ground—together, like a family around a campfire. Sam sat too. No one spoke for a long while. But it didn’t feel awkward. It felt… right. Over the next few nights,

Sam returned, each time with more food. He didn’t tell anyone. This was his secret. Sometimes he’d bring leftovers, sometimes things he’d saved from his own plate. And each night, the monsters waited patiently in the same spot. They never growled or grabbed. They never demanded. They were just… grateful. One night, after sharing a piece of banana bread, the shadowy monster stood and beckoned

Sam to follow. He hesitated—but only for a second. They led him deeper into Elderberry Woods, past trees that seemed to part for them, across a bridge of twisted vines and glowing mushrooms. Finally, they reached a wide clearing lit by floating orbs of light that hummed softly, like lullabies. In the center stood a tall stone arch covered in symbols Sam couldn’t read. The

furry monster touched the arch, and it shimmered to life, revealing a swirling golden tunnel. Sam gasped. The green one motioned for him to come. They walked through together. What waited on the other side wasn’t what Sam expected. It wasn’t a scary monster world or a haunted cave. It was beautiful. Trees with silver bark and golden leaves stretched high into the sky. The

grass glowed underfoot. Rivers ran with water that shimmered like melted stars. Other creatures wandered peacefully—strange, wonderful creatures—but all smiled when they saw Sam. The tall monster placed a soft hand on his shoulder and whispered in a voice like wind, “Only those with kindness in their hearts can enter here. You fed us. You helped us. You saw past fear.” Sam looked around, wide-eyed.

“Is this… your home?” The monster nodded. “A place hidden from those who judge. We come to your world when we’re hungry, not for food alone—but for care, for connection. Very few offer it. But you did.” Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. “But why me?” “Because your heart was open. You listened. You didn’t run.” They walked with him along winding paths. In

one meadow, a monster with wings painted in colors danced in the sky. In another, a group of tree-like beings played music with the wind. Sam couldn’t stop smiling. He’d never felt more welcome anywhere. That night, before returning through the arch, the scaly one gave him a small stone. It sparkled with a soft light. “For your kindness,” it said, its voice a deep,

comforting rumble. “When you hold this, you’ll remember that kindness feeds more than just bellies—it feeds hearts, too.” When Sam returned home, it was still dark. His room was just as he’d left it, but everything felt different now. The next morning, he tucked the glowing stone into a jar beside his bed. He still visited the monsters. Not every night, but often. Sometimes he’d

bring food, sometimes just himself. They always greeted him like a hero. He started drawing their world in his sketchbook—secret maps, magical trees, smiling faces with big eyes and silly teeth. One day, at school, a new student joined Sam’s class. His clothes were worn. His eyes looked tired. At recess, no one spoke to him. But Sam walked over and said, “Hi. I’m Sam.

Want to sit with me?” The boy blinked in surprise. “Sure.” And as they sat on the bench, Sam reached into his bag and pulled out a cookie. Moral of the Story: True kindness means looking past what’s scary or different and choosing to help anyway. Sometimes, the ones who seem the strangest are simply the ones most in need of care. Sam taught us

that when we feed others—not just with food, but with compassion—we open doors to magical places and unexpected friendships. A kind heart sees beyond fear.The End

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Let's Talk About a Story!

1.Why do you think the grown-ups in the village were so afraid of the monsters in the woods?
2.Sam felt curious instead of scared when he saw the monsters. Have you ever been curious about something that others found scary?
3.The monsters weren't just hungry for food, but also for "care and connection." What does that mean?
4.Sam learned that kindness feeds hearts, not just bellies. What is one kind thing you can do for someone tomorrow?