Cloud Cuckoo Land (for kids) By Antonius Diogenes

Cloud Cuckoo Land

By Aethon

By Antonius Diogenes

By Anthony Doerr

By @tbonestryker

FOLIO A

TO MY DEAREST NIECE WITH HOPE THAT THIS BRINGS YOU HEALTH AND LIGHT.

It was on a foggy night, when the air itself seemed to hold secrets of the past, that I wandered into the old city of Tyre. In that city, I discovered a tomb with a mysterious inscription. It said, "Here lies Aethon: Lived 80 Years a Man, 1 Year a Donkey, 1 Year a Sea Bass, 1 Year a Crow."

Curiosity forced me lift the lid of the old sarcophagus. Inside was a small box that said, "Stranger, whoever you are, open this to learn what will amaze you."

I picked up the chest and couldn't believe how beautifully it was made. It felt so important as I held it in my hands. When I opened it, old air whooshed out. Inside, there were twenty-four wooden tablets. Each tablet told a part of a big adventure about a shepherd named Aethon.

How many years did those wooden tablets stay in that box, waiting for someone to read them? I know the story sounds like a fairy tale, dear niece, but I promise I wrote down every word just as it was. Maybe a long time ago, people could turn into animals, and there was a city in the sky where birds lived. Or maybe, like all crazy people, the shepherd truly believed it.

But let us turn to his story now, and decide whether it's real for ourselves.

FOLIO B

I am Aethon, a simple shepherd from Arkadia, and the tale I have to tell is so ludicrous, so incredible, that you'll never believe a word of it—and yet, it's true. For I, the one they called birdbrain and nincompoop—yes, I, dull-witted muttonheaded lamebrained Aethon—once traveled all the way to the edge of the earth and beyond, to the glimmering gates of Cloud Cuckoo Land, where no one wants for anything and a book containing all knowledge offers life immortal.

But first I should start at the beginning.

One day, which was like any other day, I was out in the fields under a rain that never seemed to end, minding my flock of sheep. Every step was a challenge, and the mud clinged to my sandals. The rain was like tears from the clouds, joining my silent weeping for my favorite sheep that had wandered off, serving only to affirm the villagers' harsh words that I was a dumb old man. My back hurt as I looked everywhere for that stupid sheep. The other sheep whined endlessly, apparently blaming me for its disappearance. The day's sorrows kept growing, and I started drinking wine from a jug hoping to just forget my problems. Fed up with the boredom, tired of being wet, of the mud, and of the forever bleating of the sheep, tired of being called a dull-witted, muttonheaded lamebrain, I left my flock in the field and stumbled into town.

In the center of town was a stage where every seat was occupied. Before the audience danced a trio of birds — a crow, an eagle, and an unusually large owl. Despite being as large as men, they proved to be quite gentle creatures. Among them, the older ones spoke of a city they would build in the clouds between earth and heaven. A place untouched by human fighting, accessible only to those gifted with wings, a place where everyone was wise and nobody suffered.

As I listened, my imagination painted the whole picture — grand castles adorned with golden towers that rose above fluffy clouds, the skies patrolled by graceful falcons, redshanks, quails, moorhens, and cuckoos. Rivers of delicious stew flowed from spigots, large tortoises walked around with trays of cupcakes on their backs, and wine ran in channels down both sides of the streets.

Seeing this incredible place, as if it were really right before my eyes, I stood and said, "Why stay here when I could be there?" Without another thought, I dropped my wine jug and started my journey to the mystical land of Thessaly, that everyone knows is full of magic. I hoped to find a kind witch there who could turn me into a bird, perhaps a brave eagle or a bright strong owl, so that I could venture to that glorious city in the sky.