Welcome to my portfolio! This is a compilation of stories that I have written over the course of my semester in Mythology and Folklore, based on various reading units of lore from around the world. Take a look around and enjoy!
Showing posts with label Portfolio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Portfolio. Show all posts
Friday, November 28, 2014
Friday, November 14, 2014
Week 12 Storytelling: The Pig and the Fence
Dear Diary,
The walk was pleasant to begin with: we talked about the changing of the seasons and how she was getting her home ready for the winter. She told me that as she was cleaning, she found a sixpence and decided to go to the market and rescue a pig - me. That was considerate of her. She seemed unassuming enough, if not a bit too talkative.
About this time, though, we got to a very large fenced off area. I struggled and struggled, but it was too high for me to jump over. After a while, the woman got really frustrated at me, climbed over, and continued walking. I thought she was just going to abandon me there.
I stood there in confusion for several minutes, and after that, I began to panic. So much for being rescued; now I was stuck in the middle of nowhere all by myself. My thoughts began to race and I suddenly became paranoid of my surroundings. I began to wander around the fence, but the area seemed to stretch on forever. Finally, I just gave up and went back to my original spot.
I don't know how much longer I stood there, but eventually I heard the old woman's voice. Overjoyed and relieved, I started squealing in delight. As she drew closer, I saw that she had come back with an entourage of animals. I was surprised to see so many new friends, but I was so glad to be saved that I didn't pay much attention to this fact.
I watched from a distance as the old woman gave a cow some hay. After this, as they walked closer, I realized that this started a chain reaction in a flurry of activity. No, that was an understatement--it was mass chaos. The cow gave a cat some milk, and the cat drank the milk and pounced on a mouse, who was chewing on a rope, which started to hang a man who looked like a butcher. The butcher began to do his job and killed an ox, and as he was doing this, the ox drank some water, which began to put out a fire, but not before its flames engulfed a stick. This stick began to hit the leader of this pack, a dog, who then came charging at me and bit me!
So after that odd and terrifying series of events, before my mind could even comprehend what was happening, I finally launched myself over the fence in fear, and the woman and I walked home in silence. Now I'm in her home, living in terror of her after seeing what lengths she would go to just to get me to do a simple task.
The pig caught behind the fence. Source: Wikimedia Commons.
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-----
Author's note: This week, I retold the story of The Old Woman and Her Pig from the English Fairy Tales (1) unit. This is a cumulative story, where a series of events happens, and with each new event, the story escalates. In this case, a woman brings a pig home from a market and they reach a stile over which the pig cannot jump. In order to get the pig over the fence, she walks further and encounters a dog, stick, fire, water, ox, butcher, rope, rat, and cat, telling each of them to do something, but they refuse unless something else affects them first. Finally, she meets a cow and gives it hay, and the cow gives the cat milk and sets off a chain reaction ending in the dog biting the pig and ultimately getting him over the stile. This reminded me of a very extreme Rube Goldberg machine, in which a lot of energy is expended to perform a simple task (and certainly, a lot of deaths had to occur in this situation just to get the pig over the fence).
Although this one was somewhat morbid, I usually like cumulative stories because of their ridiculousness. I chose to retell this story because it had the setup of a nursery rhyme, which gave me ample opportunity to elaborate on details and provide background. I wanted to show it from the pig's perspective, because I imagine the entire situation would have been quite terrifying for him. This gave me some trouble because the pig would not have been able to see all that happened when the woman ventured on because he was trapped behind the fence, but I decided to remedy this by bringing all of the creatures back to him so he could see the chain reaction.
Bibliography:
"The Old Woman and Her Pig."
Joseph Jacobs, 1890.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Week 10 Storytelling: Rabbit's Revenge
There he goes again, that Possum. Always prancing around, showing off how long and fluffy his tail is. Oh, I see that it's already covered in ribbons--it looks like Cricket has already gotten to him. The tail is beautiful now, yes, but just you wait, Possum. Just you wait.
Let me back up--my name is Rabbit. I once had a tail that was just as bushy and extraordinary as Possum's. That is, I did until that mean old Bear pulled it out. Oh, you didn't know that rabbits used to have tails as long as any other? Yes, it's a little known fact: my tail used to put Squirrel's to shame. One day, though, I got back from a meeting with Otter and all the other animals were angry at me for some reason! I felt ostracized and tried to run away, but as I was doing so, Bear grabbed at my tail and pulled it out. So now all I have is this fluffy little stub that saddens me every time I look at it.
Now, every time Possum goes waving his backside in my face, I just get so angry. Maybe I am a little jealous, but if I have to hear how handsome his tail is one more time, I think I'm going to scream. Just the other day, he asked me about the upcoming dance for all the animals. He had the audacity to say that he should sit at a place of honor at the table during dinner, simply because his "tail is so pretty" and he "wanted everyone to be able to see it." I mean, if that's not conceited, I don't know what is.
So that day, after I talked to that stuck-up Possum, I wanted to teach him a lesson. I went to see my good friend, Cricket. Cricket is the local groomer, and he's good at what he does. I told him to go to Possum's house on the day of the dance and cut off all of the fur on his tail.
"Cricket, I can't take this anymore," I had said to him wearily.
"Whatever do you mean, Rabbit?"
"I'm talking about Possum. I get so frustrated whenever he walks by. He's always bragging about his tail, and I don't want to hear it. Part of me gets jealous and it makes me miss my own tail, and part of me is just angry at how narcissistic he is. Is there anything you can do to make him stop?"
"Well.... I don't know."
"Please? You couldn't, maybe, I don't know... cut off all his hair or something?"
"I don't know, Rabbit. Doesn't that seem a little conniving to you?"
"Maybe a bit, but I can't deal with all of Possum's gloating anymore!"
"Well.... okay. For you, Rabbit."
The dance is tonight, so I think Possum will be headed over soon. I can't wait to see the smug look wiped off of his face when he discovers that his tail is bare. Maybe that will teach him for being so stuck-up and prideful.
-----
Author's note: This week, I retold the story of Why Possum's Tail is Bare. In the Cherokee folklore unit prior to this story, Rabbit has a run-in with Otter up the river and steals his coat. When Rabbit returns to the other animals, they hear about what had happened and want to reprimand Rabbit. Rabbit tries to run away, but Bear steps on his tail and rips it out.
Now without his own tail, Rabbit becomes jealous of Possum's beautiful, bushy tail. Rabbit is frustrated at the constant flaunting and bragging, and decides to teach Possum a lesson. Rabbit hires Cricket, who is known as the barber of the community, to cut off all the hair on Possum's tail under the guise that he is grooming him for his big appearance at an upcoming dance. When Possum prances around later that day, he is met with laughter and embarrassment due to the loss of his fur.
I wanted to tell this story from Rabbit's perspective because the original portrays him in a malicious light. It is true that he let jealousy get the best of him and he did do some ugly things for revenge, but Possum was also wrong in being so prideful. Because both parties could have acted more graciously, I felt that Rabbit's perspective should be told as well.
Bibliography:
Myths of the Cherokee.
James Mooney (1900).
Web Source: Project Gutenberg.
Let me back up--my name is Rabbit. I once had a tail that was just as bushy and extraordinary as Possum's. That is, I did until that mean old Bear pulled it out. Oh, you didn't know that rabbits used to have tails as long as any other? Yes, it's a little known fact: my tail used to put Squirrel's to shame. One day, though, I got back from a meeting with Otter and all the other animals were angry at me for some reason! I felt ostracized and tried to run away, but as I was doing so, Bear grabbed at my tail and pulled it out. So now all I have is this fluffy little stub that saddens me every time I look at it.
Rabbit, after he lost his tail. Source: Wikipedia.
So that day, after I talked to that stuck-up Possum, I wanted to teach him a lesson. I went to see my good friend, Cricket. Cricket is the local groomer, and he's good at what he does. I told him to go to Possum's house on the day of the dance and cut off all of the fur on his tail.
"Cricket, I can't take this anymore," I had said to him wearily.
"Whatever do you mean, Rabbit?"
"I'm talking about Possum. I get so frustrated whenever he walks by. He's always bragging about his tail, and I don't want to hear it. Part of me gets jealous and it makes me miss my own tail, and part of me is just angry at how narcissistic he is. Is there anything you can do to make him stop?"
"Well.... I don't know."
"Please? You couldn't, maybe, I don't know... cut off all his hair or something?"
"I don't know, Rabbit. Doesn't that seem a little conniving to you?"
"Maybe a bit, but I can't deal with all of Possum's gloating anymore!"
"Well.... okay. For you, Rabbit."
The dance is tonight, so I think Possum will be headed over soon. I can't wait to see the smug look wiped off of his face when he discovers that his tail is bare. Maybe that will teach him for being so stuck-up and prideful.
-----
Author's note: This week, I retold the story of Why Possum's Tail is Bare. In the Cherokee folklore unit prior to this story, Rabbit has a run-in with Otter up the river and steals his coat. When Rabbit returns to the other animals, they hear about what had happened and want to reprimand Rabbit. Rabbit tries to run away, but Bear steps on his tail and rips it out.
Now without his own tail, Rabbit becomes jealous of Possum's beautiful, bushy tail. Rabbit is frustrated at the constant flaunting and bragging, and decides to teach Possum a lesson. Rabbit hires Cricket, who is known as the barber of the community, to cut off all the hair on Possum's tail under the guise that he is grooming him for his big appearance at an upcoming dance. When Possum prances around later that day, he is met with laughter and embarrassment due to the loss of his fur.
I wanted to tell this story from Rabbit's perspective because the original portrays him in a malicious light. It is true that he let jealousy get the best of him and he did do some ugly things for revenge, but Possum was also wrong in being so prideful. Because both parties could have acted more graciously, I felt that Rabbit's perspective should be told as well.
Bibliography:
Myths of the Cherokee.
James Mooney (1900).
Web Source: Project Gutenberg.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Week 6 Storytelling: The Monkey King
Well, hello there! Oh, I'm sorry--I didn't mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget that not many people are accustomed to having a rock spontaneously start talking to them. Well, that's right, I am a living, breathing boulder and I am here to tell you about the most fascinating thing that has ever happened to me.
It was long ago, when the world was still young and I was but a small stone. I found myself at the top of this wonderful mountain that we are standing on. I have always felt blessed to be surrounded by such beautiful flowers and fragrant fruits, but what I am most thankful for is the proximity to the heavens while also being in contact with the earth. I have had access to all the worldly and supernatural powers because of this closeness (these are what gave me the power to speak, you see). So, I knew I had abilities that my peers did not, but I didn't know that I could give rise to new beings. One day, I was surprised when I felt a low rumbling in my core, then suddenly, I burst open and a perfectly smooth, round stone came out. At first, I thought this was just an effect of erosion, but as the days passed, I came to realize that it was an egg. As I scrutinized the stone over the next few days, it shuddered periodically for a while, and finally, a stone monkey hatched from it.
I watched this monkey grow up through the years. Oh, nostalgia--I can still remember when he was just starting to learn to run and jump as a young chimp, such a far cry from his extensive abilities today. He grew to be the strongest and most agile being I had ever seen (a feat of which I was very jealous for a while, as all I can do is sit here and watch). He spent his days in rambunctious contentment and the world was his playground. His curiosity was endlessly insatiable, and he would constantly get in trouble--but no one could ever stay mad at him for long because he was so clever and charming.
I remember one exciting day in particular. The young monkey and his friends had been playing near a waterfall, but they had gotten too close and realized that they could get seriously injured if they weren't careful. They reconvened on the side of the mountain where I sat and discussed what they would do. "We are due for a king," they said. "Whoever can pass under the waterfall without getting hurt should be our new leader." Immediately, our stone hero volunteered. So the monkeys headed towards the waterfall again.
When they came back, they were buzzing with excitement about their adventure. As they discussed what had just happened, I learned that the stone monkey had indeed crossed through the waterfall (I was not at all surprised), and he had discovered an ancient chamber with stone treasures. The other apes, awed, now had to keep their promise and made him their ruler, calling him Handsome King of the Apes.
So he remained for three peaceful centuries, ruling firmly but justly, our wise leader.
-----
Author's note: This week, I read the story of Sun Wu Kong, the Monkey King. I felt like the introduction to this unit provided a good explanation of the king's unusual origins and personality. I retold the story from the point of view of the stone from which the monkey sprung because, although unorthodox, it would offer some unique insight into the thoughts of an outsider who was still involved in the situation. It was at first difficult to continue the story when the monkeys went back to the waterfall because, from the point of view of the boulder, who could not move, he could not see the adventures firsthand and could only know what happened through the monkeys. However, I tried to summarize the events as best as I could.
I wanted to take a tone of reverence throughout the rock's account. Sun Wu Kong (a name which he gets later on in his adventures), although boisterous and prideful, sometimes to the point of being conceited, is shown as a respectable ruler. Because of this, I wanted to convey an air of being a "proud parent" from the point of view of the boulder.
Bibliography:
"The Ape Sun Wu Kong" from the Chinese Fairy Book.
Edited by R. Wilhelm and translated by Frederick H. Martens (1921).
Source: Project Gutenberg.
It was long ago, when the world was still young and I was but a small stone. I found myself at the top of this wonderful mountain that we are standing on. I have always felt blessed to be surrounded by such beautiful flowers and fragrant fruits, but what I am most thankful for is the proximity to the heavens while also being in contact with the earth. I have had access to all the worldly and supernatural powers because of this closeness (these are what gave me the power to speak, you see). So, I knew I had abilities that my peers did not, but I didn't know that I could give rise to new beings. One day, I was surprised when I felt a low rumbling in my core, then suddenly, I burst open and a perfectly smooth, round stone came out. At first, I thought this was just an effect of erosion, but as the days passed, I came to realize that it was an egg. As I scrutinized the stone over the next few days, it shuddered periodically for a while, and finally, a stone monkey hatched from it.
I watched this monkey grow up through the years. Oh, nostalgia--I can still remember when he was just starting to learn to run and jump as a young chimp, such a far cry from his extensive abilities today. He grew to be the strongest and most agile being I had ever seen (a feat of which I was very jealous for a while, as all I can do is sit here and watch). He spent his days in rambunctious contentment and the world was his playground. His curiosity was endlessly insatiable, and he would constantly get in trouble--but no one could ever stay mad at him for long because he was so clever and charming.
I remember one exciting day in particular. The young monkey and his friends had been playing near a waterfall, but they had gotten too close and realized that they could get seriously injured if they weren't careful. They reconvened on the side of the mountain where I sat and discussed what they would do. "We are due for a king," they said. "Whoever can pass under the waterfall without getting hurt should be our new leader." Immediately, our stone hero volunteered. So the monkeys headed towards the waterfall again.
When they came back, they were buzzing with excitement about their adventure. As they discussed what had just happened, I learned that the stone monkey had indeed crossed through the waterfall (I was not at all surprised), and he had discovered an ancient chamber with stone treasures. The other apes, awed, now had to keep their promise and made him their ruler, calling him Handsome King of the Apes.
So he remained for three peaceful centuries, ruling firmly but justly, our wise leader.
The Monkey King at the waterfall. Source: China on Site.
-----
Author's note: This week, I read the story of Sun Wu Kong, the Monkey King. I felt like the introduction to this unit provided a good explanation of the king's unusual origins and personality. I retold the story from the point of view of the stone from which the monkey sprung because, although unorthodox, it would offer some unique insight into the thoughts of an outsider who was still involved in the situation. It was at first difficult to continue the story when the monkeys went back to the waterfall because, from the point of view of the boulder, who could not move, he could not see the adventures firsthand and could only know what happened through the monkeys. However, I tried to summarize the events as best as I could.
I wanted to take a tone of reverence throughout the rock's account. Sun Wu Kong (a name which he gets later on in his adventures), although boisterous and prideful, sometimes to the point of being conceited, is shown as a respectable ruler. Because of this, I wanted to convey an air of being a "proud parent" from the point of view of the boulder.
Bibliography:
"The Ape Sun Wu Kong" from the Chinese Fairy Book.
Edited by R. Wilhelm and translated by Frederick H. Martens (1921).
Source: Project Gutenberg.
Monday, October 6, 2014
Week 7 Storytelling: The Cat's Reflection
One fine summer day, a mischievous tomcat was strolling along a country lane. He had been enjoying his day off from antagonizing the mice in the barn where he lived and had decided to go for a walk in the fresh air.
As it was midday, all of the local animals were out running errands and enjoying the weather, the first uncharacteristically mild day of the season. As the tomcat walked by, he greeted each of them enthusiastically. He was an indoor, nocturnal cat, and it had been a while since he had experienced this flurry of activity during the day, and he had missed all of the hustle and bustle of his friends and neighbors.
After a while, he had walked the length of the road, but because it was such a nice day, he decided to continue exploring. He had never gone this far away from his barn before. Stepping off of the road and onto a patchy, grassy area, he felt the exhilaration of the unknown. As the cat realized his freedom, he pranced through the tall weeds, going in any direction his paws would take him. His senses were overtaken by the experience: he could see every fine detail on each blade of the tall grass, and he could smell the fresh scent of the warm summer air.
After a while of frolicking through the field, the cat saw an opening in some reeds up ahead. As he approached it, he heard a soothing noise unlike anything he had ever heard before. He walked up to the clearing and saw a small stream of rushing water. As he had never seen such a thing before, he was perplexed. However, he was determined to make the most of his day off. He said to himself, "I've come this far already. I might as well check this out."
He walked up to the stream and looked down. There, staring back at him, was a friendly face--that of another cat. Excitedly, he introduced himself. He was startled when the cat mimicked his words exactly, but brushed it off. "What a beautiful day, huh?" he continued joyfully.
The cat in the water continued to copy him. Now becoming confused, he asked, "How did you know what I was going to say?" Still the other cat mocked him, this time with a puzzled look on his face. The tomcat realized that this mysterious cat was even mimicking his facial expressions. "Stop taunting me!" he said, now annoyed at the other cat's rudeness. But it would not stop, instead continuing to annoy the poor cat. At this point, the anger on the water-feline's face was enough to be alarming to the tomcat. Now both frustrated and scared, he reached out his paw and tried to attack the other cat, and was startled when it mirrored his actions. Frightened and disturbed, he jumped up so as not to be attacked himself. This sudden movement caused him to slip off of the bank and plunge headfirst into the water. Too late did the cat realize that he was merely talking to his reflection in the clear water, and he bemoaned his ignorance and impatience.
----
Author's note: This is a loose retelling of the story of The Wonderful Tar-Baby from the Brer Rabbit unit. In the original, Brer Rabbit comes across a doll made of sticky tar, placed by one of his trickster friends, Brer Fox, as a form of revenge. As Mr. Rabbit tries to talk to the doll, it obviously doesn't respond, and he gets easily frustrated at the being. He begins to violently beat the doll, but only manages to get stuck in it.
In my story, I maintained a similar theme but changed the characters and removed the trickster: here, the only antagonist is the cat's own thoughts. In this case, instead of not responding whatsoever, the cat's reflection does a similarly impolite thing in mimicking the cat, which the cat interprets as mocking. The ultimate moral is the same as that of the original story, though: be patient and understand the entirety of the situation before acting rashly. The last line is intended to show the cat's regret, but that he has learned his lesson. The reader can only hope that he can survive in order to apply what he has learned in the future (I will try to incorporate a scene in which the cat is rescued so as not to make the ending so morbid).
Bibliography:
"The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story"
Uncle Remus: His Songs and Sayings
Joel Chandler Harris, 1881.
As it was midday, all of the local animals were out running errands and enjoying the weather, the first uncharacteristically mild day of the season. As the tomcat walked by, he greeted each of them enthusiastically. He was an indoor, nocturnal cat, and it had been a while since he had experienced this flurry of activity during the day, and he had missed all of the hustle and bustle of his friends and neighbors.
After a while, he had walked the length of the road, but because it was such a nice day, he decided to continue exploring. He had never gone this far away from his barn before. Stepping off of the road and onto a patchy, grassy area, he felt the exhilaration of the unknown. As the cat realized his freedom, he pranced through the tall weeds, going in any direction his paws would take him. His senses were overtaken by the experience: he could see every fine detail on each blade of the tall grass, and he could smell the fresh scent of the warm summer air.
After a while of frolicking through the field, the cat saw an opening in some reeds up ahead. As he approached it, he heard a soothing noise unlike anything he had ever heard before. He walked up to the clearing and saw a small stream of rushing water. As he had never seen such a thing before, he was perplexed. However, he was determined to make the most of his day off. He said to himself, "I've come this far already. I might as well check this out."
He walked up to the stream and looked down. There, staring back at him, was a friendly face--that of another cat. Excitedly, he introduced himself. He was startled when the cat mimicked his words exactly, but brushed it off. "What a beautiful day, huh?" he continued joyfully.
The cat in the water continued to copy him. Now becoming confused, he asked, "How did you know what I was going to say?" Still the other cat mocked him, this time with a puzzled look on his face. The tomcat realized that this mysterious cat was even mimicking his facial expressions. "Stop taunting me!" he said, now annoyed at the other cat's rudeness. But it would not stop, instead continuing to annoy the poor cat. At this point, the anger on the water-feline's face was enough to be alarming to the tomcat. Now both frustrated and scared, he reached out his paw and tried to attack the other cat, and was startled when it mirrored his actions. Frightened and disturbed, he jumped up so as not to be attacked himself. This sudden movement caused him to slip off of the bank and plunge headfirst into the water. Too late did the cat realize that he was merely talking to his reflection in the clear water, and he bemoaned his ignorance and impatience.
The cat at the riverbank. Source: Wikimedia Commons.
----
Author's note: This is a loose retelling of the story of The Wonderful Tar-Baby from the Brer Rabbit unit. In the original, Brer Rabbit comes across a doll made of sticky tar, placed by one of his trickster friends, Brer Fox, as a form of revenge. As Mr. Rabbit tries to talk to the doll, it obviously doesn't respond, and he gets easily frustrated at the being. He begins to violently beat the doll, but only manages to get stuck in it.
In my story, I maintained a similar theme but changed the characters and removed the trickster: here, the only antagonist is the cat's own thoughts. In this case, instead of not responding whatsoever, the cat's reflection does a similarly impolite thing in mimicking the cat, which the cat interprets as mocking. The ultimate moral is the same as that of the original story, though: be patient and understand the entirety of the situation before acting rashly. The last line is intended to show the cat's regret, but that he has learned his lesson. The reader can only hope that he can survive in order to apply what he has learned in the future (I will try to incorporate a scene in which the cat is rescued so as not to make the ending so morbid).
Bibliography:
"The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story"
Uncle Remus: His Songs and Sayings
Joel Chandler Harris, 1881.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Week 5 Storytelling: The Genie's Lament
A sudden rattling woke me from my deep slumber. The walls that entrapped me began to shake violently, and I could feel the vessel that I was in begin to be pulled upwards by a strong force. After a while of this, a bright white light flooded my eyes. I was shocked at first, but then I realized that I had more room to spread out for the first time in centuries. Seizing my opportunity, I exploded out of the vase that had held me captive for so long.
I should probably introduce myself at this point. I am a lowly genie who made a critical mistake about three hundred years ago: I disobeyed the king of the genii. I was young and immature, and I didn't know any better. However, he decided to punish me by sealing me into a vase and enchanting it so that I would be trapped until someone freed me. Each day was torture as I did not know how long it would be until I saw my family again, how long I would be cooped up. I held out hope though--I told myself that if anyone freed me before the first century was over, I would bless him and his family with riches beyond belief. I was still faithful that I would be rescued during my second century of captivity. But after that passed and still nobody had released me, I vowed that I would immediately kill the person who set me free.
When I had escaped the vase completely and taken my true form, I examined my surroundings. Looking down, I saw a feeble fisherman. So, this was my savior, I guess. I scrutinized him, taking in his dirty, ragged clothes and his emaciated appearance. He didn't look like he'd put up much of a fight. He spoke to me as if he were expecting a reward; bitterly, I demanded that he show me more respect before I killed him.
This certainly caught him off guard. He hastily asked, "Why must you kill me?"
Wearily, I explained my entire story. I told him of my former king and his unjust punishment, and the thoughts that raced through my head during the entirety of my imprisonment. The fisherman just looked at me incredulously throughout my account. "But you are so large!" he said. "How did you fit into that tiny vase?"
My pride took over here, and I wanted to show this lowly human my powers. I turned myself into wisps of smoke and fitted myself easily once again inside the vase. Suddenly, I heard a loud clank. I looked up and realized that the man had replaced the lid, closing me in again. No matter how hard I tried, I could not push past the enchantment.
I cried out of frustration: how could I have been so stupid? Oh well. I guess I'll just have to wait for another liberator to come along. Maybe this time I'll be a little more reasonable.
-----
Author's note: I chose to retell the Story of the Fisherman from the Arabian Nights unit. In this account, I stuck to the original fairly closely, except for the fact that I changed the point of view from third-person omniscient to that of the genie. This story jumped out at me because of the fisherman's cunning, and I also wanted to tell it from the perspective of the bitter genie so that the reader could get more insight into his feelings. In the original story, the genie is shown as a wholly harsh, unfeeling being with no reason or logic behind his actions, and I wanted to change that a little and give him at least an inkling of compassion. I tried to do this by injecting a bit of remorse at the end when he is captured again. Of course, this story continues as the fisherman teaches the genie a lesson through another tale in this frametale, but I had to find a way to end this particular account.
Bibliography:
The Arabian Nights' Entertainments
Andrew Lang, illustrated by H.J. Ford
(1898)
Source: Project Gutenberg
I should probably introduce myself at this point. I am a lowly genie who made a critical mistake about three hundred years ago: I disobeyed the king of the genii. I was young and immature, and I didn't know any better. However, he decided to punish me by sealing me into a vase and enchanting it so that I would be trapped until someone freed me. Each day was torture as I did not know how long it would be until I saw my family again, how long I would be cooped up. I held out hope though--I told myself that if anyone freed me before the first century was over, I would bless him and his family with riches beyond belief. I was still faithful that I would be rescued during my second century of captivity. But after that passed and still nobody had released me, I vowed that I would immediately kill the person who set me free.
The vase that held me captive. Source: deviantArt.
When I had escaped the vase completely and taken my true form, I examined my surroundings. Looking down, I saw a feeble fisherman. So, this was my savior, I guess. I scrutinized him, taking in his dirty, ragged clothes and his emaciated appearance. He didn't look like he'd put up much of a fight. He spoke to me as if he were expecting a reward; bitterly, I demanded that he show me more respect before I killed him.
This certainly caught him off guard. He hastily asked, "Why must you kill me?"
Wearily, I explained my entire story. I told him of my former king and his unjust punishment, and the thoughts that raced through my head during the entirety of my imprisonment. The fisherman just looked at me incredulously throughout my account. "But you are so large!" he said. "How did you fit into that tiny vase?"
My pride took over here, and I wanted to show this lowly human my powers. I turned myself into wisps of smoke and fitted myself easily once again inside the vase. Suddenly, I heard a loud clank. I looked up and realized that the man had replaced the lid, closing me in again. No matter how hard I tried, I could not push past the enchantment.
I cried out of frustration: how could I have been so stupid? Oh well. I guess I'll just have to wait for another liberator to come along. Maybe this time I'll be a little more reasonable.
-----
Author's note: I chose to retell the Story of the Fisherman from the Arabian Nights unit. In this account, I stuck to the original fairly closely, except for the fact that I changed the point of view from third-person omniscient to that of the genie. This story jumped out at me because of the fisherman's cunning, and I also wanted to tell it from the perspective of the bitter genie so that the reader could get more insight into his feelings. In the original story, the genie is shown as a wholly harsh, unfeeling being with no reason or logic behind his actions, and I wanted to change that a little and give him at least an inkling of compassion. I tried to do this by injecting a bit of remorse at the end when he is captured again. Of course, this story continues as the fisherman teaches the genie a lesson through another tale in this frametale, but I had to find a way to end this particular account.
Bibliography:
The Arabian Nights' Entertainments
Andrew Lang, illustrated by H.J. Ford
(1898)
Source: Project Gutenberg
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