A moment where nothing is asked of you.
No understanding is required.
No lesson is waiting at the end.

The Mirae Tales begin there.

These stories are not meant to hurry a child forward, nor to pull them out of where they are. They are not written to improve behavior, correct feelings, or guide a child toward being more agreeable, more confident, or more “ready” for the world.

They begin from a simpler truth.

A child does not arrive unfinished.

From the very beginning, children carry their own rhythm, their own way of sensing, their own quiet intelligence. Long before they have words for it, they know when something feels safe — and when it does not. They know when they are being rushed, shaped, or subtly asked to become someone else.

The Mirae Tales do not ask that.

They are written as places a child can enter and remain themselves.

Nothing in these stories needs to be understood all at once. Some children will listen quietly. Some will ask questions. Some will notice small details — a feeling, a moment, a pause — and carry those with them long after the story ends.

That is enough.

If you are reading these stories to a child, your role is not to explain them. You do not need to translate meaning, point out lessons, or check whether something “landed.”

The stories do their own work.

If you are reading these stories as an adult, you may notice something else happening. A slowing. A remembering. A sense that these words are not only for children — but for the part of you that once needed to hear them too.

That is welcome here.

The Mirae Tales move gently. They trust that what needs to be noticed will find its own moment. They leave space where space is needed, and silence where silence is kind.

Before the first story opens, you are invited to do one simple thing:

Pause.

Let the world be as it is for a moment.
Let the child be as they are.
Let yourself be as you are.

Then — when it feels right — the story will begin.