Our Own Little Silver Wombat By:adjyo




Most stories are about strange or unusual things but this story is not. This story is about something ordinary. As ordinary as blue buckets, as ordinary as yellow gumboots, as ordinary as an old pair of shorts. This story is about a little silver wombat. You can buy little silver wombats at many different shops and they don’t cost very much money. Right now, there are hundreds of little silver wombats on hundreds of shelves all over the country.

BUT! Listen carefully. Because even ordinary things can be worth hearing about. And sometimes – not very often, mind you – they can do very exciting things.

Like our wombat. She was just an ordinary little silver wombat – and very small, small enough that a baby could carry her in a little baby pocket. In fact, that is where she lived – in a pocket. She never did anything special or exciting, she just spent all her time in that pocket being a little silver wombat. But then something strange DID happen.

She woke up. Just like that. One day she opened her little silver wombat eyes and stretched her little wombat arms and looked around. She was still in the pocket so she couldn’t see much.

“Oh!” She thought. “I'm awake! This is very strange. But… If I am awake, I must have a name! How will I find my name?”

It was a very troubling question for a little wombat in her very first minute of being awake. She knew that woken up things needed names, but she couldn’t think of any good ones.

“What shall I do? Where am I going to get a name?” She wondered out loud.

Suddenly there was a deep voice.

“You won’t find a name in there!” It boomed.

The little wombat was so surprised she jumped and hit her head on the side of the pocket. Luckily for her, the pocket was nice and soft, so it didn’t hurt.

“Who’s there?” She asked.

“Come out and see!” Boomed the voice.

“But I'm just a little wombat, and I only just woke up!” Said the little wombat.

“That’s the best time to do it,” boomed the voice. “If you wait too long, you’ll just fall asleep again!”

The little wombat thought about this. It was all a little bit scary, this business of being awake, and she wasn’t really sure that she wanted to leave the pocket. And then there was the booming voice, which sounded like it belonged to something much, much bigger than her. Maybe it would be easier to just stay in the pocket and go back to sleep….

“No,” she thought. “I won’t go back to sleep. I was just an ordinary little silver wombat and now I am awake. I don’t know why this has happened, but it has. So I will go and find a name.”

With that very brave thought, the little wombat gritted her teeth and climbed slowly up the side of the pocket. When she reached the top, she looked out.

She blinked her eyes, because it had been very dark inside the pocket and it was very bright outside. She saw that the pocket was sitting on a towel, and the towel was sitting on a beach . The little wombat took a deep breath and jumped out of the pocket and onto the towel.

It was very strange being outside the pocket. “Where am I?” she wondered out loud.

“You are in The World” Boomed the strange voice from before.

The little wombat looked around to see who was speaking to her, but she had no idea. “I-I'm sorry,” she said, “but I don’t know what you are.”

“I am a stone,” said the stone, “and I'm over here.”

When the little wombat saw the stone who had spoken, she laughed out loud.

“But you’re tiny!” She said. “You’re even smaller than me!”

The stone didn’t say anything so the wombat quickly added, “but I'm sure you are a very important stone…” and trailed off. “What’s your name?” She added, after a minute.

“Stones do not have names,” said the stone. “Our job is not the same as yours. Stones are indeed very important, and we know many things.”

The little wombat was intrigued by this. She thought that all woken up things needed names, and the stone was clearly awake, otherwise how could it talk to her?  

“I'm sorry, … Mr Stone,” she said, “But I don’t understand. What is your job?”

“We have many jobs,” said the stone. “We know The World. We help the little ones find their way in it.”

“Well, then, you can help me!” Said the little wombat excitedly. “I need to find a name, you see. Can you give me a name?”

“I cannot give you a name,” said the stone, “but I can show you how to find one. Close your eyes and walk for one minute. When you open your eyes, you will know your name.”

The little wombat was afraid. She had never been outside the pocket before and this place, The World, was very big. She wasn’t sure she wanted to walk away from the pocket, and she really wasn’t sure she wanted to do it with her eyes closed.

“But… what if my pocket goes away?” asked the little wombat, nervously.

“She won’t go away,” replied the stone. “That’s a very big book that she’s reading."

The little wombat was confused by this. Book? Reading? Who was reading a book? She looked longingly back at the warm, safe pocket she had just left.

But then she remembered. This waking up thing was something special, and it had happened to her. She needed a name now that she was awake and she needed to walk with her eyes closed to get a name. So she made her decision.

The walk was very scary. Her eyes screwed up tight, she put one wombat foot in front of the other. She felt the towel under her feet become sand, loose and warm, then cold and firm. She really wanted to open her eyes – she was afraid that she might run into something, or fall into a hole. But she kept them shut tight because more than anything, she wanted a name.

“56, 57, 58, 59, a minute!” She cried as she opened her eyes.

In front of the little wombat was the ocean . So much bigger than the pocket that had, until very recently, been her whole world – bigger than anything she could imagine. It was beautiful.

And then she knew.

“My name is Ocean” she whispered, and she smiled.

She turned her face up to the sky and felt the sunlight. She breathed in deep and felt the air. In that moment, she was a very happy little wombat (named Ocean). She had woken up.

She danced all the way back to the towel on which the pocket sat.  

“Mr Stone!” She cried, in a voice all out of breath, “My name is OCEAN!”

“That is a beautiful name,” said the stone, and if stones could smile, he would have smiled.

“So… you said something about the little ones having jobs,” said Ocean. “What is my job, Mr Stone?”

The stone laughed. “It’s not that kind of job,” it said. “I can’t tell you everything at once.”

“Oh,” said Ocean, quite disappointed. “Then, what do I do now?”

“Now you can go back into your pocket, and go to sleep”

Ocean was very sad. Her lip started to wobble and a tear slid down her face. “B..but I don’t want to go to sleep! I woke up!” She sobbed.

“Oh, no, not that kind of sleep,” said the stone in a kindly voice. “You are right, you have woken up. And now that you have a name, you will never really go to sleep again. At least, not for a very, very long time. But you need to rest sometimes, so you must go back into your pocket and have a different kind of sleep. When the time is right, you will wake up again.”

Ocean was much relieved to hear this. She sniffed back the last of her tears and smiled at the stone. “And when I wake up, will you be here?”

“Maybe not me,” replied the stone. “But all of the Stones have the same knowledge. That is why we don’t have names. It would be much too difficult for a little wombat named Ocean to remember so many names. When you wake up next time, all you have to do is find a stone.”

Ocean wasn’t really sure about this. But then, she wasn’t really sure about anything. The World can be very confusing, especially to little ones who have just woken up. She decided that it didn’t really matter, and there was plenty of time for understanding later. So she said goodbye to the stone, and climbed back into her pocket, and went to sleep.

The End (for now)


WarriorMom WarriorMom
51-55, F
3 Responses Feb 11, 2009

YW. (That was my fault. I had to make a spelling correction, oops :)

I posted a comment but it seems to have disappeared. It said:<br />
<br />
I'm honoured.<br />
Thank you. :-)

This precious children's story was written by our own fellow EP Member adjyo........Please let her know how much you appreciate her sharing this with us and respect her work by giving her a REC!!!<br />
Share this with your friends and family as a thoughtful gift.......they'll thank you for it.