The Boy Who Cried Wolf

A long time ago, near a small village, there lived a shepherd boy named Eli. His job was simple: take the sheep to the hillside each morning, keep them safe, and bring them home at sunset.

At first, Eli enjoyed the quiet. The hilltop was breezy, the clouds were slow, and the sheep were gentle.

But after many days, Eli grew bored.

He watched the sheep nibble grass. He watched ants carry crumbs. He watched the village far below.

“I wish something exciting would happen,” Eli sighed.

Then a mischievous thought popped into his mind.

He ran down the hill and burst into the village square, waving his arms.

“Wolf! Wolf!” Eli shouted. “A wolf is attacking my sheep!”

The villagers gasped. They grabbed sticks and tools and raced up the hill.

When they arrived, there was no wolf.

Eli laughed. “I tricked you!”

Some villagers frowned. Others shook their heads.

“Don’t do that,” said an old farmer. “When we run to help, we leave our work and our children. Crying wolf is not a game.”

Eli shrugged. The villagers returned home.

The next day, Eli was bored again.

He smirked and ran to the village.

“Wolf! Wolf!” he cried even louder.

Again, the villagers rushed up the hill.

Again, there was no wolf.

Eli laughed until his sides hurt.

This time, the villagers were angry.

“You wasted our time twice,” said a baker. “If you lie again, we won’t come.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said.

Days later, a real wolf appeared.

It crept from the forest quietly, its eyes sharp and hungry.

The sheep scattered.

Eli’s stomach dropped. His throat tightened.

He ran down the hill, truly terrified.

“Wolf! Wolf!” he screamed. “Please help! It’s real!”

In the village, people heard him. They paused.

“Is he lying again?” someone asked.

“It must be another trick,” said another.

No one moved.

Eli screamed and screamed, but the village stayed still.

By the time a few villagers finally climbed the hill to check, the wolf was gone. Several sheep had been taken.

Eli sat on the ground, crying.

The old farmer knelt beside him. “We didn’t come because you taught us not to believe you,” he said gently. “Trust is like a rope. You can cut it quickly with lies, but it takes a long time to weave it back together.”

Eli wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

The villagers helped him gather the remaining sheep. From that day on, Eli never lied for fun again. He learned that words have power—and when you use that power carelessly, people stop listening.

And so the hillside carried a lesson for all who heard the story:

If you lie often, even the truth may be ignored.