Week 12 Storytelling: The Pig and the Fence

Dear Diary,

Today was probably the most terrifying day of my life. I was bought from the market this morning by a little old lady, and she was the sweetest thing! That is, until we started walking home. That was when things started to get scary.

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."

English Fairy Tales.

Joseph Jacobs, 1890.

Week 13 Storytelling: House of Thieves

I have seen too many women come into this dark place, never to leave again. They waltzed in naively, expecting to see their "one true love" (or so the story goes), ignoring all the warning signs. I didn't understand it, personally--this hovel is in the deepest thicket of a forest filled with dangers; I am baffled as to why the maidens don't turn around and go home immediately after seeing it.

This used to be a den of evil. The men who lived here were thieves and murderers. They went out into the world under charming guises and sought out pretty young ladies with whom to be betrothed. After that, the robbers lured the maidens back to this place, overtook them, and cooked and ate them.

As for me, I am but an old woman. I wandered into this place years ago with no other place to go after some hardships in my life. When the men saw me, they scoffed. I had heard of their reputation, but I placated them, saying I would keep their secret if they would let me stay with them. And so it had been for several years.

One day, a fair maiden--prettier than all the rest--came by this place. I had watched as she made her way down the winding path, looking wholly uneasy the entire way. As she walked, she left a trail of beans and lentils. When she made her way into the shack, my trusty pet bird called out a warning to her: turn back; this is a place of evil. She was visibly shaken, but continued to explore the rooms. Luckily, the men had gone into town for the day, so she was not seen by anyone.

She made her way throughout the house and finally reached the room where I was sitting. When I saw her full fairness and grace, I took pity on her and told her of the dangers of this place. As I was doing this, we heard the thieves barge through the door, hollering with excitement with what I was sure was another helpless maiden. I instructed the lost bride to hide behind a large pot until she could get the chance to escape.

What happened next must have been traumatizing for anyone watching: the men overpowered their victim and cut her into pieces. She had a ring on her little finger, and the thieves tried to remove it to no avail. After a while, they gave up and simply cut the finger off. It flew right into the poor maiden's lap behind the pot, and as I looked over, she was frozen in shock and I realized that she had seen the entire thing.

The thieves with the maidens in the den. 

Illustrator: Helen Stratton. 1903. Source.

The drunkards seemed to lose interest in the finger, and shortly after their merriment were passed out. The young bride-to-be took her opportunity and bolted out of the den, taking the finger with her.

A few days later, some officials came to the door and arrested all of the men in this band of thieves. Apparently, at her wedding toast, the cunning bride revealed the robbers' secret and proved it with the finger. The men were all condemned for their actions and executed.

Looking back at this place now, I remember all of the horrors that took place in this kitchen, and am thankful that I never have to witness such things again.

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Author's note: This week, I retold the story of the Robber Bridegroom. The original story is in the third person omniscient, but I wanted to tell it from the point of view of the old woman who helps the maiden. Not much background is given about her, so it was fun to develop her character and explain where she comes from.

The plot of my retelling is very closely related to that of the original. I changed a few details in the behavior of the old woman as she helps the young woman. In the original story, the robbers want to find the finger with the ring after it is chopped off and lands in the girl's lap, but the old woman deters them from doing so, calling them to dinner and saying that "the finger cannot run away." She also slips a sleeping draught into their wine so that they will pass out and so the girl can escape. In my story, I left out these details and just attributed the girl's safety to the men's carelessness and drunkenness. As I was reading this story, I did not understand why the old woman would go to such lengths to rescue this particular girl when she had previously seen so many deaths. I tried to explain her pity in my story, but I didn't think she would take many more measures to prevent the girl's death than simply telling her to hide. I didn't want to portray her as totally heartless, however--even though she might have been systematically desensitized to the idea of death throughout the years, there is still residual trauma as she goes back to the place where she used to live and reflects on the terrible things that had happened there.

Bibliography:
The Robber Bridegroom.
Household Stories by the Brothers Grimm.
Jacob Grimm and Wilhelm Grimm.
Translated by Lucy Crane.
Illustrated by Walter Crane.
1886.

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.

Rabbit, after he lost his tail. Source: Wikipedia.

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.

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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.

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.

The Monkey King at the waterfall. Source: China on Site.

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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.

Week 9 Storytelling: Creation

Life under the sea is all I have ever known.  It may seem boring, but I am content--I love to explore the depths with my friends. I have fond memories from when we were young crawfish of taking turns diving and seeing who could touch the ocean floor first.

For as long as I can remember, I have been friends with the Creator. Maybe the immediate attachment was because there weren't many other creatures with which to socialize, or just because I have always been intrigued by the being that He is and want to get to know him better. Either way, I've developed a close relationship with Him.

One day, during the early days of the Earth, He asked me for a favor. He requested that I dig up some earth from the bottom of the ocean so that He could have land upon which to set His new creation, Man. Of course, I was honored and agreed. For the next few days, I used the diving skills that I had acquired in my youth to reach the sea floor and pinch some mud between my claws. When I brought this mud up, I was surprised to see that it automatically spread out, creating vast amounts of dry land. 'This Creator really is something,' I thought to myself in awe.

This land came to be known as Natchez, and the Creator's next step was to bring Man into existence in this area. At first, I was frustrated by the naivete and unruliness of these beings--they did not heed the warnings that the Creator gave them, and therefore caused Him much grief. To solve this problem, the Creator sent down a substance that would calm the humans and make them less rambunctious.

I continued observing through the ages as He taught Man how to survive in the bitter wilderness with the help of Woman and other animals He created. Gradually, I was happy to see that they began to show the respect and honor to the Creator that He deserved. The tribe lived happily for many years.

Crawfish on land, observing Man's interactions. Source: LA Tech.

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Author's note: This week, I retold the story of Creation from the Chitimacha people of Louisiana. This story detailed the order of events in the creation of the Earth from the perspective of the Chitimacha: at first, the sea and fish were created, then the Great Mystery sent down humans after Crawfish dug up some dry land. Afterwards, the humans had to learn how to fend for themselves, and the Creator graciously teaches them through the wise words of their animal companions.

As I was reading the original story, I got the feeling that the humans did not respect the Creator very much at first, and I wanted to show a tone of reverence throughout. I told this story from the perspective of the Crawfish because he was one of the first things ever made, and therefore feels honored to be in the presence of the Creator. It is because of this, then, that he feels frustrated when the humans are disrespectful when they first come to Earth, and that he feels relieved and glad when they eventually learn that they would not be able to survive without Him.

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.

The cat at the riverbank. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

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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.

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.

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.

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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

Week 4 Storytelling: The General's Wife

"What a day," I said wearily to my page.

"What happened to you today? You look defeated," he asked, worried.

"I saw the most beautiful woman in the world today," I explained, "she was so stunning that I fainted. When I came to, I found out that she was Passion, whose hand in marriage I rejected a few months back. I can't stop thinking about her. I can't believe I let her go."

Let me backtrack and explain myself. My name is King Glorious (interesting name, I know--I used to get teased about it all the time, and I can only hope to live up to it) and I preside over the lovely Golden City. A few months ago, one of my best merchants approached me and told me that his daughter was old enough to get married and he begged me to marry her. I sent my loyal Brahmans to the merchant's home to see if she would be a good fit for me. When they came back, they listed all of her bad habits and flaws, so I decided that she wasn't right for me. I suggested that the merchant give his daughter to my best warrior, the general of my troops.

Well, hindsight is 20/20, and I realized today that I should have gone to meet her myself (dating nowadays is so complicated). The city held its annual spring festival today, and as I proceeded through the parade, I looked up and suddenly saw the most elegant, stunning woman I'd ever laid eyes on. Instantly, my heart started to race and I was overcome by love. Overwhelmed, I blacked out and fell off the elephant I was sitting on--luckily, I had my trusty servants to catch me.

The elephant I rode on in the parade. Source: Wikipedia.

When I woke up, I asked my servants, "Who was that who caused such a reaction in me?" They told me that the beauty was Passion, and I immediately started. This was the woman who had so many faults? I definitely didn't see them. I called in my Brahmans and demanded an explanation. They told me that they saw her beauty and became afraid for my kingdom--they thought that if I married her, I would think of nothing else and let the city go to shambles. I appreciated their concern for the greater good, but I was also disappointed. I had to dismiss them.

For the next few days, I was a mess. I couldn't stop thinking about Passion and her beauty and virtuousness. I confided in my loyal page, and he suggested countless times that I simply take Passion away from her husband. I adamantly refused--this just wasn't the right thing to do. Eventually, the word somehow got out that I was pining for this woman. My general himself approached me, full of remorse. He even offered to give me his wife. At this, I got angry and told him that there would be no virtue in that action, only sin.

Oh well. I guess I'll just have to wait to find the right woman.

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Author's note: For this storytelling exercise, I chose to retell the story of The General's Wife from the Twenty-Two Goblins unit. Instead of using a third-person omniscient storytelling style, I chose to  recount the tale from the first-person view of King Glorious. This reading unit was a frametale consisting of 22 riddles that a goblin tells to a king. In this particular riddle, the ending is more morbid than I made it to be--Glorious dies from his lovesickness, and then the general dies because of his mourning for the king. When the goblin finishes telling this story, he asks the king who the more virtuous person was and why. The wise ruler says that King Glorious was more admirable because he didn't take advantage of his power and displayed his strength in character by refusing to transgress against his people.

Bibliography:
Story: The General's Wife
Unit: Twenty-Two Goblins
Source: Un-Textbook.
Original: Twenty-Two Goblins (Sanskrit: Vetālapañcaviṃśati), translated by Arthur Ryder. Source: Project Gutenberg. 2000.

Week 3 Storytelling: The Sons and Their Harvest

A farmer sowing his seeds. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

An aging farmer had three sons, and as he felt like he did not have much longer to live, he wished to pass on his wisdom and his land to his sons. He fairly divided up the land into three equal parts and gave a plot to each of them, instructing them to do their best to maintain the soil and have good harvests.

The youngest son did not have much experience with farming, as his brothers had always been called first to help on the land. He tried his best to sow and till the seed, but got frustrated easily and did not finish the job. Eventually, he simply let the land be, and weeds and thorns grew up and crowded the land, overpowering the fruit. At the end of the year, he had harvested barely anything and was very disappointed in his crop.

The second brother fared slightly better than the first. He knew what to do in order to produce a plentiful harvest, but the land that his father gave him had several trees on it. The trees drew all of the nutrients out of the soil and made a rocky foundation. The crop grew quickly soon after he planted his seeds, but when their roots went deep enough into the soil, they died because of the lack of nutrients. The second brother saw that there was nothing he could do--although he tilled the soil day and night, there was no way to make the land healthy again. He became frustrated at the rapid growth and withering of his fruit.

The third brother, however, had a much better yield. His land was dense and had good soil. He worked tirelessly, constantly digging up and turning over the soil. After he sowed his seeds, he watched as his crop multiplied. Day after day he picked his crops, noticing that he had more than either of his brothers or any of his neighbors. Looking at his harvest, he realized the hard work that was necessary to produce much fruit.

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Author's note: When I read the parable of the sower in the Gospel of Mark, chapter 4, I equated the sower to a farmer planting his seeds to harvest a good crop (a fairly understandable and self-explanatory likening). The original parable that Jesus preached is about a sower spreading his seeds, with mixed results--some seeds fall on barren land and cannot grow, others land in rocky soil so their roots could not grow deep and they eventually wither away, and still others are planted in good soil and flourish. Here, Jesus tells his followers that their spreading of God's Word will similarly bring both fruit and frustration.

I wanted to retell the story in a different way, so I looked up stories about farmers. Because Jesus's parables are meant to teach lessons to his followers, I wanted to incorporate another story that also intends to give its readers a lasting moral, so I searched in Aesop's fables and came across the story about a farmer and his sons. In this, the farmer is ailing and on his deathbed, and he wishes to pass on his land to his sons and make sure that they have a good harvest. He tells them that there is a treasure hidden somewhere on the property and that it could be theirs if they find it. They dig frantically and find nothing, but the next year, the land yields an abundance of crops because the land was thoroughly tilled. The moral here is "Industry is itself a treasure."

The overall theme that I wanted to get across was the blending of these two stories: from a biblical point of view, it can be said that the spreading of God's Word can take a lot of effort--it does not always fall on accepting ears and it takes a lot of investment to make faith work. Even from a non-religious point of view, though, the lesson of reaping what one sows is a good reminder to all to be diligent in every goal that one may have.

Bibliography:
The Gospel of Mark, chapter 4
King James Bible (1611).
Found in the Un-Textbook.

The Farmer and His Sons
Aesop's Fables, illustrated by Milo Winter. 1919.
Source: Project Gutenberg.

Week 2 Storytelling: The Spirit of Anticleia

Teiresias prophesying Odysseus's journey home. 

Artist: Johann Heinrich Fussli. Source: Wikipedia.

Odysseus, once daunted by the idea of going into the underworld, felt a little more at ease once he had spoken to Teiresias and heard the prophecy of safety in his journey back to Ithaca. He stayed at the entrance to Hades until the ghost of his mother met him.

She drank of the blood that Odysseus offered in order to communicate with the spirits, and immediately recognized him. Weeping, she asked him how he managed to get to the underworld alive. "Have you not seen your wife and son yet?" she asked dolefully.

Odysseus responded with his tale of his adventures since the Trojan War. "The witch Circe told me to seek Teiresias's prophecy," he explained. "After this, I can finally stop roaming and settle back in at home."

Then, a painful sadness overtook him. "Why are you here, mother? What took your life? And what about the family that I left when I went to war?"

Anticleia assuaged her son's fears, saying, "Your wife still lives in your palace, but it has been overrun by suitors asking for her hand in marriage. Despite this, she has remained faithful to you throughout the years you have been gone. Your son, Telemachus, has become a man and presides over the land. They are facing hardship and temptation each day, but they get by. However, your father is lonely in the countryside, weak with age. For years he has been grieving and awaiting your return. Please visit him on your journey back so that he does not meet the same fate as I. It was not disease or weapons that took my life, but a broken heart, waiting all those years for your sweet spirit.

At this, Odysseus was overcome by heartache. He wished he could hold her and bring her comfort. Three times he tried to hug his mother, but with each attempt, her spirit escaped his embrace. This saddened him even further, and he asked, "Why can I not hold you? Are you just a trick of the light or an apparition sent by Hades to torment me more?"

The wise woman answered, "This is just the way of the world of the dead. Spirits are not substantial any longer; we don't have the forms we once did. But do not worry about that, child: take the information and advice that I have given you and bring it back to the world. Say hello to your father, and when you reach Ithaca, bring the good news of your return to your wife and son."

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Author's note: As I was reading the Odyssey, this passage was both difficult and fascinating to read. Of course, it was heartbreaking to see the grief of Odysseus and his mother, but there was something sweet among the sadness of this excerpt. Inexplicably, this was my favorite part of the reading unit.

In this storytelling exercise, I stuck very closely to the original translation by Tony Kline, as I wanted to keep the reverence and loving tone in the interaction between Odysseus and Anticleia. I loved this section of the text because it was a change of pace from the violence that Odysseus faced with Polyphemus the Cyclops and the temptation that he received at the hands of Circe the witch. It is an interesting juxtaposition of emotional affection, inserted between accounts of battles with monsters that incorporate only brute force.

Bibliography:

Homer's Odyssey, as found in the Un-Textbook.

(Original: The Odyssey, translated into English by Tony Kline, 2004)

Week 1 Storytelling: The Frogs and Their King

The Frogs and Their King

Once upon a time, a group of frogs happened across a small marsh. They decided that this was as good a place to live as any and settled down. For a while, the frogs lived their days in peace and contentment. They slowly built the community and lived life together. Neighbors helped neighbors and everyone enjoyed each other's company.

Gradually, however, the frogs started seeking a change in their routines. Up until this point, all they had had to do for entertainment was catch flies on their tongues and croak at the sky. Even playing leapfrog in the reeds was getting tiring. They had heard stories of the majesty of lions and this filled them with the desire to have a ruler like that. They dreamed of having elaborate parades for a king who could properly govern them and provide their lives with structure. So, they went to Jupiter to request a king.

Jupiter looked down at the colony of frogs with pity. He knew that they meant well, but that they had little foresight. He could tell that if the frogs truly had a ruler, their little community would be ruined. To still assuage them, Jupiter sent down a giant log from the sky and it landed right in the middle of the marsh. 

Upon hearing the enormous splash, the frogs emerged from their homes to see what had interrupted their peaceful day. They saw the log and were fearful: surely they should be wary of something that made so grand and so formidable an entrance. At the same time, though, they were thankful to Jupiter for bringing them a ruler who could bring order to their lives.

For days, the frogs hid inside their homes lest they anger their new king. Only occasionally did they peer outside to observe what Their Majesty was doing. After several weeks of doing this, the frogs realized that nobody had ever seen the log move. They gathered up their courage and went outside. Some of the younger frogs apprehensively approached their leader and one bravely poked the log with a stick. Still the log did not move.

It was at this point that the frogs recognized their king not as the terrifying, harsh patriarch that they once thought it was, but as a peaceful giant. In the following days, the frogs took advantage of the log's gentle nature: the younger frogs played games on it and the elders of the colony held conferences within its private chambers. 

An elder in the frog colony calling a meeting to order.

Eventually, the frogs were again discontent with their lax government. "This is just like having no king at all," some of them quipped. When Jupiter heard their cries again, he wished to teach them a lesson once and for all. 

To do this, he called a crane to take over for the log. When the crane arrived at the marsh, the frogs were taken aback--this was not the type of ruler they had asked for. They finally realized their blunder when the crane began to eat all the frogs in the colony.

"Never again will we ask for change if we don't know that things will get better," they cried.

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Author's Note: This is a retelling of the fable "The Frogs Who Wished for a King," found in the compilation book Aesop for Children, illustrated by Milo Winter (1919). The original story is a short account of a foolish group of frogs who originally live happily, but gradually become dismayed due to their dissatisfaction and need for more. My story follows the original very closely, with a few extra details and background.

Bibliography:
Aesop for Children by Aesop, illustrated by Milo Winter (1919). Web source: Project Gutenberg.