There was once a tranquil village amid rolling hills and golden meadows. In it lived an old woman and an old man in a cosy little cottage with flower boxes on the windowsills and smoke coming out of the chimney. They lived simply, taking care of each other and their little garden.
On a clear morning, the wind blew with a trace of frost, and the old woman drew her shawl tighter about her shoulders. She remarked with a smile, “It’s a baking day.” “How about a sweet treat to warm up the house?”
The old man nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Something with cinnamon.” A loaf of gingerbread, maybe?
The old woman, on the other hand, had a spark in her eyes. “Even better, I’ll make a gingerbread man.” A unique one.
She added a touch of nutmeg and a drop of molasses to the flour, sugar, ginger, and cinnamon she already had. She sculpted the dough into a chubby little man with love. She put two raisins in for eyes, a cherry for his nose, and three bright candy buttons on his breast. She then carefully put him in the oven.
The warm, spicy smell filled the room. But when she reached for the oven, it sprung open, and the Gingerbread Man jumped out!
His sweet eyes gleamed with mischief as he said, “Thanks for the warm-up! Now I’m going on an adventure!”
He ran out the front door, sprinted across the kitchen, and struck the floor sprinting.
“Stop!” the old woman yelled. “Come back!” I made you to share with my husband!
The old man let go of his teacup. “He’s running away on his gumdrop feet!”
But the Gingerbread Man merely chuckled as he ran away.
“Run, run, as fast as you can!
You can’t capture me—I’m the Gingerbread Man!”
The old woman and man chased after him, but he was fast and light on his feet. He sped through the village, past hay carts and poultry that were scared.
He saw a cow chewing cud under a tree near the village well.
The cow remarked, “Mmm, you smell good,” and licked her lips. “Stop and let me take one bite!”
But the Gingerbread Man only gave a wink.
“I’ve run away from an old woman and an old man, and I can run away from you, big cow, if I can!”
Then he sped off, and the cow mooed loudly and ran after him.
The Gingerbread Man hurried past a horse that was too indolent to swat flies with its tail.
“What’s the hurry?” The horse made a noise. “A gingerbread snack sounds just right!”
“I’ve run from a man, a woman, and a cow, and I’ll outrun you too—just watch me now!”
The horse got scared by how brave the small cookie was and joined the hunt.
A hen scratched in the dirt further down the path.
“Peck peck!” A delicious treat would be just what I need! She clucked.
“You can’t catch me, you clucking hen. I’m faster than all of you over and over again!”
The fowl flapped its wings and joined the mass behind him.
The Gingerbread Man ran away from a parade that included an old couple, a cow, a horse, and a hen.
People in the village stopped and pointed. Kids laughed and ran next to them for a little distance. They yelled, “Go, Gingerbread Man!”
His frosting sparkled in the sun, making him feel like he could do anything.
But soon he reached the edge of a wide, deep river. He came to a stop, the water flowing and frigid.
“Oh no,” he said. “I can’t swim; I’ll get wet!”
A sly fox came out from behind a boulder and swished his tail like a silk ribbon.
“Do you need help crossing?” the fox said in a smooth, loving voice.
The Gingerbread Man squinted. “Are you going to eat me?”
The fox lifted his eyebrows. “Eat you? No way. These days, I’m a vegetarian.
The Gingerbread Man thought about it, but the mob behind him was getting louder.
“Okay,” he said. “But no tricks.”
The fox said, “Climb onto my tail.”
The fox stepped into the river, and the Gingerbread Man jumped on.
The fox remarked, “You better get on my back to stay dry,” as the water surged.
The Gingerbread Man went up higher.
The water soon splashed much higher. “On my head,” the fox said. “There’s no reason to get wet.”
The Gingerbread Man ascended onto the fox’s head with a lot of fear.
The fox smiled just as they got to the middle of the river. “Oops, it looks like my nose is the only place that isn’t wet.”
The Gingerbread Man had to do it. He crept up to the fox’s nose.
And just as they got to the riverbank, snap!
The fox threw the Gingerbread Man into the air and opened his mouth wide.
But this Gingerbread Man was smart. Instead of yelling, he turned in the air and threw one of his candy buttons into the fox’s eye.
“Gah!” the fox yelled, blinking.
The Gingerbread Man struck the ground running, with one gumdrop less but still complete.
The fox massaged his eye and growled while he ran into the woods. The people who were after him had reached the riverbank and were standing there, panting and gazing.
But no one could find the Gingerbread Man.
A Different Way
The Gingerbread Man ran through the trees, his heart racing. He finally slowed down when he found a peaceful valley with lush moss and sunlight.
He remarked out loud, “I need to stop running.” “Where am I really going?”
He sat on a rock and looked at his reflection in a puddle.
“Who am I if I’m not just running away?”
At that moment, a squirrel jumped down from a limb.
“Did you lose your way?” she asked sweetly.
“Okay,” he said. “I was high today and ran away.” I’m here now.
The squirrel turned her head to the side. “And why did you run?”
The Gingerbread Man shrugged his shoulders. “I was afraid they would eat me.” I assumed that being free meant running as fast as I could.
The squirrel shook its head. “Freedom doesn’t just mean running away from other people; it also means choosing your own path.”
The Gingerbread Man slept under a leafy branch that night. The trees in the forest whispered to him. He didn’t feel like he had to run this time.
A Gingerbread Man with a Purpose
The Gingerbread Man helped animals in the woods in the days that followed. He helped a chipmunk relocate her acorns, told a deer about hunters, and even gave a starving raccoon the rest of his frosting.
The animals quickly learnt that he wasn’t a snack, but a companion. He turned out to be the forest’s most unlikely hero.
He heard someone crying by a tree stump one morning. A little girl had gone off on her own and gotten lost.
She cried, “I miss my mama.”
The Gingerbread Man came up slowly. “I’ll help you get home,” he said.
She looked at him with wide eyes. “You can talk?”
He smiled. “I can also show the way.”
They walked back through the woods with a hand in a crumb. The Gingerbread Man, who used to be so pompous and cocky, went slowly, listening for danger, protecting her from thorns, and whispering words of encouragement.
When they came out of the trees, the girl’s family ran to her, crying and hugging her.
But as they turned to thank the Gingerbread Man, he was gone.
The Gingerbread Man was standing under an old oak tree in the woods.
He gazed up into the sky and said softly, “Maybe I wasn’t made just to be chased or eaten.” I guess I was designed to care.
The Story Goes On
The legends of the Gingerbread Man—the one who got away, the one who tricked a fox, and the one who helped the girl find her way—spread across the hamlet and the woods throughout the years.
The kids listened with wide eyes, wondering whether he was still out there, with a gumdrop heart pounding fast and running over the earth not because he was scared, but because he had tasks to do.
The oven in the elderly couple’s kitchen still kept the cottage warm. The old woman would sometimes look at it and grin. She never made another gingerbread man, but she always had a sweet button on the shelf in case he returned home.
And if you listen carefully, you might still hear a chuckle in the breeze someplace in the woods:
“Run, run, as fast as you can, but not away. Just come to me.”
The end.
