Storie Sotto Le Stelle Podcast

La Gata Giannina
La gata Giannina vivía en una casa con jardín. El muro del jardín colindaba con un parque donde los niños se reunían para jugar. El pueblo era pequeño pero encantador — desde los alféizares de las casas, macetas de geranios y petunias descendían como cascadas de colores.
Su dueña, la Señora Mafalda, la llevaba a menudo a pasear por el centro del pueblo. Todos los niños la conocían, y en cuanto la veían, corrían a su encuentro para hacerle fiestas sin parar.
Giannina era muy juguetona. Durante el día se divertía persiguiendo lagartijas, cazando insectos, mariposas y todo lo que se moviera. Para descansar se tumbaba al sol sobre las piedras calientes y luego iba a refrescarse entre la hierba. En el jardín, entre el granado, el limonero y el olivo de hojas plateadas, ella y Mafalda pasaban las tardes jugando juntas.
Pero un día, Mafalda empezó a notar algo extraño. Giannina saltaba para cazar, pero fallaba la puntería y acababa entre los rosales. "¡Ay, ay, ay! ¡Me he pinchado y mi cola está enredada en las ramas!" maullaba. Esquivaba por milagro los árboles donde antes subía con total seguridad. Llegaba a los cuencos del agua y la comida con paso inseguro.
Preocupada, Mafalda la llevó al Veterinario.
Después de escuchar las extrañas aventuras de la gatita, el Doctor sonrió y con aire sabio dio su diagnóstico: "Esta gatita no ve bien. Necesita gafas."
Dicho y hecho — en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, el veterinario buscó en una vitrina llena de monturas para mascotas y, al encontrar la perfecta, exclamó: "¡Aquí tenemos unas gafas dignas de una señora elegante!"
En cuanto se las colocaron en su simpático hociquito, la gata miró a su alrededor maravillada. ¡Veía todo mucho más claro! Se frotó contra las piernas del Veterinario y saltó a los brazos de Mafalda como para darle las gracias.
El Doctor, conmovido por su dulzura, le hizo un regalo especial: una cadenita dorada con una pequeña perla en el centro que brillaba con luz propia. Susurrando, le dijo: "Si cierras los ojos y tocas esta perla con tu naricita, obtendrás poderes mágicos que solo tú tendrás. Servirán para ayudar a los demás."
Giannina pensó que quizás aquel Veterinario también era un Mago, pero no le dijo nada a Mafalda. Era un secreto entre ella y el extraño Doctor.
De camino a casa, la gente se giraba para mirarla pensando: esa gata parece misteriosa, hay algo que destella a su alrededor.
En casa, el primer deseo de Giannina fue subirse a una silla y ponerse a mirar por la ventana. Las flores brillaban en sus colores y hasta la hierba era de un verde reluciente, como cubierta de rocío. Sonreía más feliz que nunca.
Mafalda, compartiendo su alegría, decidió llevarla al parque.
Llegaron en un instante. Las ardillas correteaban por los árboles, los pajaritos volaban cantando de rama en rama. Pequeños animales aparecían por todas partes y los niños los seguían curiosos — corrían con las lagartijas, saltaban con las mariposas que danzaban en el aire, mientras las rojas mariquitas se posaban en su piel como amuletos de buena suerte.
Después de carreras, resbalones y corros, los niños se sentaron en el césped para merendar. De sus mochilas de colores salieron aperitivos deliciosos.
Fue entonces cuando llegaron.
"¡Vriiip! ¡Vriiip! ¡Vriiip!"
A toda velocidad, un pelotón de hormigas pasó zumbando en minimotos rugientes. Llevaban pequeños cascos brillantes en la cabeza, gafitas redondas en los ojos y botitas diminutas en las patitas. Frenaron en seco delante de los niños, levantando nubecitas de polvo.
"¡Paso! ¡Nosotras también estamos aquí!" gritó la hormiga jefa, levantando la visera del casco. "¿Podemos recoger las migas?"
Los niños se rieron a carcajadas. "¡Sí, sí! ¡Comed todas las migas que queráis!"
Las hormigas aparcaron las minimotos en fila ordenada, se quitaron los cascos con gestos teatrales, y se pusieron a trabajar transportando migas del doble de su tamaño, cantando una cancioncilla de marcha.
En esta atmósfera alegre, Giannina y Mafalda paseaban por los senderos. Y de repente, a su paso, los árboles inclinaron sus ramas en una reverencia y las hojas susurraron en señal de saludo. Las rosas en los parterres abrieron sus pétalos y comenzaron a cantar. Las lagartijas golpearon sus colas contra el suelo como si fuera un tambor: "¡Rattatatá! ¡Rattatatá!" Y los ciempiés se pusieron a bailar claqué al ritmo alegre.
"¡Cielos, qué gran alboroto!" exclamó Giannina, que empezaba a sentir un aura misteriosa a su alrededor.
No pudo evitar pensar en el Veterinario Mago. ¿Cuáles podrían ser los poderes mágicos que poseía? ¿Y qué pasaría si tocaba la perla con su naricita?
Se lo dijo a Mafalda, que llevaba un libro de cuentos bajo el brazo. Se miraron y, entendiéndose al vuelo, aprovecharon la ocasión.
Giannina reunió a los niños en un corro. Algunos llegaron rápidamente, otros más tímidos se unieron con calma. También las hormigas, con la panza llena, se pusieron de nuevo los minicascos, dieron una última vuelta rugiente en las minimotos, luego bajaron y se acercaron al grupo.
Era el momento adecuado.
Giannina cerró los ojos y tocó la perla mágica con su naricita. Una chispa dorada brilló en el aire. Tomó el libro de las manos de Mafalda, lo abrió, y eligió el cuento que parecía esperarla, reluciendo entre las páginas.
Con voz dulce, comenzó a leer.
"Había una vez un conejito que vivía en el bosque. Tropezaba con las raíces de los árboles y las piedrecitas. En la escuela se equivocaba al leer las letras y los números, así que ya no quería ir. Cuando la maestra veía sus dibujos le decía: '¡Muy bien!' Lo mismo decían su mamá y su papá: '¡Muy bien!' Pero a él los colores le parecían desvaídos. La verdad era que no veía bien, pero en lugar de decirlo, se escapaba y se escondía en una madriguera bajo un árbol parlante. Y el árbol, con el susurro de sus hojas, le contó un secreto: habla con tus padres. Así lo hizo, y ellos le ayudaron a ponerse gafas. Y el mundo volvió a ser hermoso."
Giannina cerró el libro. Lo había comprendido: con la perla mágica podía leer en el corazón de los niños, descubriendo emociones y secretos que esperaban salir a la luz.
"¿Sabéis?" dijo a sus pequeños oyentes, "yo también hace poco no veía bien. Pero me puse estas gafas y ¡puf! El mundo se volvió más claro y más hermoso."
Un niño se le acercó, casi avergonzado, y le susurró al oído: "Quizás yo también las necesito, como tú."
Giannina lo acarició dulcemente. "Te he ayudado a abrir tu corazón. Ahora habla con tus padres, y todo se resolverá."
Fue entonces cuando un conejito apareció de repente entre los arbustos. Se acercó a Giannina, la abrazó y le dijo: "¡Eres mágicamente mágica!"
Y — no lo creeríais — aquel conejito llevaba un bonito par de gafitas de colores.
Desde aquel día, Giannina tomó de la patita a los niños del pueblo, enseñándoles a creer en sí mismos y a tener confianza. Se convirtió en la mascota con las gafas mágicas, y todos querían llevarlas como ella.
Pero la verdadera maravilla era cómo veía ahora el mundo desde la ventana: más luminoso, más colorido, más vivo. Y cada noche, antes de dormirse, tocaba la perla con su naricita y sonreía, sabiendo que al día siguiente ayudaría a alguien más a ver el mundo con ojos nuevos.
Casi parecía haber sido un sueño. Pero ya se sabe, la realidad y la fantasía a menudo caminan de la mano.
— Escrita por Lucia & Marco Ciappelli

Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.

The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!

If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You’ll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available.

Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Giannina the Cat
Giannina the cat lived in a house with a garden. The garden wall bordered a park where children gathered to play. The town was small but charming — from the windowsills of the houses, pots of geraniums and petunias tumbled down like colorful cascades.
Her owner, Signora Mafalda, often took her around the town center. All the children knew her, and whenever they spotted her, they would run over and shower her with affection.
Giannina was quite the little rascal. During the day she loved chasing lizards, hunting insects, butterflies, and anything that moved. To rest, she would stretch out in the sun on the warm stones, then cool off among the blades of grass. In the garden, among the pomegranate tree, the lemon tree, and the olive with its silvery leaves, she and Mafalda spent their afternoons playing together.
But one day, Mafalda began to notice something strange. Giannina would leap to catch her prey, but she kept missing and ending up in the rose bushes. "Ow, ow, ow! I've pricked myself and my tail is tangled in the branches!" she meowed. She barely managed to dodge trees she used to climb with ease. She reached her food and water bowls with an uncertain gait.
Worried, Mafalda took her to the Veterinarian.
After listening to the little cat's strange adventures, the Doctor smiled and delivered his verdict with a wise air: "This little kitty can't see well. She needs glasses."
No sooner said than done — in the blink of an eye, the veterinarian searched through a display case full of frames for pets and, finding the perfect one, exclaimed: "Here we are — a pair of glasses fit for an elegant lady!"
As soon as they were placed on Giannina's sweet little snout, the cat looked around in wonder. She could see everything so clearly! She rubbed against the Veterinarian's legs and leaped into Mafalda's arms as if to thank her.
The Doctor, touched by her sweetness, gave her a special gift: a golden chain with a small pearl at its center that glowed with its own light. Whispering, he told her: "If you close your eyes and touch this pearl with your little nose, you will gain magical powers that only you will have. They will help you help others."
Giannina thought that perhaps this Veterinarian was also a Wizard, but she said nothing to Mafalda. It was a secret between her and the strange Doctor.
On the way home, people turned to look at her, thinking: that cat seems mysterious — there's something glimmering around her.
At home, Giannina's first wish was to climb onto a chair and gaze out the window. The flowers shone in their colors, and even the grass was a brilliant green, as if covered in dew. She smiled, happier than ever.
Mafalda, sharing in her joy, decided to take her to the park.
They arrived in no time. Squirrels scampered through the trees, birds sang as they flew from branch to branch. Small creatures popped out everywhere, and the children followed them with curiosity — they ran alongside the lizards, leaped with the butterflies dancing in the air, while red ladybugs landed on their skin like good luck charms.
After chases, slides, and ring-around-the-rosy, the children sat down on the grass for their snack. From their colorful backpacks came tasty treats.
That's when they arrived.
"Vriiip! Vriiip! Vriiip!"
At full speed, a platoon of ants zoomed in on rumbling mini-motorcycles. They wore shiny little helmets on their heads, round goggles over their eyes, and tiny boots on their feet. They braked sharply in front of the children, raising little clouds of dust.
"Make way! We're here too!" shouted the lead ant, lifting her visor. "Can we collect the crumbs?"
The children burst out laughing. "Yes, yes! Munch all the crumbs you want!"
The ants parked their mini-motorcycles in a neat row, removed their helmets with theatrical gestures, and got to work carrying crumbs twice their size, singing a little marching song.
In this joyful atmosphere, Giannina and Mafalda strolled along the pathways. And suddenly, as they passed, the trees bent their branches in a bow and their leaves rustled in greeting. The roses in the flower beds opened their petals and began to sing. The lizards beat their tails on the ground like drums: "Rattatatà! Rattatatà!" And the millipedes started tap dancing to the lively rhythm.
"Oh my, what a wonderful commotion!" exclaimed Giannina, who was beginning to feel a mysterious aura around her.
She couldn't help but think of the Wizard Veterinarian. What could these magical powers be? And what would happen if she touched the pearl with her little nose?
She told Mafalda, who was carrying a book of fairy tales under her arm. They looked at each other and, understanding instantly, seized the moment.
Giannina gathered the children in a circle. Some came quickly, others more shy joined in slowly. The ants too, their bellies full, put on their mini helmets again, did one last rumbling lap on their motorcycles, then climbed off and approached the group.
It was the right moment.
Giannina closed her eyes and touched the magic pearl with her little nose. A golden spark flashed in the air. She took the book from Mafalda's hands, opened it, and chose the tale that seemed to be waiting for her, glowing among the pages.
In a gentle voice, she began to read.
"Once upon a time, there was a little rabbit who lived in the woods. He kept tripping over tree roots and pebbles. At school, he made mistakes reading letters and numbers, so he didn't want to go anymore. When the teacher saw his drawings, she said: 'Well done!' His mom and dad said the same: 'Well done!' But to him, the colors seemed faded. The truth was, he couldn't see well, but instead of saying so, he would run away and hide in a burrow beneath a talking tree. And the tree, with the rustle of its leaves, whispered a secret: talk to your parents. So he did, and they helped him get glasses. And the world became beautiful again."
Giannina closed the book. She understood: with the magic pearl, she could read the hearts of children, discovering emotions and secrets waiting to be brought to light.
"You know," she said to her little listeners, "not long ago, I couldn't see well either. But I put on these glasses and poof! The world became clearer and more beautiful."
A boy approached her, almost embarrassed, and whispered in her ear: "Maybe I need them too, like you."
Giannina gently stroked him. "I helped you open your heart. Now talk to your parents, and everything will be fine."
Just then, a little rabbit appeared suddenly from the bushes. He came up to Giannina, hugged her, and said: "You are magically magical!"
And — you won't believe it — that little rabbit was wearing a lovely pair of colorful glasses.
From that day on, Giannina took the children of the town by the paw, teaching them to believe in themselves and to have confidence. She became the mascot with the magic glasses, and everyone wanted to wear them just like her.
But the true wonder was how she now saw the world from her window: brighter, more colorful, more alive. And every evening, before falling asleep, she would touch the pearl with her little nose and smile, knowing that the next day she would help someone else see the world with new eyes.
It almost seemed like it had been a dream. But as we know, reality and fantasy often walk hand in hand.
— Written by Lucia & Marco Ciappelli

Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.

The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!

If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You’ll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available.

Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

La Gatta Giannina
La gatta Giannina viveva in una casa con il giardino. Il muro di cinta confinava da un lato con un parco dove i bambini si ritrovavano per giocare. Il paese era piccolo ma grazioso — dai davanzali delle case, vasi di gerani e di petunie scendevano come cascate colorate.
La sua padrona, la Signora Mafalda, la portava spesso in giro per il centro abitato. Tutti i bambini la conoscevano e appena la vedevano le correvano incontro facendole feste a non finire.
Giannina era una grande giocherellona. Durante la giornata si divertiva a rincorrere lucertole, cacciare insetti, farfalle e tutto ciò che si muoveva. Per riposarsi si sdraiava al sole sulle pietre calde e poi andava a rinfrescarsi tra i fili d'erba. Nel giardino, tra il melograno, il limone e l'ulivo dalle foglie argentate, lei e Mafalda passavano i pomeriggi a giocare insieme.
Ma un giorno Mafalda iniziò a notare qualcosa di strano. Giannina saltava per cacciare, ma sbagliava la mira e finiva tra i cespugli di rose. "Ohi, ohi, ohi! Mi sono bucata e la mia coda è impigliata fra i rami!" miagolava. Scansava per miracolo gli alberi dove prima saliva con sicurezza. Raggiungeva le ciotole dell'acqua e del cibo con andatura incerta.
Preoccupata, Mafalda la portò dal Veterinario.
Dopo aver ascoltato le strane avventure della micina, il Dottore sorrise e con aria saggia diede la sua sentenza: "Questa gattina non ci vede bene. Ha bisogno degli occhiali."
Detto fatto, in quattro e quattr'otto il veterinario cercò in una vetrina piena di montature per animali domestici e, trovata quella perfetta, esclamò: "Ecco qua un paio di occhiali da signora elegante!"
Appena poggiati sul musetto simpatico di Giannina, la gatta si guardò intorno meravigliata. Vedeva tutto più chiaro! Si strofinò alle gambe del Veterinario e saltò fra le braccia di Mafalda come per ringraziarla.
Il Dottore, colpito dalla sua dolcezza, le fece un regalo speciale: una catenella dorata con al centro una piccola perla che brillava di luce propria. Sussurrando, le disse: "Se chiudi gli occhi e sfiori questa perla con il nasino, entrerai in possesso di poteri magici che solo tu avrai. Serviranno per aiutare gli altri."
Giannina pensò che forse quel Veterinario era anche un Mago, ma non disse niente a Mafalda. Era un segreto fra lei e lo strano Dottore.
Sulla strada di ritorno, qualcuno si girava a guardarla pensando: quella gatta sembra misteriosa, c'è qualcosa che luccica intorno a lei.
A casa, il primo desiderio di Giannina fu di salire su una sedia e mettersi a guardare dalla finestra. I fiori brillavano nei loro colori e perfino l'erba era di un verde lucente come coperta di rugiada. Sorrideva felice come non mai.
Mafalda, partecipe della sua gioia, decise di portarla al parco.
Arrivarono in un baleno. Gli scoiattoli sgambettavano sugli alberi, gli uccellini cantando volavano da un ramo all'altro. Piccoli animali sbucavano da ogni parte e i bambini li seguivano curiosi — correvano con le lucertole, saltavano con le farfalle che danzavano nell'aria, mentre le rosse coccinelle si posavano sulla loro pelle come portafortuna.
Dopo rincorse, scivolate e girotondi, i bambini si sedettero sul prato per la merenda. Dagli zainetti colorati uscirono spuntini appetitosi.
Fu allora che arrivarono.
"Vriiip! Vriiip! Vriiip!"
A tutta birra, un plotone di formiche sfrecciava su micromoto rombanti. Portavano mini caschi lucidi in testa, occhialini tondi sugli occhi e stivaletti minuscoli alle zampette. Frenarono di colpo davanti ai bambini, sollevando nuvolette di polvere.
"Pista! Ci siamo anche noi!" gridò la formica capo, alzando la visiera del casco. "Possiamo raccogliere le briciole?"
I bambini risero a crepapelle. "Sì, sì! Sgranocchiate quante briciole volete!"
Le formiche parcheggiarono le micromoto in fila ordinata, si tolsero i caschi con gesti teatrali, e si misero al lavoro trasportando briciole grandi il doppio di loro, cantando una canzoncina di marcia.
In questa atmosfera gioiosa, Giannina e Mafalda camminavano sui vialetti. E improvvisamente, al loro passaggio, gli alberi piegarono i rami come in un inchino e le foglie frusciarono in segno di saluto. Le rose nelle aiuole schiusero le loro corolle e iniziarono a cantare. Le lucertole batterono le code sul terreno come su un tamburo: "Rattatatà! Rattatatà!" E i millepiedi si misero a ballare il tip tap al ritmo allegro.
"Oh cielo, questa è una grande baraonda!" esclamò Giannina, che iniziava a sentire un'aura misteriosa intorno a sé.
Non poté fare a meno di pensare al Veterinario Mago. Quali potevano essere i poteri magici di cui era in possesso? E cosa sarebbe successo toccando la perla con il nasino?
Lo disse a Mafalda, che portava un libro di favole sotto il braccio. Si guardarono e, capendosi al volo, presero la palla al balzo.
Giannina riunì i bambini in un girotondo. Alcuni arrivarono velocemente, altri più timidi si unirono con calma. Anche le formiche, con la pancia piena, indossarono di nuovo i mini caschi, fecero un ultimo giro rombante sulle micromoto, poi scesero e si avvicinarono al gruppo.
Era il momento giusto.
Giannina chiuse gli occhi e sfiorò la perla magica con il nasino. Una scintilla dorata brillò nell'aria. Prese il libro dalle mani di Mafalda, lo aprì, e scelse la favola che sembrava attenderla, luccicando tra le pagine.
Con voce dolce, iniziò a leggere.
"C'era una volta un coniglietto che viveva nel bosco. Inciampava nelle radici sporgenti degli alberi e nei sassolini. A scuola sbagliava a leggere le lettere e i numeri, così non voleva più andarci. Quando la maestra vedeva i suoi disegni gli diceva: 'Bravo!' Lo stesso facevano la mamma e il babbo: 'Bravo!' Ma a lui i colori sembravano sbiaditi. La verità era che non ci vedeva bene, ma invece di dirlo, scappava via e si nascondeva in una tana sotto un albero parlante. E l'albero, con il fruscio delle foglie, gli sussurrò un segreto: parla con i tuoi genitori. Così fece, e loro lo aiutarono a mettersi gli occhiali. E il mondo tornò bellissimo."
Giannina chiuse il libro. Aveva capito: con la perla magica poteva leggere nel cuore dei bambini, scoprendo emozioni e segreti da portare alla luce.
"Sapete," disse ai piccoli ascoltatori, "anch'io fino a poco tempo fa non ci vedevo bene. Ma ho messo questi occhiali e puff! Il mondo è diventato più chiaro e bellissimo."
Un bambino le si avvicinò, quasi vergognandosi, e le sussurrò all'orecchio: "Forse anch'io ne ho bisogno, come te."
Giannina lo accarezzò dolcemente. "Io ti ho aiutato ad aprire il tuo cuore. Ora parla con i tuoi genitori, e tutto sarà risolto."
Fu allora che un coniglietto apparve all'improvviso tra i cespugli. Si avvicinò a Giannina, la abbracciò e le disse: "Tu sei magicamente magica!"
E — non ci credereste — quel coniglietto portava un bel paio di occhialini colorati.
Da quel giorno Giannina prese per mano i bambini del paese, insegnando loro a credere in se stessi e ad avere fiducia. Diventò la mascotte con gli occhiali magici, e tutti volevano indossarli come lei.
Ma la vera meraviglia era come ora vedeva il mondo dalla finestra: più luminoso, più colorato, più vivo. E ogni sera, prima di addormentarsi, sfiorava la perla con il nasino e sorrideva, sapendo che il giorno dopo avrebbe aiutato qualcun altro a vedere il mondo con occhi nuovi.
Sembrava quasi fosse stato un sogno. Ma si sa, realtà e fantasia si prendono spesso per mano.
— Scritta da Lucia & Marco Ciappelli

Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.

The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!

If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You’ll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available.

Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

LA BIBLIOTECA SECRETA DE LEOPOLDO
Hay gente extraña —
les gusta pasar las noches leyendo libros.
Otros son aún más extraños —
creen en la magia que se esconde entre las páginas,
en aventuras fantásticas,
en historias de amores imposibles,
en fantasmas que caminan entre los vivos,
y piensan que todo lo que no existe —
quizás sí existe.
En fin, esta historia es para los que son un poco extraños,
como tú y como yo —ya sabes, para los que.
Entonces… escucha.
Si desde el centro del pueblo tomas el camino hacia el monte,
encontrarás una villa vieja y noble,
que lleva ahí mucho tiempo.
Serán unos 350 años
que está ahí en silencio,
observando y respirando despacio
bajo el cielo toscano.
Salones enormes llenos de historia,
pasillos sin fin,
y ventanas grandes como sueños —
pero ahora, en lugar de platos y figuritas de porcelana,
nos regala historias en papel para quien quiera leerlas.
Sí, ahora es la biblioteca del pueblo —
un poco apartada, pero tan hermosa.
Bueno, no se puede tener todo.
Pues bien, sucedió que,
en una noche de verano,
envuelta en un manto de estrellas
y la luz suave de faroles delicados,
la villa se había llenado de voces, música, sonrisas,
y tantas historias contadas y escuchadas,
en voz alta o susurradas,
que se entrelazaban en el abrazo de la fiesta.Sin duda una noche ya especial,
pero presta atención,
porque algo aún más inusual estaba por suceder.
Sí, porque Elisa también estaba allí.
Ojos grandes como el cielo,
cabello oscuro como la noche,
y un libro en la mano — como siempre.
A pesar de todo lo que pasaba a su alrededor,
Elisa prefería leer.
Estaba allí, en el pasillo principal:
entre el jardín y el patio interior,
a medio camino entre lo seguro y el quizás,
sentada en un sillón un poco grande para ella,
sumergida en una historia misteriosa y cautivadora —
en un mundo todo suyo.
Pasa una página, luego otra,
se acomoda los lentes amarillos,
y pasa otra página…
Cuando lentamente
el eco de una música de piano
llegó a sus oídos.
No le prestó mucha atención.
Creyendo que venía del patio,
pasó otra página — y luego otra.Pero pronto se dio cuenta
de que las notas que escuchaba
no venían del patio de la villa,
sino de uno de sus pasillos —
traídas por una brisa suave,
desde lugares lejanos y sin tiempo.
Sin pensarlo mucho,
Elisa se levantó en silencio,
se puso el libro bajo el brazo,
y siguió la música.
Atravesó antiguos pasillos
y salas con estantes llenos de libros
de todos los tamaños y colores imaginables —
arcoíris de pensamientos y palabras en fila
que parecían no terminar nunca.
Mientras la música se hacía más fuerte,
la luz disminuía,
las salas que atravesaba
comenzaban a parecer olvidadas,
las escaleras de piedra que subía y bajaba
gastadas por el tiempo,
los pasillos laterales eran ahora pasajes oscuros
iluminados solo por antorchas en las paredes,
que aparecían y desaparecían en la oscuridad
como respiraciones.Una escalera,
una puerta de madera entreabierta,
otro pasaje,
otra escalera,
y más salas y estantes y libros sin fin.
Luego, de pronto,
una neblina cubrió el suelo
como una marea gentil,
y frente a ella una gran cortina pesada —
entreabierta.
Se veía un poco de luz
y unas pequeñas escaleras de madera.
Las subió, esas pequeñas escaleras,
y la música la envolvió como un abrazo.
En el escenario, velas flotaban en el aire
como luciérnagas en una noche sin tiempo.
Y allí, en el centro,
sentado frente a un piano pequeñito,
había un ratón.
Pero no un ratón cualquiera.
Leopoldo llevaba una chaqueta de tweed verde oscuro,
pantalones marrones planchados con cuidado,
y en su hociquito, unos lentes dorados
que brillaban con una sabiduría antigua y gentil.Sus dedos danzaban sobre las teclas
como si estuvieran contando un secreto.
«Bienvenida, Elisa», dijo, sin dejar de tocar.
«Te estaba esperando.»
Elisa parpadeó, encantada.
«¿Cómo sabes mi nombre?»
«Ah», sonrió Leopoldo, dejando que la última nota
se apagara suavemente en el aire,
«quien ama las historias siempre reconoce a quien las busca.»
Se levantó, se ajustó la chaqueta con un gesto elegante,
y la miró con ojos llenos de estrellas.
«¿Sabes dónde estás?»
«En la biblioteca del pueblo», respondió Elisa,
pero su voz temblaba un poco,
como si supiera que la respuesta era otra.
«Esa la conocen todos», dijo Leopoldo,
bajando despacio del escenario.
«Cada pueblo tiene una que todos conocen.
Pero cada pueblo también tiene otra —
una que casi nadie encuentra.»
Hizo una pausa, los ojos brillando.
«Tú has encontrado la segunda.»• • •
Leopoldo la guió hacia una gran puerta de madera
que Elisa habría jurado que no estaba ahí un momento antes.
Se abrió lentamente, sin ruido,
como un suspiro contenido demasiado tiempo.
Y lo que vio le quitó el aliento.
Estantes infinitos trepaban hacia arriba,
descendían hacia abajo,
se extendían en todas direcciones
como espirales de galaxias hechas de papel y sueños.
Velas flotaban por todas partes,
iluminando libros que parecían respirar,
latir despacio,
como corazones dormidos.
«¿Qué lugar es este?», susurró Elisa.
«Esta», dijo Leopoldo caminando entre los estantes,
«es la biblioteca de los libros nunca escritos.»
Elisa lo siguió, confundida.
«¿Libros nunca escritos? ¿Pero cómo pueden existir?»
Leopoldo se detuvo, se volvió,
y la miró con dulzura infinita.
«Cada historia soñada existe, Elisa.
Cada aventura imaginada antes de dormir.Cada cuento pensado pero nunca puesto en papel.
Todos viven aquí,
en la frontera entre el mundo y el sueño,
esperando.»
• • •
Se detuvieron frente a un estante.
Leopoldo señaló un libro pequeño,
encuadernado en azul como un cielo de verano.
«Tócalo», dijo suavemente.
Elisa extendió la mano, vacilante,
y rozó la portada.
Un calor gentil le atravesó los dedos.
Y por un instante — solo un instante —
escuchó la risa de un niño,
vio un dragón hecho de nubes,
y un castillo construido con almohadas y mantas.
«Este», dijo Leopoldo,
«era el sueño de un niño de seis años.
Una historia que le contaba cada noche a su osito de peluche.
Nunca la escribió.
Pero existe. ¿Ves? Existe.»
Elisa sonrió, el corazón ligero.• • •
Caminaron más,
por pasillos de historias silenciosas,
hasta que Leopoldo se detuvo frente a otro libro.
Este era diferente.
Más grande, encuadernado en cuero oscuro,
con letras doradas que parecían temblar.
«¿Y este?», preguntó Elisa, bajito.
«Este», dijo Leopoldo,
y su voz se hizo suave como una caricia,
«pertenecía a una abuela.»
Elisa lo tocó.
Y sintió algo diferente.
No una risa, esta vez.
Sino una voz cálida, lejana,
que contaba de una niña valiente
que atravesaba un bosque encantado
para llevar la luz a un pueblo olvidado.
«Era la historia que quería dejarles a sus nietos»,
explicó Leopoldo.
«Pero el tiempo… el tiempo a veces corre más rápido que los sueños.
No le alcanzó el tiempo para escribirla.»
Elisa sintió que le ardían los ojos.«Pero está aquí», susurró.
«Está aquí», confirmó Leopoldo.
«Para siempre.»
• • •
Siguieron caminando, en silencio,
hasta que llegaron a un estante diferente a los demás.
Estaba casi vacío.
Solo unos pocos libros, espaciados,
y tantos espacios abiertos, esperando.
En el centro, un libro sin título.
La portada era blanca, limpia,
como nieve recién caída,
como una página esperando su primera marca.
«¿Puedo?», preguntó Elisa.
Leopoldo asintió.
Lo tocó.
Nada.
Ningún calor. Ninguna voz.
Solo silencio.
Pero un silencio lleno,
como un aliento contenido.«Este libro está vacío», dijo Elisa, sorprendida.
«Aún no escrito», corrigió Leopoldo.
«Ni siquiera soñado. Todavía no.
Espera a alguien que encuentre el coraje
de imaginarlo.»
Se volvió hacia ella,
y sus ojos brillaron
como las velas que flotaban alrededor.
«Quizás te espera a ti.
Quizás espera a alguien más.
Pero espera.»
• • •
Elisa se quedó quieta,
mirando aquel libro blanco.
Y comprendió.
Comprendió que cada historia que había imaginado,
cada aventura inventada antes de dormir,
cada sueño que creía perdido al despertar,
existía en algún lugar.
Y comprendió algo más.
Que no hay que tener miedo de escribir.
Porque las historias ya existen —en el corazón, en la mente, en los sueños.
Ponerlas en papel
no es crearlas de la nada.
Es solo abrir una puerta
y dejarlas salir.
• • •
«Tengo que irme, ¿verdad?», dijo Elisa, bajito.
Leopoldo sonrió.
«Tu mundo te espera.
Pero ahora sabes que este lugar existe.
Y sabes que cada historia que sueñes
siempre tendrá un lugar aquí,
la escribas o no.»
Hizo una pausa.
«Pero si la escribes», añadió con una sonrisa pícara,
«podrá vivir también allá afuera.
Y esa, mi querida, es otra magia todavía.»
• • •
Elisa se encontró de nuevo en el pasillo de la villa,
sentada en el sillón un poco grande para ella,
el libro todavía bajo el brazo.
La fiesta continuaba,voces y música y risas,
como si el tiempo nunca hubiera pasado.
Pero algo había cambiado.
Ella había cambiado.
Abrió el libro que estaba leyendo,
miró las páginas,
y sonrió.
Luego lo cerró.
Porque ahora sabía
que las historias más bellas
no son solo las que leemos.
Son las que llevamos dentro,
las que soñamos con los ojos abiertos,
y las que un día,
con un poco de coraje,
nos atrevemos a contar.

— Esta historia fue escrita por Marco Ciappelli para "Storie Sotto Le Stelle"

Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.

The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!

If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You’ll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available.

Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

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LEOPOLDO'S SECRET LIBRARY
Some people are strange — they like to spend their evenings reading books.
Others are even stranger — they believe in the magic found between pages, in fantastical adventures, in stories of impossible love, in ghosts that walk among the living, and they think that everything that doesn't exist — maybe does after all.
In short, this story is for those who are a little strange, like you and me — you know, for those who.
So… listen.
If you take the road up the hill from the center of town, you'll find an old and noble villa, one that has been there for a very long time. It must be about 350 years now that it has stood there in silence, watching and breathing softly beneath the Tuscan sky.
Enormous rooms filled with history, endless corridors, and windows as large as dreams — but now, instead of porcelain plates and figurines, it gives us stories on paper for those who wish to read them.
Yes, now it's the town library — a bit out of the way, but so beautiful. Well, you can't have everything.
Now, on a summer night, wrapped in a blanket of stars and the soft glow of delicate lanterns, the villa had filled with voices, music, smiles, and so many stories told and heard, spoken aloud or whispered, intertwining in the embrace of the celebration.
A special evening already, no doubt, but pay attention, because something even more unusual was about to happen.
Yes, because Elisa was there too. Eyes as wide as the sky, hair as dark as the night, and a book in her hand — as always.
Despite everything happening around her, Elisa preferred to read.
She was there, in the main corridor: between the garden and the inner courtyard, halfway between the certain and the perhaps, sitting in an armchair a little too big for her, lost in a mysterious and captivating story — in a world all her own.
She turns a page, then another, adjusts her yellow glasses, and turns another page…
When slowly, the echo of piano music reached her ears.
She didn't pay much attention. Thinking it came from the courtyard, she turned another page — and then another.
But before long she realized that the notes she heard were not coming from the villa's courtyard but from one of its corridors — carried by a gentle breeze, from faraway places outside of time.
Without thinking too much, Elisa rose silently, tucked her book under her arm, and followed the music.
She crossed ancient corridors and rooms with shelves full of volumes of every size and color imaginable — rainbows of thoughts and words lined up one by one that seemed to never end.
As the music grew stronger, the light faded, the rooms she passed through began to appear forgotten, the stone stairs she climbed and descended worn by time, the side corridors were now dark passages lit only by torches on the walls, appearing and disappearing in the darkness like breaths.
A staircase, a wooden door left ajar, another passage, another staircase, and still more rooms and shelves and books without end.
Then, suddenly, a mist covered the floor like a gentle tide, and there, before her, a heavy curtain — half open.
A little light showed through, and a few small wooden steps.
She climbed them, those little stairs, and the music wrapped around her like an embrace.
On the stage, candles floated in the air like fireflies on a timeless night. And there, at the center, seated before a tiny piano, was a mouse.
But not just any mouse.
Leopoldo wore a dark green tweed jacket, brown trousers pressed with care, and on his little snout, golden spectacles that gleamed with ancient and gentle wisdom.
His fingers danced on the keys as if they were telling a secret.
"Welcome, Elisa," he said, without stopping his playing. "I've been waiting for you."
Elisa blinked, enchanted. "How do you know my name?"
"Ah," Leopoldo smiled, letting the last note fade softly into the air, "those who love stories always recognize those who seek them."
He stood, adjusted his jacket with an elegant gesture, and looked at her with eyes full of stars.
"Do you know where you are?"
"In the town library," Elisa answered, but her voice trembled a little, as if she knew the answer was something else.
"That one everyone knows," said Leopoldo, stepping down slowly from the stage. "Every town has one that everyone knows. But every town also has another — one that almost no one finds."
He paused, his eyes gleaming.
"You have found the second."
Leopoldo led her toward a large wooden door that Elisa could have sworn wasn't there a moment before. It opened slowly, without a sound, like a sigh held too long.
And what she saw took her breath away.
Endless shelves climbed upward, descended downward, stretched in every direction like spirals of galaxies made of paper and dreams. Candles floated everywhere, illuminating books that seemed to breathe, to pulse softly, like sleeping hearts.
"What is this place?" Elisa whispered.
"This," said Leopoldo, walking among the shelves, "is the library of books never written."
Elisa followed, confused. "Books never written? But how can they exist?"
Leopoldo stopped, turned, and looked at her with infinite gentleness.
"Every story ever dreamed exists, Elisa. Every adventure imagined before sleep. Every tale thought but never put to paper. They all live here, at the border between the world and the dream, waiting."
They stopped before a shelf.
Leopoldo pointed to a small book, bound in blue like a summer sky.
"Touch it," he said softly.
Elisa reached out, hesitant, and brushed the cover.
A gentle warmth passed through her fingers. And for an instant — just an instant — she heard a child's laughter, saw a dragon made of clouds, and a castle built of pillows and blankets.
"This," said Leopoldo, "was the dream of a six-year-old boy. A story he told his teddy bear every night. He never wrote it down. But it exists. You see? It exists."
Elisa smiled, her heart light.
They walked on, through corridors of silent stories, until Leopoldo stopped before another book.
This one was different. Larger, bound in dark leather, with golden letters that seemed to tremble.
"And this one?" asked Elisa, quietly.
"This one," said Leopoldo, and his voice grew soft as a caress, "belonged to a grandmother."
Elisa touched it.
And she felt something different.
Not laughter, this time. But a warm, distant voice, telling of a brave little girl who crossed an enchanted forest to bring light to a forgotten village.
"It was the story she wanted to leave her grandchildren," Leopoldo explained. "But time… time sometimes runs faster than dreams. She didn't have time to write it."
Elisa felt her eyes sting.
"But it's here," she whispered.
"It's here," Leopoldo confirmed. "Forever."
They continued walking, in silence, until they reached a shelf unlike the others.
It was nearly empty. Only a few books, spaced apart, and so many open spaces, waiting.
At the center, a book without a title.
The cover was white, clean, like freshly fallen snow, like a page waiting for its first mark.
"May I?" asked Elisa.
Leopoldo nodded.
She touched it.
Nothing. No warmth. No voice. Only silence. But a full silence, like a breath held.
"This book is empty," said Elisa, surprised.
"Not yet written," Leopoldo corrected. "Not even dreamed. Not yet. It waits for someone to find the courage to imagine it."
He turned toward her, and his eyes shone like the candles floating around them.
"Perhaps it waits for you. Perhaps it waits for someone else. But it waits."
Elisa stood still, looking at that white book.
And she understood.
She understood that every story she had ever imagined, every adventure invented before sleep, every dream she thought lost upon waking, existed somewhere.
And she understood something else.
That you don't have to be afraid to write.
Because stories already exist — in the heart, in the mind, in dreams. Putting them on paper is not creating them from nothing. It is only opening a door and letting them out.
"I have to go, don't I?" said Elisa, softly.
Leopoldo smiled. "Your world awaits you. But now you know this place exists. And you know that every story you dream will always have a place here, whether you write it or not."
He paused.
"But if you do write it," he added with a sly smile, "it can live out there too. And that, my dear, is another kind of magic."
Elisa found herself back in the villa's corridor, sitting in the armchair a little too big for her, the book still under her arm.
The celebration went on, voices and music and laughter, as if no time had passed at all.
But something had changed.
She had changed.
She opened the book she had been reading, looked at the pages, and smiled.
Then she closed it.
Because now she knew that the most beautiful stories are not only the ones we read.
They are the ones we carry inside, the ones we dream with our eyes open, and the ones that one day, with a little courage, we dare to tell.
— This story was written by Marco Ciappelli for "Storie Sotto Le Stelle"
 

Each story is currently written and narrated in both Italian and English.

The translation from Italian (the original language) to English and the reading of the stories are performed using Generative Artificial Intelligence — which perhaps has a touch of magic... We hope it has done a good job!

If you like it, make sure to tell your friends, family, and teachers, and subscribe to this podcast to stay updated. You’ll be able to read or listen to new stories as soon as they become available.

Visit us On The Official Website https://www.storiesottolestelle.com/

Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.