Top 10 Most Touching Fairytales About Mothers

Long ago, a little girl lived with her mother in a humble, thatched hut. Despite their poverty, the girl was deeply devoted to her mother. Unfortunately, her mother fell seriously ill, but due to their financial struggles, they couldn't afford the necessary medicine, and the girl became heartbroken.

One day, while sitting by the roadside in tears, an elderly man walked by and, noticing her distress, stopped to ask what was wrong. After hearing her story, he told her:

– 'Go into the forest and find the oldest tree. On its branches, you will discover a single flower. The number of petals on the flower will tell you how many more days your mother has to live.'

The little girl ventured into the forest, and after a long search, she found the white flower. She struggled to climb the tree to pick it. However, when she counted the petals, she found only four. 'Four petals? Is my mother going to live just four more days?' she thought, overwhelmed with sadness. Unable to accept this, she gently pulled the petals apart, and as she did, more petals appeared, so many that they became impossible to count. From that day on, this flower was known as the White Chrysanthemum, a symbol of the girl's immense filial devotion to her mother.

Once upon a time, a ruler in a distant land decreed a law that stated, 'Take the old and useless people to the mountain, for they no longer serve any purpose.' A young man in a nearby village had an elderly mother who could no longer walk. The young man tried to resist the law, but his mother, understanding the consequences, told him to comply to avoid punishment.

As he carried his mother up the mountain, tears streamed down his face. Along the way, his mother broke off branches from trees. The young man asked why she did this, and she replied, 'I am marking the path for you, so you can find your way back without getting lost.'

Moved by his mother's unconditional love, the young man decided not to abandon her. He took her back home and hid her under the floorboards.

One day, the ruler from a neighboring land challenged the local ruler to a riddle contest, threatening to attack if he didn't receive a satisfactory answer. Given the country's poverty, the local ruler feared he could not defend his kingdom if war broke out. The ruler then sought out someone who could solve the riddle. The young man shared the riddle with his hidden mother, and she immediately gave him the answer. The young man rushed to the ruler and prevented the invasion.

Overjoyed, the ruler offered the young man any reward he desired. The young man asked, 'Please, abolish the law that casts away the elderly, for the wisdom I have comes from the mother I have hidden beneath my floorboards!' Upon hearing this, the ruler withdrew the law and changed his mind.

This is a Japanese folk tale that critiques the practice of abandoning the elderly, believing they have no more value. It also reminds us that everything we have today is a gift from our mothers' sacrifices, and we should be grateful and repay them.

Long ago, the world was bathed in the bright light of day. People had no knowledge of darkness. The Sun God, proud of his power, believed that nothing could live without his light. Yet, from up high, he didn’t see that all creatures were dying of thirst and fatigue, unable to rest properly due to the constant daylight.

In the midst of scorching summer heat, everything withered under the oppressive sun. Water evaporated, leaves turned yellow, and hunger spread across the land. In a humble home, a mother and her three children were suffering from the heat and hunger. Saddened by her children’s plight, the mother decided to seek out the Sun God. Before she left, she told her eldest son:

– I am going to ask the Sun God to lessen the heat and grant us some nighttime so we can rest. While I am gone, take good care of your siblings.

The eldest son nodded, and the mother packed enough rice and water to last until the 15th of the month. She kissed each of her children goodbye, and set off on her journey. Her children stood at the door, waving with teary eyes, while the mother promised to return as soon as possible.

She traveled for days, but the sky was still out of reach. Finally, exhausted, she collapsed near a mountain. A white rabbit came across her and, seeing her distress, gave her water to drink. She regained her strength and told the rabbit her story. The rabbit, moved by her words, led her to the heavens. After walking for two more miles, they reached the sky. The Sun God, upon seeing her, demanded:

– Who dares enter my domain? Do you not know this is forbidden?

The mother explained, trembling:

– Please, Sun God, my children are starving and suffering. I have come to ask you to lessen the heat and bring some darkness to give us rest.

The Sun God frowned and replied:

– How dare you! For thousands of years, you humans have relied on my light to live. Now you ask for darkness?

The mother, bowing her head, replied:

– Yes, we need your light to work, but there are times when we need rest. Without sleep, we lose strength, and none of us can continue working. I beg you to reconsider.

The Sun God, looking down upon the earth, saw the desolation below. Trees had withered, animals lay motionless, and people, weak from exhaustion, could barely move. He was saddened and said:

– I cannot stop my sun completely, for it keeps away evil spirits. If darkness fills the world, demons will thrive, and humans will suffer even more. However, I will allow some light in the darkness to guide you and protect you from harm. But who will sacrifice themselves to become that light?

Without hesitation, the mother agreed to the sacrifice, but asked for one day to return to her children. The Sun God granted her wish. She returned home and, though she knew she would never see her children again, smiled as they ran to embrace her.

That evening, the mother spent her last moments with her children, teaching her eldest son how to plant rice, her daughter how to sew, and advising her youngest to listen to her older siblings. She promised that no matter where she went, she would always be watching over them.

On the 15th of the eighth month, as instructed by the Sun God, she stood outside her house, facing the sky and letting go of her spirit. As she ascended, she saw the night sky unfold, and the soft light from above cast its glow on the earth. Looking down, she saw her children crying for her, and tears filled her eyes.

To this day, the soft light in the sky is known as the moon, and the round shape that appears during the full moon is said to symbolize the sacrifice of a loving mother. The brightest light shines on the 15th and 16th nights of the lunar month, as it is said that on those nights, her children honor her memory with mooncakes. Thus, the tradition of the Mid-Autumn Festival and mooncakes was born.

Once upon a time, at the foot of a mountain, there lived an elderly mother and her son. The mother was ill from overwork, suffering from severe abdominal pain and chest discomfort, and she would often clutch her chest, grimacing in pain. Her son, devoted and loving, sought help everywhere to cure her but with no success.

One night, just as he had fallen into a light sleep, the son dreamt of a beautiful fairy who floated to their home. The fairy handed his mother a fruit shaped like her delicate hand. Upon inhaling its fragrance, his mother’s ailments miraculously vanished. The son laughed joyfully, but as he opened his eyes, he realized it was just a dream.

Though his mother’s condition improved slightly, the illness returned after twenty days. Determined to find the miraculous fruit he had seen in his dream, the son packed supplies and bade his mother farewell, heading up the mountain. For ninety-nine days, he searched tirelessly, overturning every stone and clearing every patch of grass, but he found no trace of the fruit.

One evening, weary and almost hopeless, the son sat resting on a rock when a strong wind blew by, and an old man with a long white beard appeared before him. The old man spoke: “Son, there is a forest of fruit trees at the mountain’s peak. Perhaps the fruit you seek is there.” With that, the old man vanished.

The son, feeling as though he had encountered a deity, was filled with hope. Ignoring his fatigue, he hurried toward the mountain’s summit.

On the second night, after much struggle, he finally reached the peak. To his astonishment, he found the mountaintop covered in golden fruits, swaying in the breeze in various shapes. He turned in every direction, delighting in the sight.

Suddenly, a beautiful young woman appeared before him, radiant and graceful like a fairy. She looked at him kindly – it was the same fairy from his dream. He knelt down in awe. The fairy said, “You have crossed many rivers and climbed many mountains out of love for your mother. Your filial piety is commendable. Follow me.”

They entered the “Fairy Garden,” where the boy saw trees bearing the most exquisite fruits, including those shaped like the delicate hand of a maiden, the tiny fist of a child, and even ones resembling various objects like a monk’s fan or the petals of a rare flower. The golden fruits emitted a faint, sweet fragrance. The son walked around the garden, mesmerized by the beauty and scent of the fruits.

The fairy explained, “These fruits are sacred. Long ago, the deity Shennong, at the command of the Jade Emperor, created these trees, modeling their fruits after the heavenly hands of fairies. These fruits can cure all diseases and are also used to decorate the immortal realm. One fruit is enough to heal your mother’s illness.”

The son, however, replied, “I want my mother to benefit from the fragrance of these fruits every day to cure her completely. Would you grant me a tree to plant at home?”

The fairy, moved by his devotion, smiled and said, “I will give you a tree to plant in your garden.” The son bowed deeply in gratitude.

Once home, the son found a suitable plot of land in front of their house. He dug a long trench to channel spring water to the site, ensuring the tree would be watered daily. That year, the tree bore abundant fruit. From then on, his mother inhaled the fragrance of the heavenly fruit each day, and her health gradually improved.

The golden fruit, with its fragrant aroma and hand-like shape, proved so effective in healing that the villagers began calling it the “Buddha’s Hand Fruit.”

Once upon a time, there was a little chick who lived with its mother in a small nest by the edge of the forest. Although the chick was no longer a baby, its wings were still covered in soft down, and it hadn't learned to fly. While all its friends had begun flying and learning how to forage with their mothers, this chick still believed it was too small and insisted on being fed by its mother.

That year, the weather was dry, and the trees were withering, leaving the worms scarce. The mother bird worked hard all day, flying tirelessly in search of food, but only managed to bring back a few small worms and some leftover grains. Out of love for her child, she went hungry and gave all the food to the chick. The chick, unaware, complained loudly, claiming that it had been starving all day and accusing the mother of eating all its portion. The chick even ordered the mother to sleep outside, saying it didn't want to share the nest with a mother who didn't care. The mother was deeply saddened but still went out to find more food for her ungrateful chick. As night fell, exhausted and hungry, the mother rested outside the nest, while the chick slept soundly, with no concern for its mother.

In the middle of the night, a fire broke out and quickly spread through the forest. In a panic, the mother bird rushed into the nest to save her chick. The chick, who could have flown away, hadn't learned to do so and had to be carried by the mother. The mother pushed herself to the limit, but when they reached the edge of the forest, she was too weak and her wings caught fire.

When they finally escaped, more than half of the mother bird’s feathers had burned off, and she was barely alive. The chick, frantic, called out for help, but no one came.

Moments later, the mother bird passed away.

The chick cried bitterly by its mother’s side, filled with regret for the wrongs it had done to her. The warm, late tears fell onto the mother’s frail body, and then, by some miracle, the mother slowly regained consciousness, her tired eyes opening to gaze lovingly at her little one. The chick clung to her, sobbing:

– Mother, I’m so sorry! From now on, I promise I will be obedient and never upset you again. I love you more than anything in the world.

From that day on, whenever the other creatures of the forest saw the chick, they praised its diligence and filial piety toward its mother.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who was spoiled by his mother, making him mischievous and fond of playing. One day, after being scolded by his mother, he stormed off in anger. He wandered aimlessly, and his mother, worried, waited for him at home. Days passed without him returning, and his mother, exhausted from worry, fainted. No one knew how long he had been gone. One day, cold and hungry, and after being bullied by older children, the boy finally remembered his mother: "That's right, when I was hungry, she always fed me; when others picked on me, she would defend me. I need to go back to her." He hurried back home... Everything seemed the same, but his mother was nowhere to be found. Desperately, he called out her name, "Mom, where are you? I'm so hungry!" The boy collapsed in despair, clutching a tree in the garden and crying. Miraculously, the tree began to shake. Tiny flowers bloomed on the branches, pure white like clouds. The flowers faded, and fruit grew quickly, smooth and shiny. One large fruit fell into the boy's hands. He took a big bite, but it was too sour. Another fruit fell, and he peeled it, but the seed was too hard. A third fruit fell, and he gently squeezed it, causing the skin to soften and crack. A stream of white milk poured out, as sweet and fragrant as mother's milk... The boy drank the milk, savoring its sweetness, just like his mother's. The tree whispered softly: "It takes three tries to appreciate the taste of the fruit. Only after growing up can you truly understand a mother's love." The boy burst into tears, realizing his mother was gone. He looked up at the tree's leaves, one side green and glossy, the other red like his mother's eyes after crying and waiting for him. He hugged the tree, its rough trunk feeling like his mother's hardworking hands. His tears fell onto the tree's roots, and the branches seemed to embrace him, shaking like a mother's loving touch. The boy shared his story with others, expressing his deep regret. The fruit in the garden became beloved by all. People took the seeds, planted them everywhere, and named the tree the "Milk Fruit Tree." Moral: Children must honor their parents. A mother's love is boundless and eternal.

Long ago, when the first Mother was being created on Earth, the Creator worked tirelessly for six consecutive days, losing track of food and sleep, but still not finishing the task. Seeing this, a deity asked, "Why are you spending so much time on this creation?" The Creator replied, "You see, this is an extremely complex being, made up of over two hundred interchangeable parts, incredibly durable, yet not made of wood or stone. This creation can live on just water and leftover food, but still has the strength to embrace many children at once. Its kiss can heal any wound, from a scraped knee to a broken heart. I also plan to give this being six pairs of hands." The deity was astonished. "Six pairs of hands? That's unbelievable!" The Creator responded, "That would still be too few. If it had three pairs of eyes, it still might not be enough." The deity then said, "But that would violate the standards you've set for humans." The Creator sighed, "True. This creation is my most beloved, and I’ve given it my utmost care. It will have one pair of eyes that can see through closed doors and know what the children are doing. Another pair will be at the back of its head to see things others think are impossible to know. The third pair will be on its forehead, allowing it to look deep into the hearts of the lost children, and it will silently reassure them that their Mother understands, loves, and is ready to forgive any mistakes, even without saying a word." The deity touched the creation the Creator was working so hard on and exclaimed, "Why is it so soft?" The Creator replied, "You don't understand. This being is incredibly strong. You cannot imagine the pain and the immense tasks it will endure throughout its life." The deity seemed to realize something and gently touched the Mother’s cheek. "Oh, I see. You’ve dropped something here." "No," said the Creator, "Those are tears." "Tears? What are they for?" the deity asked. "Tears are for expressing joy, sorrow, disappointment, pain, loneliness, and even pride — things every Mother will experience." This story tells of the creation of a mother, someone who works the hardest, suffers the most, yet loves the most. Mothers are willing to sacrifice everything for their children. They possess great strength but also have hearts that can feel their children’s pain and joy. A mother is the most beautiful gift the Creator has given to humankind.

A mother sat beside her ailing child, her heart heavy with worry as she feared her little one might not survive. The infant, pale and frail, had shut its eyes tightly and was barely breathing. At times, the baby would let out weak, sorrowful cries, and each time, the mother leaned in closer, her heart aching. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. An elderly, poor man wrapped in a blanket often used to cover his horse entered. The cold outside was biting, and the blanket seemed warmer than any coat. Outside, the world was covered in snow, and the wind howled fiercely. The old man shivered, his teeth chattering in the freezing air. While the child slept fitfully, the mother lit the stove and prepared a cup of warm beer. The elderly man sat down beside the baby, softly singing a lullaby. The mother sat in a chair nearby, her eyes fixed on her weak child, still breathing faintly, as she raised a hand and whispered, "Is there anything we can do? The Lord surely wouldn't take my child, would He?" The old man, who was none other than Death Himself, shook his head cryptically. The mother lowered her head, tears streaming down her face. She hadn’t slept for three days and nights, and her head felt heavy with exhaustion. She drifted off to sleep for just a moment, but the cold woke her with a shiver. She looked around in a panic, only to find the old man and her child had disappeared. Death had taken her child. The ticking of the clock in the corner was the only sound left. With a heavy heart, the mother ran outside, calling her child’s name. Outside, an old woman dressed in black sat amidst the snow, telling the mother, "I saw Death enter your home. He took your child and ran faster than the wind. He never returns the lives he takes." The desperate mother begged, "Please, tell me where he went. Just point the way, and I will catch up to him." The old woman replied, "I know the way, but first you must sing for me. Sing all the lullabies you’ve sung to your child. I have heard many songs, and yours are the sweetest. I am the Goddess of Night; I have seen your tears when you sing." The mother, desperate, agreed, "I will sing them all, every last one, if only it will help me get my child back." But the Goddess remained silent. With tears flowing, the mother began to sing, her voice choked with sobs, her sorrow louder than the words of the lullabies. Once she finished, the Goddess spoke, "Turn right and head into the dark pine forest. I saw Death take your child there." Deep within the forest, at a crossroads, the mother hesitated. There was a thorn bush, leafless and covered in ice, hanging low with the weight of the cold. "Did Death pass through here with my child?" she asked. The thorn bush answered, "Yes, but if you want me to show you the way, you must warm me. I am frozen and on the verge of turning to ice." Without hesitation, the mother embraced the bush, warming it with her body. The thorns pierced her skin, drawing blood, but the bush responded by sprouting new leaves and blooming in the middle of the cold night, revived by the warmth of the mother's love. The bush then pointed her forward. She came to a vast lake, its surface frozen too thin to cross, and the water too deep to wade through. But she had to cross it to find her child. She knelt down to drink from the lake, despite knowing it was impossible for a human to do so, but she prayed that the Lord would grant her a miracle. The lake spoke, "No, you cannot do that! But let us strike a deal. I love pearls, and your eyes are like the purest pearls I have ever seen. Cry until your tears fall from your eyes, and I will carry you across the lake to where Death keeps his garden of flowers. Each flower here represents a life." With a sob, the mother cried, her tears flowing freely until her eyes themselves fell from her face, turning into two pearls that sank to the bottom of the lake. The lake lifted her gently, and in the blink of an eye, she was on the other side, standing before a magical greenhouse. She could not tell whether she stood before a mountain forest or a man-made structure. Her eyes, now pearls, could see nothing. She asked, "Where is Death? Where has he taken my child?" An old woman, guarding the greenhouse, answered, "Death has not yet arrived. How did you come here? Who helped you?" "It was the Lord," the mother replied. "He took pity on me. Please, have mercy and tell me where my child is." The old woman replied, "I don’t know what he looks like, and you cannot see anything. Many flowers have withered here overnight. Death will come soon to replant them. You must know that each person has a tree or flower that represents their life. These plants seem ordinary, but they all have hearts that beat. The hearts of children also beat. Perhaps you will recognize the heartbeat of your child. But if you want my help, you must offer me something in return." The grieving mother replied, "I have nothing left to give, but if I must, I will follow you to the ends of the Earth." "What do you think I need from you? You still have your beautiful hair. I like it very much, and I will trade you my gray hair for it." The mother agreed, "If that is all you ask, I will gladly give it to you." She handed the old woman her long, black hair in exchange for the old woman’s gray hair. Together, they entered the garden of Death. There, amidst a wild array of plants, the mother saw flowers and trees of all kinds. Some delicate flowers were in glass bell jars, while others, such as dahlias, stood strong and robust. Some grew in water, their leaves withered or healthy, entwined by water snakes. These were the palm trees and spices of the world, alongside fragrances of musk and sweet scents. Each plant, each flower, represented a life of someone in the world. The mother searched the garden, listening for the heartbeat of her child among thousands of flowers. At last, she found the faint, familiar rhythm beneath a small blue flower, its stem bent to one side. "Here it is!" she cried, reaching out to it. The old woman stopped her. "Don’t touch the flower. Stand back. Death will come soon. You must threaten to uproot all the plants here. Death will be afraid of your threat, for He is responsible to the Lord for all the plants in this garden. Without the Lord’s command, no one may pluck a flower." Just then, a cold wind blew through the garden. The mother felt the presence of Death. Death asked, "How did you find this place before me?" "I am a mother!" she replied. Death reached for the fragile flower, but the mother held onto it tightly, protecting it from harm. His cold breath caused her hands to feel numb. "You cannot stop me," Death warned. But the mother responded, "But the Lord can." Death replied, "I am merely following the Lord’s command. I tend to His garden here. The plants and flowers I take away will be replanted in the Heavenly Garden. I cannot tell you what happens there." The mother begged, "Please, give me back my child." She grabbed two nearby flowers and threatened, "If I must, I will uproot all the plants here." Death said, "Do not harm the flowers. You say you are in pain, but do you want to cause another mother pain?" "Another mother?" the mother asked, releasing the flowers. Death added, "These flowers represent two lives. One is your child’s, the other is someone else’s. I will not tell you which is which, but one of them will suffer terribly in life, while the other will live in joy. You will soon see for yourself." The mother cried, "Which is my child’s? Tell me! If their life will be filled with suffering, then take them away to Heaven! Please, forget my tears and my prayers!" She knelt down and begged, "Lord, do not listen to me if my request goes against Your will." With that, Death took the child to the distant land the mother had spoken of earlier. This story praises the profound sacrifice a mother is willing to make for her children. A mother will give up everything—her youth, her light, even her life—if it means saving her child. She will challenge even Death itself to protect her offspring. A mother’s strength is beyond what even the gods can comprehend.