The Wolf And The Seven Little Kids Short Story & Audiobook

The Wolf And The Seven Little Kids

Once, in a land far far away, stood a small stone cottage. The cottage was owned by an old mother goat. And the mother goat lived happily in the cottage with her seven—very precious—little kids.

“Dear children, the cupboards are bare,” said the mother goat, “I must go out immediately to run some errands.”

“OK, Mummy,” chanted the seven little kids.

“While I am gone,” said mother goat, “you must be on your guard at all times. I have seen a beastly wolf lurking nearby. And if you let him in he is sure to gobble up the lot of you.”

All seven of the little kids looked extremely frightened.

“You will be fine my darlings,” said the mother goat, “the wolf may well try to trick you with a disguise, but don’t be fooled. You will know it is him straight away by his deep gruff voice and big hairy feet.”

The seven little kids seem comforted by this and said, “Thank you, Mummy. We will be on guard. And, please don’t worry. We won’t be fooled by the wolf’s disguises.”

Mother goat gave each of the seven little kids a lick goodbye and then left to run her errands.

Thirty minutes passed and there came a knock at the door.

“Dear children, I’m home,” said the voice, “I’ve returned with a special treat for each of you to enjoy.”

The smallest kid turned to the others and whispered, “That isn’t Mummy’s voice. It's much too deep. This must be the wolf.”

“We will NOT open the door,” they cried, “you have a deep gruff voice and Mummy has a soft tender voice. You are the beastly wolf. Be gone! Be gone!”

It fell silent.

The wolf had gone, but he had not gone far.

In fact, the wolf had dashed off to the local shop and bought himself a large lump of chalk.

I know what you're thinking.

How bizarre.

Well, yes. But, you see, the wolf swallowed the lump of chalk, which made his voice soft and tender—just like the voice of mother goat.

The wolf then returned to the cottage, knocked on the door and said again, “Dear children, I’m home. I’ve returned with a special treat for each of you to enjoy.”

This time the wolf sounded just like mother goat.

“Mummy’s back!” shouted the smallest kid.

“Wait!” cried another, “look under the door. Those feet are much too big and hairy to be Mummy’s feet. This MUST be the wolf!”

“We will NOT open the door,” they bleated, “you have horrible, hairy wolf’s feet and Mummy has lovely goat’s feet. You are the beastly wolf. Be gone! Be gone!”

It fell silent, again.

This time the wolf had gone to find a baker. But why on earth would the wolf want a baker? Well, you see, the wolf told the baker that he had sore feet and asked the baker to wrap his paws in dough.

The baker—who found this a very strange request, but didn’t want to cause any trouble—happily obliged.

The wolf, whose feet were now white and sticky from the dough, went to find a woodman. You can imagine the woodman’s surprise when a sticky-footed wolf turned up and asked politely, “Please may I have a bag of wood shavings?”

The miller— again, not wanting to cause a scene—agreed.

The wolf took the bag of wood shavings and poured them into a neat mound on the ground. He then dunked each of his sticky doughy feet into the wood shavings to make them look just like the feet of mother goat.

Without delay the wolf hurried back to the cottage.

He knocked on the door—as before—and said, “Dear children, I’m home. I’ve returned with a special treat for each of you to enjoy.”

The seven little kids looked at each other.

“It sounds like Mummy.”

“Yes it does!” said another, peering under the door, “and the feet are white like Mummy’s too.”

“It must be Mummy!” they all cried and opened the door.

Well, this—I can tell you—was a big mistake. 

The wolf pounced through the front door and chaos ensued. The seven terrified kids scattered in an attempt to get away from the wolf.

One hid under a chair.

The second climbed into a bed.

The third jumped into the oven.

Number four, five and six all jammed themselves like sardines into a cupboard and the seventh climbed inside a large grandfather clock.

Alas, the wolf sniffed each one of them out one by one and—in a single giant bite—gobbled each of them up. The only kid to survive was number seven, who hid ever so silently inside the grandfather clock and, as a result, was never found by the wolf.

The wolf—now with an exceedingly full belly—waddled into the nearby forest and fell fast asleep next to an old tree stump.

Mother goat arrived home shortly after.

What an awful sight met her eyes. A broken table and smashed chairs. Shattered dishes lying everywhere. Her carefully hand-sewn bedspread strewn across the floor. Ripped pillows spilling great clumps of feathers. And not a single little kid in sight.

As she wept, there came a cry from within the grandfather clock.

“Mummy, Mummy!” shouted the seventh little kid.

Mother goat ran over to the clock, opened the door and said, “Oh, my child. My precious child. What has happened? And where are all your brothers and sisters?”

“The beastly wolf, Mummy,” cried the kid, “he ate them up!”

Mother goat let out a blood curdling yell, then the room fell silent. Mother goat started to pace up and down the room. A few moments passed and then she spoke.

“We must find that wretched wolf,” she said, “look dear! Here are his footprints on the ground. We shall follow these until we find the beast.”

Mother goat and the little kid followed the wolf’s tracks until they reached the opening in the forest where the wolf lay sleeping.

Mother goat peered at the wolf’s stomach closely.

It was moving.

Something was wriggling and struggling inside the wolf’s big bulging belly.

“Could it be,” she thought, “that my children are still alive in there?”

“Quick, quick! My dear!” she said to the little kid, “run home and fetch me a pair of scissors and my sewing kit.”

The little kid dashed home and returned, quick as a flash.

The next part of the story really is quite gruesome, so I hope you are sitting comfortably.

Mother goat took the scissors, pierced the wolf’s stomach and began to snip. No sooner had she made the first cut when the first little kid popped her head out, looked at mother goat and said, “Hello, Mummy.”

The little kid jumped out, closely followed by her five brothers and sisters.

But how? How could the kids still be alive?

Well, you see, the wolf was such a greedy guts that he had swallowed each of the kids whole, without chewing one single time. So the kids were completely unharmed. No scratches. No teeth marks. Nothing.

The seven kids and mother goat all huddled into a warm embrace, so happy to be safely reunited. 

But this was not the end of the story, for the wolf was still asleep. And if he woke to an empty belly he would know what had happened, so mother goat came up with a plan.

“Darling children,” said mother goat to her seven little kids, “you must now forage for large stones and bring them back to me as quickly as you can.”

They did just that.

The very large stones now lay on the ground next to the wolf.

Mother goat then placed the large stones—one by one—into the wolf’s belly and sewed up the opening very tightly with her needle and thread.

Several hours passed and the wolf awoke.

“Oh my,” said the wolf, “I have a terrible thirst. I must go to the well straight away and get some water to drink.”

As the wolf waddled to the well, the stones began to clunk and rattle in his stomach. 

“I ate six large kids and all of their bones,
But now it feels like I’ve swallowed big stones!”

The wolf arrived at the well. He bent over to get a pale of water, but the weight of the heavy stones in his stomach was too much. The wolf overbalanced, toppled into the well and was never seen again.

The End