The Three Billy Goats
By Isa Luciano
There once was a land covered in the thickest tufts of long green grass, dappled with sweet yellow dandelion blossoms, and vegetation laying thick like a blanket over the meadow floor. In that meadow lived three billy goats.
The littlest billy goat was named Penelope, and her twin brothers were named Bruce and Henry. Bruce and Henry were both big, strong goats with long, pointed horns. Penelope was much smaller than her brothers, and her horns curled ornately behind her head. Even though she was smaller, her brothers knew she could do anything.
“We know you’re just as strong as us, P,” Bruce would always say after they would play in the meadow.
“Yeah,” Henry added, his big chest heaving. “You always move around so quickly and know just how to react!”
Penelope smiled. She loved her brothers, and she knew they loved her. The three billy goats took care of each other, no matter what.
One morning, the billy goats woke up in the meadow to find that their lunch meadow was beginning to die, the beautiful, deep, green grass drying up and fraying into thin, tawny strands. Concerned, the goats traveled a little further to find a green patch. After they ate their fill, they settled down to rest. Bruce and Henry curled around Penelope like a little nest.
When they woke up from their nap, they found that the grass here, too, was drying up. The billy goats decided that they would have to cross the dangerous cavern that split the meadow in two, as the other side of the meadow had a calm, bubbling stream that kept the grass green year-round. The three goats began the day's journey to the big rift in the earth.
When the three siblings reached the cavern, they found a rickety old wooden bridge. Feeling nervous, the three billy goats sniffed around. Penelope, small but brave, volunteered to cross first and make sure that the bridge could support her weight. Placing one delicate hoof in front of the other, she began to make her way across the great rift that separated the valley. “And step, and step, and step,” she thought to herself. “This isn’t so scary.”
Suddenly, a nasty gremlin crawled up from under the bridge.
“Who dares go there!” shouted the gremlin.
“Just me,” Penelope said, trying to be calm. She heard her brothers’ worried voices from behind her, wanting to help her on the bridge, but too heavy to join her.
“Get off my bridge, now! You puny billy goat, you don’t stand a chance against me,” the gremlin yelled, rubbing his clawed paws together and baring his sharp teeth.
“Don’t listen to him, P!” shouted Bruce. “Yeah! You can get past!” Henry chimed in.
Penelope took a deep breath. She steadied her thin legs against the planks of the bridge.
“Move out of my way, you old gremlin,” she said. You think just because I am smaller than my brothers that I am not strong, but I am, and my horns are just as sharp! Let me and my brothers across, or I’ll butt you off this bridge and into the ravine!”
The gremlin’s eyes narrowed, and he looked from Penelope down into the deep cavern. He looked behind Penelope, where Bruce and Henry stood, heads held high and eyes glued to the gremlin, challenging him to find out if Penelope was as strong as she claimed.
“Very well. You may pass,” the gremlin hissed as he moved out of the way, holding onto the roped sides of the bridge.
Penelope put one hoof in front of the other again. She lifted her hairy chin a little higher into the air. “And step, and step, and step,” she thought again. “And step, and” — WHAM! The gremlin lunged at Penelope as she tried to pass him. As he grabbed onto her horns, Penelope bucked her head backwards, launching the gremlin into the great abyss. Heart pounding, she bounced the last few paces to the end of the bridge.
Gently, her two brothers followed as quickly as they could, one at a time. Bruce went first, and nuzzled his big, bearded face into Penelope’s. Henry did the same on her other cheek after he made his way across.
“We’re so proud of you, P!” Henry exclaimed. “So proud,” echoed Bruce.
The three jumped around the green side of the meadow, filling up their bellies with delicious, sweet grass and cool, refreshing water from the stream. From time to time, the gremlin would peek his evil little head up from under the bridge, but once he met Penelope’s eyes, he would return to the depths of the chasm. The three billy goats lived happily in the meadow just as they had before.