The Shroud

{
  "cleanup_version": "v3",
  "cleanup_mode": "child_simplification",
  "source_file": "story.json",
  "source_v1_file": "story_v1.json",
  "source_sha256": "80520f1ce4808dcad6b84a5688e6ceb5ccd3ce566ad38014f86e850dd99f2f97",
  "source_v1_sha256": "871108621e6f836df226d3888975002b25c01882dc45a39e574cf6408714bbef",
  "source_title": "The Shroud",
  "tts_title": "The Shroud",
  "speech_safe_title": "The Shroud",
  "kind": "story",
  "canonical_url": "https://www.cs.cmu.edu/~spok/grimmtmp/084.txt",
  "slug": "the-shroud",
  "story_dirname": "084-the-shroud",
  "section_slug": null,
  "title": "The Shroud",
  "author": null,
  "publisher_label": null,
  "source_version": null,
  "content_type": null,
  "language": null,
  "summary": null,
  "clean_summary": null,
  "body": [
    "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared. But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth."
  ],
  "body_text": "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared. But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth.",
  "clean_body": [
    "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared. But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth."
  ],
  "clean_text": "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared. But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth.",
  "tts_chunks": [
    "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared.",
    "But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth."
  ],
  "speech_safe_body": [
    "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared. But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth."
  ],
  "speech_safe_text": "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared. But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth.",
  "speech_safe_chunks": [
    "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared.",
    "But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth."
  ],
  "theme_slugs": null,
  "listing_memberships": null,
  "reading_meta": null,
  "media": null,
  "asset_refs": null,
  "breadcrumbs": null,
  "scraped_at": "2026-05-08T18:04:33Z",
  "age_suitability": {
    "label": "Adult review",
    "min_age": 0,
    "content_flags": [],
    "reason": "The title 'The Shroud' is a common term for a burial cloth, but it is also frequently used in fiction to refer to a mysterious, often supernatural, covering or disguise. Without a summary, the content cannot be classified with certainty, so a conservative approach is required."
  },
  "pronunciation_notes": [],
  "llm_changes": [],
  "llm_flags": [
    "paragraph_skipped_no_llm_needed"
  ],
  "review_status": "needs_review",
  "stats": {
    "v1_paragraph_count": 1,
    "v2_paragraph_count": 1,
    "speech_safe_chunk_count": 2,
    "input_unit_type": "clean_body",
    "input_unit_count": 1,
    "paragraph_calls": 0,
    "subchunk_calls": 0,
    "paragraph_skipped_calls": 1,
    "paragraph_fallback_calls": 0,
    "v3_source_paragraph_count": 2,
    "v3_paragraph_count": 2,
    "v3_chunk_count": 2,
    "v3_paragraph_calls": 2
  },
  "source_v2_file": "story_v2.json",
  "source_v2_sha256": "9dc82bb449570350a466186cd0a70ef7aa5a0da23523c2829b6c6d7a2adf03b0",
  "source_v2_text_field": "speech_safe_chunks",
  "source_v2_paragraphs": [
    "There was once a mother who had a little boy of seven years old, who was so handsome and lovable that no one could look at him without liking him, and she herself worshipped him above everything in the world. Now it so happened that he suddenly became ill, and God took him to himself, and for this the mother could not be comforted and wept both day and night. But soon afterwards, when the child had been buried, it appeared by night in the places where it had sat and played during its life, and if the mother wept, it wept also, and when morning came it disappeared.",
    "But as the mother would not stop crying, it came one night, in the little white shroud in which it had been laid in its coffin, and with its wreath of flowers round its head, and stood on the bed at her feet, and said, \"Oh, mother, do stop crying, or I shall never fall asleep in my coffin, for my shroud will not dry because of all your tears, which fall upon it.\" The mother was afraid when she heard that, and wept no more. The next night the child came again, and held a little light in its hand, and said, \"Look, mother, my shroud is nearly dry, and I can rest in my grave.\" Then the mother gave her sorrow into God's keeping, and bore it quietly and patiently, and the child came no more, but slept in its little bed beneath the earth."
  ],
  "child_friendly_title": "The Shroud",
  "child_friendly_body": [
    "Once there was a kind mother who had a lovely little boy. He was seven years old and so sweet that everyone loved him. His mother loved him more than anything in the world. Then, sadly, he got very sick. He went to sleep forever, and his mother cried day and night because she missed him so much. But soon after he was buried, the little boy appeared at the places where he used to play. If his mother cried, he cried too. When the sun came up, he would quietly disappear.",
    "But the mother could not stop crying. One night, the little child came back. It was wearing its white shroud and a wreath of flowers. It stood by the mother’s bed and said, \"Oh, mother, please stop crying. I cannot sleep in my coffin. My shroud is still wet because of your tears.\" The mother was scared, so she stopped crying. The next night, the child came again. It held a little light and said, \"Look, mother. My shroud is dry now. I can rest in my grave.\" The mother gave her sad feelings to God. She was quiet and brave. The child did not come back, but it slept in its little bed under the earth."
  ],
  "child_friendly_text": "Once there was a kind mother who had a lovely little boy. He was seven years old and so sweet that everyone loved him. His mother loved him more than anything in the world. Then, sadly, he got very sick. He went to sleep forever, and his mother cried day and night because she missed him so much. But soon after he was buried, the little boy appeared at the places where he used to play. If his mother cried, he cried too. When the sun came up, he would quietly disappear.\n\nBut the mother could not stop crying. One night, the little child came back. It was wearing its white shroud and a wreath of flowers. It stood by the mother’s bed and said, \"Oh, mother, please stop crying. I cannot sleep in my coffin. My shroud is still wet because of your tears.\" The mother was scared, so she stopped crying. The next night, the child came again. It held a little light and said, \"Look, mother. My shroud is dry now. I can rest in my grave.\" The mother gave her sad feelings to God. She was quiet and brave. The child did not come back, but it slept in its little bed under the earth.",
  "child_friendly_chunks": [
    "Once there was a kind mother who had a lovely little boy. He was seven years old and so sweet that everyone loved him. His mother loved him more than anything in the world. Then, sadly, he got very sick. He went to sleep forever, and his mother cried day and night because she missed him so much. But soon after he was buried, the little boy appeared at the places where he used to play. If his mother cried, he cried too. When the sun came up, he would quietly disappear.",
    "But the mother could not stop crying. One night, the little child came back. It was wearing its white shroud and a wreath of flowers. It stood by the mother’s bed and said, \"Oh, mother, please stop crying. I cannot sleep in my coffin. My shroud is still wet because of your tears.\" The mother was scared, so she stopped crying. The next night, the child came again. It held a little light and said, \"Look, mother. My shroud is dry now. I can rest in my grave.\" The mother gave her sad feelings to God. She was quiet and brave. The child did not come back, but it slept in its little bed under the earth."
  ],
  "v3_model": "glm-4.7-flash:q4_K_M",
  "v3_flags": []
}