At the edge of the village stood a little hill, with the sleepy village below. Every day a shepherd boy grazed his sheep there. The sheep went nibble-nibble at the grass, butterflies drifted by, and the boy set down his flute and yawned, “Ugh! Same hill, same grass, every day. Nothing fun ever happens!”
Suddenly a naughty idea popped into the boy's head. He cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “Wolf! A wolf is here! Help, help!” And oh, what a stir! The villagers dropped their work and came thundering up the hill with sticks — “Where? Where's the wolf?”
The boy rolled about laughing. “Hee hee hee! There's no wolf at all! I fooled every one of you!” An old uncle wiped his brow and said, “Shame, child. You mustn't lie.” The boy didn't listen. Next day, again — “Wolf!” The day after, again. Each time the people ran, and each time he laughed. Now tell me — what do you think happens next?
Then one evening, two yellow eyes lit up in the bushes. A real wolf! The sheep scattered, bleating baa-baa. The boy's heart went thud-thud, his hands and feet turned cold. He cried out with all his might, “Wolf! A real wolf this time! Uncle, oh uncle — help!”
The villagers heard him — but nobody moved. “Hmph! That lying cry again!” they said, and went back to their work. The boy called… and called again… till his voice cracked. Still no one came. And the wolf? It drove the two biggest sheep of the flock away into the dark forest.
Night settled over the hill. The sheep that were left huddled close against the boy. He sat in silence, hugging his knees tight, tears falling drip-drip. Today he had told the truth — and still no one believed him. And now, at last, he understood why.
At dawn, the old uncle climbed the hill. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and said gently, “You see it now, child? When someone lies, no one believes him — even when he tells the truth.” The boy wiped his eyes and nodded. From that day on, he never lied again. Only the two lost sheep — they never came back.