Write Your Own Story Instructions

Read the story, then do a portrait page of how you see the character, and write your own story.

Story Prompt for The Little Painter:

What would you paint if you were the Little Painter?

The Little Painter


there was a little girl who loved to paint.  She lived in the woods with her grandmother. Every day, she would take him for long walks and teach her the secrets of the forest. 

She showed her how to dig up the roots of small plants and how to boil their leaves.  She would make magical mixtures to cure her colds, sticky medicines to put on cuts and spices to drink to keep her strong.  She showed her how to whistle the songs the birds sing while building their nests.

The little girl never spoke a word.  She would draw pictures of what she wanted or needed.

If she was thirsty, she drew a tall glass of cold milk or steaming cup of hot chocolate. If she was hungry, she drew a plate of crackers or a ripe juicy apple.

On their daily walks in the woods, with a pencil and pieces of paper, the girl would draw wildflowers and the singing birds.  How she wished she could have a box of paints and a brush to make her drawings come alive.

For her birthday her grandmother couldn’t buy her paints and a brush.  Instead, by crushing the petals of bright spring flowers she made colors for her. By weaving long blades of grass, she made fine thick brushes.

For many years, they lived happily together. They wandered in the woods, baked fresh breads, cooked spices and cleaned their cabin. Sometimes, while she told her stories or recited poems, the girl would comb her long white hair.

One day, too tired to go out her grandmother said,  “Dear little granddaughter, please go into the woods and draw me a picture of my favorite flowers.”

With her pencil and pieces of paper, the little girl went into the woods, alone.  When she returned, it was dark. Nothing was cooking on the stove for dinner.  The girl went to her grandmother resting in bed and gave her her drawings.

She thanked her and said, “tomorrow dear granddaughter, you must go by yourself into the woods and bring me a picture of my favorite singing birds. I do miss them so.”

For weeks, the grandmother sent the little girl out into the woods by herself. She would smile at herr drawings.  To her they were alive and beautiful.

The little girl knew her grandmother was very old and this made her very sad.

One night, with the full moon’s light shining in through the window, she heard her grandmother talking in her sleep.  “Dear forest, give me the strength to go into the woods to collect the wildflowers.  I must crush the colors from their petals for my granddaughter.”

The next morning when the girl woke up, there on her grandmother’s bed were all the drawings she’d done for her.  But they were not in plain pencil.  They were painted in beautiful colors of red and blue, pink and gold, yellow and green.

The little girl was very excited.  She rushed to her grandmother to show her the brightly painted flowers and birds.  On the table, beside the bed were bowls filled with all the colors from the bright spring flowers.

That night, in the moonlight, the little girl’s grandmother spoke in her sleep.  This time, she said, “Dear forest, I haven’t the strength to go into the woods to find blades of grass to weave a brush for my granddaughter to paint the bright colors of the wildflowers and the delicate feathers on the wings of the singing birds.  I do miss them so.”

When the little girl got up the next morning, on the table beside her grandmother’s bed was a lock of her long white hair. The strands of hair were woven into a brush.

Through the day, as she worked by her side, the little girl could see that her grandmother was growing weaker. She could hear her breath becoming softer and shorter.

That night, as the clouds covered the moon’s light, once again, in her sleep, the little girl’s grandmother spoke, “Dear forest, I wish that I could walk forever hand in hand with my granddaughter in the woods.  I will miss her so.”

And when the girl awoke, silently, she went to her grandmother’s bedside. Quickly, she drew.

She dipped the woven lock of her hair into the bowls of colors and began to paint.  With each stroke of the brush, the soft pink of her cheeks, the bright blue of her twinkling eyes, and the stark white of her flowing hair began to shine on the paper.

When she woke up, the little girl showed his grandmother the wonderful painting.

With the bit of strength left in her, she smiled at her and spoke these last few words, “I love you, granddaughter.  Now, I will never leave you, because you are my Little Painter.”

From that day on, whenever the little girl went into the forest alone her grandmother would be there to greet her.  Enjoying the brightness of Spring, the changing leaves of the Fall and the chill of the Winter, The Little Painter and her Grandmother would walk together hand in hand.

CLICK the link below to download a PDF of The Little Painter

the little painter