Bulb Baba's Light Story children ebook

Bulb Baba and the Village of Shadows

Long ago, nestled between rolling hills and whispering trees, there was a small village called Dullridge. But no one called it by that name anymore. People called it the Village of Shadows. In Dullridge, the sun hardly ever shone. Even on the brightest summer days, a strange grayness hung over the streets. The lamps didn’t work. The candles

flickered out too quickly. Children weren’t allowed to play outside after sunset. People walked with heads down, barely speaking to one another. No one laughed. No one smiled. The village had forgotten how to feel warm. And the strangest part? No one knew why. Well—almost no one. High above the village, in a tiny wooden hut built into the side of the hill, lived a

man everyone called Bulb Baba. He was a peculiar man. His beard looked like tangled wires. His coat was stitched with buttons that lit up when he sneezed. And on his hat—yes, his hat—was a glowing little lightbulb that never went out. The children whispered about him, though few had ever seen him. Some said he was a wizard. Others said he was a mechanic

who could talk to lightning. But most grown-ups simply rolled their eyes and muttered, “Nonsense.” But Bulb Baba knew the truth about Dullridge. He had known it for many, many years. The village wasn’t cursed by darkness. It was swallowed by anger. You see, long ago, the villagers had been full of joy. They celebrated festivals with lanterns and fairy lights. They helped one another.

Children built snowmen in winter and flew kites in spring. But then came the fighting. Small arguments became loud shouting. People started keeping to themselves. “Mine” became more important than “ours.” And slowly, the light faded. Not just from the sky. From their hearts. That’s when Bulb Baba came. He had once been a traveler — visiting towns all across the world. But he had

never seen a place that had forgotten its light quite like Dullridge. And so, he stayed. For years, he worked in silence. Tinkering. Inventing. Waiting. Watching. And finally, he built The Glimmer Cycle — a magical, odd-looking bicycle with tiny wheels and blinking gears. On its back, it carried a large glowing jar filled with the warmest, purest light anyone had ever seen. But it

wasn’t just regular light. It was heart-light — light powered by kindness, laughter, and care. Now all he needed was someone to help him pedal it into the village. Someone small. Someone brave. That someone turned out to be a little girl named Eliza. Eliza lived in a creaky house on the edge of the village with her grandpa. She was curious, kind, and quiet.

While others frowned, she looked up. While others grumbled, she wondered. She had never seen a real rainbow and only read about stars in books, but she believed in them with all her heart. One chilly evening, while chasing her cat near the woods, Eliza saw a flicker of light on the hill. Curious, she climbed up and knocked on the strange wooden door. Bulb

Baba opened it with a smile that glowed brighter than his hat. “Well, well,” he said, peering down at her. “The forest must trust you. It let you find me.” “I wasn’t looking for you,” Eliza said honestly. “I was looking for my cat.” “Same thing,” he said, and winked. Inside his workshop, Eliza saw clocks that ticked backward, jars filled with lightning bugs, and

a teapot that poured starlight. But the most magical thing was the Glimmer Cycle, softly humming in the corner. “What’s that?” she asked. “The last chance,” Bulb Baba replied. “To bring the light back to Dullridge.” He explained everything — about the shadows, the anger, and how only someone pure of heart could power the Glimmer Cycle. Eliza didn’t fully understand, but she understood enough.

“Will you help?” he asked. Eliza looked out at the dark village below. She nodded. “I will.” That very night, just as the village clock struck midnight, Bulb Baba and Eliza rolled the Glimmer Cycle to the edge of the hill. The giant glowing jar on the back pulsed softly, like a sleeping heartbeat. “Are you ready?” he asked. Eliza got on the seat and

placed her feet on the pedals. “Yes.” “Then go.” She pushed down and the bike rolled forward, slowly at first, then faster. As she pedaled into the village, the glowing jar began to flicker. Then hum. Then shine. The wheels lit up. The streets began to glow beneath her. One by one, lamps turned on. Windows sparkled. The dark clouds above cracked open, revealing the

silver of the moon. People peeked out of their homes. “What’s that light?” “Is it a trick?” “Who is that girl?” Eliza kept pedaling. As she passed by, flowers bloomed in empty pots. Old paintings sparkled with color again. A boy and girl who hadn’t spoken in a year suddenly held hands and smiled. A baker dropped her spoon and gasped as her kitchen lit

up with golden warmth. It was working. Bulb Baba watched from the hill, eyes misty, heart full. But then — CRACK! One of the bike’s gears snapped. The Glimmer Cycle slowed. The jar began to dim. “No! No, no, no!” Eliza cried, pushing harder. But it was too much. She was only a child. She stopped, panting, in the village square. Shadows began creeping back

in. And then — something amazing happened. A little boy walked out of his house and placed his hand on the bike. “I’ll help,” he said. Then a woman stepped forward. “Me too.” A man joined in. Then two more. Then ten. Then twenty. Everyone — children, adults, even a grumpy old man who hadn’t smiled in years — grabbed the glowing bike and began

to push together. The light burst forth like sunrise. The shadows screamed and vanished. The heart-light jar overflowed with warmth, spilling into every corner of Dullridge. And the village — the real village — came back. People laughed. They hugged. They shared. And that night, for the first time in years, the stars were visible in the sky. Bulb Baba smiled and quietly packed up

his things. His work was done. He left a note on Eliza’s windowsill. It read: "Light never disappears. It only hides when we forget to share it. You remembered." Years later, Eliza became a teacher. She told the story of Bulb Baba and the Glimmer Cycle to every child who came through her classroom. And in the center of town, the villagers built a statue

— a girl on a glowing bike, surrounded by lanterns that never went out.

Moral: The light inside us grows stronger when we share it. Kindness is the spark that can brighten even the darkest place.

 Let's Talk About a Story!

Here is a special section for parents to help start a conversation after reading the story with their child.

1. When Eliza met Bulb Baba, she wasn't looking for an adventure, but she still chose to help. Why do you think she was brave enough to try when all the grown-ups had given up?

2. The Glimmer Cycle was powered by "heart-light" — kindness and laughter. What are some things that make your own "heart-light" shine brightly?

3. Eliza couldn't bring back the light all by herself; she needed the whole village to help. Why do you think it was important that everyone worked together in the end?

4. The story says the village lost its light because people became angry and stopped sharing. What are some small, "light-bringing" things we can do for our family or friends when someone is having a gloomy day?