Egyszer Volt, Hol Nem Volt – Once Upon a Time

Hello Lovelies,

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve found a lot of things I had completely forgotten I even had whilst unpacking. Some of the things hold many fond memories, others are useful and some other things evoked the response, “Why the heck did I keep that for?!” Seriously, why on earth did I have around twenty copies of of wedding mass booklet? Yes, for the memories and sentimental value, but surely one is enough, right?

Anyway, moving on. Another awesome thing I found in the midst of unpacking and sorting through things was a story I wrote in Year 6, at around the age of ten or eleven. I remember the writing task clearly, of aim was to take a well-known fairly tale and reverse it, so the good guys were the bad guys in the story and vice versa.

With this in mind, my primary school self wrote “The Three Bad Pigs vs. the Small Kind Wolf” and I’d like to share it with you now in all of it’s bad punctuation, spelling and grammar glory.

It’s not a story without an awesome title page, stenciled lettering and everything! Image copyright Katherine A. Kovács
The story in all of its messy writing, spelling errors, grammatically incorrect glory! Image copyright Katherine A. Kovács.

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Here’s the full transcript, in case it’s too hard to read in the above image.

Once upon a time there lived a very small wolf. When he was 19 he moved out of home. The wolves mother warned him, “Beware of the 3 bad pigs.” Then the wolf went off to build his house. While he was walking along he came by some straw, he said, “I shall build my house of straw.” The straw house was finished by sundown and the wolf went to bed. During the night guess what happened…. The 3 bad pigs came into the wolves house and put tacks all over the floor and when he woke up he stood on the tacks and yelled his head off. Then the wolf decided to make a stronger house made of sticks, so he did. When the wolf was finished he had dinner and went to bed. Then when the wolf was fast asleep dreaming about his girlfriend, the 3 bad pigs crept into his new stick house and this time they put mouse traps all over the floor and they left. Later during the night the wolf was still dreaming about his girlfriend and he fell out of bed and landed on the mouse traps he screamed and yelled his head off. Then the 3 bad pigs opened the door and said, “Ha Ha.” Then one poked his tongue out. The wolf said, “It’s those stupid pigs.” Then he yelled out, “keep out you stupid pigs.” The next morning after breakfast the wolf made a house of bricks and he phoned the locksmith to keep the pigs out. Then that night the pigs tried to get into the wolves house but couldn’t. Then they saw the chimney and decided to climb down it. One of the pigs said, “Wow I feel like Santa Ho, Ho merry Christmas.” The smart wolf put a pot of water over the fire to boil. Then the pigs fell K, SPLASH! into the pot. Then the wolf sang, “Whose afraid of the 3 bad pigs, the 3 bad pigs, the 3 bad pigs. Whose afraid of the 3 bad pigs tra la la la la la.” Then the cops came and took the pigs away.


I think it was a pretty good effort for a kid still in primary school, illustrations and everything! Although can some please teach primary school me a little more about apostrophes of possession and contractions? Also, who needs paragraphs, am I right?!

Even the teacher liked it I suppose, because the only constructive feedback I got, as you can see, was to improve my handwriting.

“Katherine a very funny ending to the 3 pigs. Neater writing would have increased your marks. 7.5/10”

– The Teacher

Although for a child who was ambidextrous and had low muscle tone in my hands,  I think that the fact that my writing is completely legible when being forced to write in cursive was an absolute miracle!

Now let’s talk about the title of today’s post, “Egyszer Volt, Hol Nem Volt” is the Hungarian equivalent of “Once Upon a Time”. Of course like most things though, it doesn’t directly translate as exactly that, but it’s the Hungarian equivalent of the common phrase used at the beginning of many much-loved fairy tales.

In keeping that in mind, here I have another story for you….

Once upon a time, in a land not very far away, there was a little girl who loved to tell stories. She would tell stories to her mother, she would tell them to her father, she would tell them to her baby brother. Basically she would tell her stories to anyone that would listen. Sometimes she would even write them down, so she could read them later on over and over again, because she loved to read stories as well. Perhaps even as much as she loved telling them.

Somewhere along the way though, the little girl grew up. As the world began to change around her, she began to forget how much she loved to tell stories. The little girl was now a young lady, she still enjoyed to create stories in her mind and to create worlds and music and things, but her days of storytelling seemed to get further and further away.

The young lady grew into a woman and work and everything else began to take over. She felt lost and unsettled, as though she were trapped in a strange world, her future uncertain.

For many years she tried to find her way back to her stories, reaching towards them with an outstretched hand, but they were just out of her reach. Then one day she awoke from a dream, filled to the brim with words, worlds, characters and stories just waiting to break free.

Then she tentatively reached out towards her stories again, first with just one hand and then with both hands and before they could slip away from her again, she grabbed at the words, worlds, characters and stories and grasped them close to her. Then vowed to never again live through the days without stories that she had been living those years.

She embraced the writer within.

Of course there were times in the years without stories that a glimpse of one would make its way to the surface. Where beginnings were made and worlds began to form, reminding her of her love of stories, but nothing was ever finished and the worlds and words would slip away again.

Now though, she vowed that things would be different. If she ever felt lost, unsettled and uncertain, she knew what to do to find her way again. She would reach out, always with both hands and pull the words, stories, worlds and characters close to her once more and let them show her the way.




© Katherine A. Kovács and The Writer Within, (2013-2016). Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Katherine A. Kovács and The Writer Within with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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