Tommy the Tumbler walked to the village, his feet making a thump-thump sound on the dusty road. He was going to see his family and couldn't wait to share tales of his travels.

Home at last! Tommy shouted, 'Mom, Dad, I’m home!' His voice echoed in the little house. His mom wore an apron as bright as the sun and his dad had a hat tipped just right.

They hugged him tight, 'Welcome back, Tommy!' they said. 'Do you want to tell us a story, or should we eat first?' The house smelled like freshly baked pie.

'Pie first, then stories!' Tommy cheered, as they sat around a wooden table filled with food that made his tummy rumble. Yum-yum, he took a bite, and it tasted like home.

After the meal, Tommy waved goodbye to his parents and dashed out to meet his friends. Zoom, he went through the village, like a breeze on a summer day.

He found his friends at the playground, swinging and sliding with glee. They played tag, hide-and-seek, and laughed like the wind in the trees.

As the sun dipped low, Tommy decided to take a stroll. He wandered into the woods, the trees whispering secrets he couldn't quite hear.

Suddenly, he saw a man sitting on an old log. 'Hello there!' Tommy called. The man's hat was old and dusty, and his eyes sparkled like stars.

'Hello, Tommy,' the man replied softly. Tommy blinked, confused. 'Do I know you?' The man smiled a smile that seemed to float like a cloud.

'You met me long ago, but only in dreams,' the man said, his voice like the rustle of leaves. 'I am the ghost of stories past.'

Tommy gasped, 'A ghost!?' But he wasn't scared. The ghost glowed gently and felt like a warm blanket on a cold night.

'Tell me a story, Tommy,' the ghost asked. Tommy took a deep breath and began his tale, the ghost listening with eyes full of wonder.