Portfolio Guide

The Real Story Behind Sindbad's Third Voyage: This tale was inspired by The Voyages of Sindbad and is based off of the Third Voyage, where Sindbad and his crew deal with a man-eating giant.

Saint Pelagien: This story is inspired by the tale of the same name in the Women Saints. The tale revolves around a woman's decision to disguise herself as a man in order to become a monk.

The Little Jackal's Nightmare: This tale is a spin on a tale from African Stories (Lang). In the original, the animals must keep the tricky jackal from drinking from their well.

The Power of Song: The original story tells of an unfortunate event involving a little boy and his untimely singing. I chose to put a spin on the story, making it more positive. The tale comes from the Canterbury Tales.

Woodpeckers Exposed: The original story comes from the Tejas Legends unit and tells the story of how the woodpeckers came to be. My take on the story involves a different fate for the troubled tribe and their children.

Week 10 Storytelling: Woodpeckers Exposed

Have you ever wondered why a woodpecker pecks? Has that thought kept you up night? Even though you may have not lost sleep over such a burning question, it may benefit you to know the cold, hard truth.

Firstly, let me just tell you that woodpeckers are smarter than most birds. They have a method to their madness, and they go about their activities with immense dedication. They are also discrete in their activities. If you watch a woodpecker and they notice you, they will stop what they are doing and will go around to the other side of whatever they happen to be pecking and will only stop to catch a quick glimpse of you every once in a while.

(The Majestic Woodpecker)

Their big secret? They all used to be Indians.

This tribe was once a thriving and populous group of people, and their main source of wealth was their abundance of the mescal plant. This plant had certain bulbs that grew from the main stem, and when eaten, the bulbs were said to give the eater magic powers. For hundreds of years, the tribe traded these bulbs for goods and livestock. They also traded the plants themselves for something much more valuable.

The bulbs were traded for infants.

You see, because the tribe had the power to grow and trade this magical plant, they had more power than all other people on the planet. Because of this, the spirits made a deal with the very first chief long ago. The deal was that the tribe couldn’t have children from their own tribe. Instead, children had to come from all different tribes in order to maintain diversity and help with the trades.

For this reason, once a year, various tribes would bring one infant to this particular tribe in return for a mescal plant.

This way of life went on for quite some time before disaster struck. One day, the mescal plants began withering. Some say it was a change in the wind. Others claim that the harvest was somehow sabotaged by jealous tribes from the area. Whatever the reason, it quickly became apparent that the tribe would lose their most valuable commodity. As the years went on, more and more plants withered and died, until at last the Indians had nothing to trade.

Their population began to diminish and after twenty years, the tribe had shrunk from hundreds of able-bodied men and women to a group of thirty. That’s when they knew they had to get help.

The went to the tribe’s medicine man, an ancient man so old that some said he was born at the beginning of time. He contacted the spirits, who offered him a solution.

In order to fix the problem, they said, the remainder of the tribe would be turned into woodpeckers. Unbeknownst to the tribe, there were still mescal plants in the world. The spirits had changed the plants into trees in order to keep them from going extinct. The spirits said that the woodpeckers would have to peck at trees, and once they found a mescal tree, they would be able to harvest it and get a child in return.

The Indians agreed to do this and soon flew off to the far corners of the world in search of the mescal plant. They would make nests in an area of trees and would then start pecking at all of the trees in that area. When they would come upon a mescal tree, they would harvest the bulbs and would get an egg in their nest the next morning.

This is how the tribe has managed to survive and even thrive. Although life for them is much more challenging now, the woodpeckers complete their tasks dutifully and never lose sight of their goals.

Author's Note: This tale was based off of Why the Woodpecker Pecks from the Tejas Legends unit. In the original, the Indians that are now woodpeckers make the mistake of eating the mescal plant in order to feel the magical powers. The mescal plant knobs were supposed to be eaten by the medicine men only, and if others ate them, bad luck would befall them. Everyone gradually begins to eat the knobs, so one of the gods of the sky decides to hide the children inside hollow trees to keep them safe. The people go to this god in order to get their children back, but he turns them into woodpeckers so that they can find their children. For my version, I decided to change it just a tad and blame the lack of mescal plants for their misfortune.
When the Storm God Rides: Tejas and Other Indian Legends retold by Florence Stratton and illustrated by Berniece Burrough (1936)
Web Source: UN-Textbook

Week 11 Storytelling: The Power of Song

Oftentimes, we drift through life meeting people of all shapes and sizes that stick around for a while then leave, giving us only a faint memory by which to remember them. If we are lucky, we stumble upon human beings who, though they may not linger long, leave a strong and lasting presence with which we exist for the remainders of our lives. I’m here to tell you a story about the latter.

Long ago, there lived in a great city a little boy by the name of Hugo. Hugo was a seven-year-old Christian and went to school in the Jewish quarter, where he soaked up knowledge like a sponge. He loved knowledge of all kinds, but he especially loved to learn about the Virgin Mary, whom he had developed an adoration for just about as soon as he could talk. His mother, a devout woman of faith, helped fuel this adoration by teaching him the Ave Maria and other prayers and songs of praise dedicated to the Holy One.

One day, while little Hugo was in school, he heard a new song, one that immediately plucked at his heart strings. He knew with every bone in his body that this was another song of praise to the great Mary, and he yearned more than anything to learn and sing this new song. After school that day, Hugo went up to the teacher and begged him to teach him the song. The teacher agreed, and Hugo learned the song in record time.

(Hugo Singing)

On his way home, Hugo couldn’t help but sing the song as loudly as his little lungs would allow. The angelic singing echoed through the streets, and people all around stopped to listen. Unfortunately, since Hugo was in the Jewish quarter, the attention he received for singing the praises was overwhelmingly negative. As soon as the officials heard his singing, they immediately went to the school, grabbed the teacher, and had him thrown in prison. They then rushed to Hugo’s house in order to have them kicked out.

When they arrived at the house, however, they experienced something that can only be called a miracle. From the time Hugo learned the song to the time that the officials arrived at his home, Hugo had not stopped singing. The officials, having stormed the house, were about to take Hugo and his mother when, all of a sudden, they heard another voice join in, harmonizing with Hugo’s sweet melody. Another voice followed, then another. Soon, it seemed as though a thousand people had started to join in, yet there was nobody there but Hugo and his poor, frightened mother. The officials soon realized what was taking place. The angels, hearing Hugo’s sweet singing to the Virgin, had decided to step in and support the little boy.

The officials were stunned, and for the longest time all they could do was listen in awe. Then, one by one, they too joined in. The neighbors, hearing all that was happening, felt compelled to sing too. Slowly, the whole quarter joined in. Gradually, the singing echoed throughout the city, with every citizen singing the miraculous song along with Hugo and the angels. What’s especially interesting is that those that didn’t know the song found themselves singing with perfect clarity, as though their souls were being shown the lyrics.

After a few minutes, the singing began to die down until only Hugo was left to sing the final notes. The officials, awestruck by the happenings, quickly apologized and left the house. They then went straight to the jail and released the poor teacher.

After that, the city experienced a long and prosperous peace, with all quarters of the city treating each other with the utmost respect and kindness. As for Hugo, he died at a ripe old age, having dedicated his life to spreading the love and kindness that had unified his city on to the rest of the world. He was buried in a white temple, and to this day, people say that they hear his pure, sweet voice echoing within the temple walls.

Author's Note: This week's story was based off of Little Hugh from the Canterbury Tales unit. The original tale tells of the short life of Hugh, a little boy that had a deep love and reverence for the Virgin Mary. After learning a song of praise, he was murdered in the Jewish quarter for singing the song. After finding his body, everyone was stunned to see that he was still singing. As it turned out, Mary had placed a little grain on his tongue so that he wouldn't stop singing the praises, and taking the grain out of his mouth would be the only way to get him to stop. In my version, I changed up the tale so that there would be a happier ending. Since this tale is also anti-Semitic, I wanted my version to include the part where everyone settled their differences and lived together happily.
The Chaucer Story Book by Eva March Tappan (1908)
Web source: UN-Textbook

Week 7 Storytelling: The Little Jackal's Nightmare

“Oh, Ma!! I had the most terrible dream!” whimpered the little jackal as he scurried to his mother. He fought back tears as he nestled into his mother’s bosom.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. Tell me about your dream,” replied his mother as she gently licked the fur on his head.

“Oh, Ma. It was terrible. I dreamed that all of the animals were cruel to me just because I wanted a drink of water!” cried the little jackal.

“It’s OK, honey. It wasn’t real. Tell me all that you remember about this dream so that you can get it all out of your head and go back to sleep,” soothed his mother.

“OK, well, here’s what happened. I was all grown up and living around a whole bunch of other animals. Animals of all kinds, Ma! There were giraffes, and rabbits, and tortoises! One day, they all decided that they were so thirsty that they needed to dig a well for more water. Well, they asked me to help, but I’m so small and young that I didn’t think I would do much good helping them! They all saw me as this strong adult jackal, and I tried to explain to them that I’m just a little kid, but they didn’t believe me!"

"I think that’s why they all started being super mean to me, Ma. They dug their well and everything, but they wouldn’t let me drink from it! I remember feeling super duper thirsty in my dream, like I was thirsty in real life! It was crazy! So I thought maybe I could offer them something in return for their water.

"After they had dug their well, they had a rabbit hang out by the well, and I think it was because they didn’t want me drinking their water. Well, I went up to him and offered him some honeycomb, but I was afraid he might hit me because he had a big, scary staff, so I asked him to tie his paws behind his back, you know, just in case. Well, he did it, and I was so excited about the water that I ran up and drank and ran away before he could catch me! It was only then that I realized that I hadn’t offered him any of the honeycomb!"

"The next day, I decided to go back and give him some because I felt really bad, Ma. You always taught me to share, and that’s what I was trying to do! When I went back, I saw that there was a hare there instead of the rabbit! Then I started feeling really thirsty again."

"So I tried to offer the hare some honeycomb, but he had two giant clubs right beside him, which really scared me. It was like something out of the horror stories Dad always tells us. So I asked him to tie his paws behind his back so I wouldn’t be so scared, and then I would feed him the honeycomb. Well, he did it and I was so excited that I drank some water and ran off before I could give HIM some honeycomb! Oh, I felt rotten, Ma. I just kept forgetting! I know you get onto me for being forgetful, and I’m trying really hard to be better."

"I decided that I would go back again the next day to try to give everyone some of my honeycomb, but that day they had the tortoise standing by the well. I greeted him just like I did all of the others, because you’ve always told me that being nice to animals is the right thing to do, but he just ignored me! It was so rude! So then I did something mean. I was getting really thirsty again, and the tortoise was just standing there being a bully, so I just kicked him over and got my drink!"

"Then came the scariest part, Ma. Oh, it was so scary it made me want to cry! I had barely had any water when I felt something latch onto my leg. It was the tortoise!!! He was biting my leg, Ma!! I told him I would give him the honeycomb and everything else I had on me, but he wouldn’t let go! Then all the other animals came and started making fun of me. I finally got my leg free and ran far away! That’s also when I woke up.”

(Young jackal playing with his baby brother)

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry!” Ma said. “That does sound like a terrible dream, but you know that we jackals pride ourselves on being honest and polite, so that was just a nightmare, OK? Don’t worry about anything. If we ever have to help our fellow animals dig a well, we will dig the most and be the nicest and most helpful animals there! I love you, honey. Go back to sleep.”

With that, the little jackal curled up next to his mother and drifted off, dreaming of more pleasant things.

Author's Note: This week, I read the African Stories (Lang) unit, and one of my favorite stories was Jackal and Spring. In the original, all of the animals decide to combat a drought and dig a well, but the jackal offers no help. To get back at him, they decide not to let him drink any of their water and ask animals to stand guard by their well. The jackal outwits the rabbit and the hare by offering them honeycomb, but in the end, the tortoise gets the better of the jackal and bites him on the leg, successfully guarding the well. I chose to make that story a nightmare for a young jackal because I know that when I was little, I always loved coming to my ma and telling her about my bad dreams so that she could hug me and tell me that it was all OK.
The Crimson Fairy Book by Andrew Lang, illustrated by H. J. Ford (1903)
Web source: UN-Textbook

Week 4 Storytelling: The Real Story Behind Sindbad's Third Voyage

I would like to consider myself a giant of routine. Up until recently, I would leave my humble castle every day at the crack of dawn, and I would go for my morning stroll around the island. This allowed me to mentally prepare for the day and to enjoy my beautiful surroundings.

I would then go and visit my cousins and discuss the weather and what the tide had brought in that morning. Afternoons and evenings were spent hiking and catching my evening meal.

I’ve always prided myself on my exquisite taste. I love fresh, locally grown produce and meats, but my guilty pleasure is humans. Call them my cheat meal. Since they don’t come around the island very often, I really feel like it’s my birthday when I get to have one, but I digress.

One day, after doing my usual activities, I returned to my castle to find the biggest surprise of my life. On the ground in my dining room was gathered a whole group of humans! I would have to count my calories for months after eating so many, but...WORTH IT. I decided to only eat one a night in order to at least somewhat keep up with portion control.

Upon examination, I discovered that they were all pretty measly. I at last found one that didn’t look like he would taste like uncooked rice, and after dining, I drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Life was looking really good.

I was able to enjoy some more humans over the next few nights, and I was beginning to think that eating one daily wouldn’t be such a bad thing at all! I began to get used to my routine of having one every night; eating dinner had become my favorite part of the day.

One night, everything changed. After I had supped, I lay down to go to sleep, as usual. The next thing I know, my morsels are stabbing me in the eye with the very spits I had used to cook them on! I was overcome with pain. It was with horror that I realized that I could no longer see! I got up, stumbled around, and after not being able to crush one of those evil creatures, I fled my castle in order to find some shelter from the monsters in my very home.

By some miracle, I got to the house of my two older cousins, who comforted me any way they could think to. They tried salves, organic eye drops, and just plain old ice, but nothing seemed to ease my eye pain.

“Those parasites! How inconceivable that our food would turn on us and treat us like we are the bad guys!” they cried.

The next morning, they decided to go over to my place and show those devils who’s boss. My cousins called up their friends, and, putting my arms around their shoulders for support, they took me to my castle. Not finding any humans there, they quickly guessed to run to the shoreline, where we suspected they would be trying to make their escape. We were correct. They had fashioned rafts and were quickly getting away! My fellow giants hurled large rocks at them and managed to destroy all rafts but one. Score! I was sad that we hadn’t gotten rid of all of them, but I took what I could get.

(Giants Hurling Rocks)

After these events, my routine became quite different. I can no longer enjoy my beautiful surroundings, and I get around with the help of my family. I struggle to hold my head high, but I know that deep down, I did nothing wrong. I’ve also sworn off humans completely and am now a strict vegetarian. Those humans have left a permanent bad taste in my mouth.

Author's Note: I chose to retell the story of Sindbad's Third Voyage from the point of view of the giant. In the original tale, Sindbad's crew is left on an island after a group of vicious red-furred savages overtake their ship and force them on to the island. They then take shelter in a castle that ends up belonging to a giant that has an affinity for human flesh. Every night, the giant eats one of the crew members for dinner, until one night the crew blinds him and makes their escape. They attempt to escape the island using rafts they had built during the day, but the only members of the crew that survive are the ones on Sindbad's raft because the others are destroyed by the rocks that the giants hurl at them. I tried to stick to the original as much as possible, but since virtually nothing was written about the giant's background, that gave me a lot of freedom. I especially liked that I could describe his daily activities and show why he ate the way he did, because I thought it would make him a little more relatable.
The Arabian Nights' Entertainments by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1898) Web source: UN-Textbook

Storytelling Week 3: Saint Pelagien

Pelagien appeared at the abbey late one stormy, cold night. He seemed terrified and helpless, yet he was certain that becoming a monk was what he must do. His clothing hung on him loosely, and his hair looked like it had been cut off by some sort of blunt ax. I, being the abbot, examined him and decided that this place would be the perfect safe haven for a young, helpless soul like him.

(Abbot sharing his story about Pelagien)

His time at the abbey was extremely fruitful. Pelagien was eager to learn and please the Lord in all that he did and became somewhat of a role model for the younger monks at the abbey. In all of our interactions, I never did learn about this young man’s past, even though I was curious. All I knew from the very beginning was that he had escaped from a compromising situation, and that was all he ever said about it.

His countenance drastically improved over the course of his time at the abbey. When Pelagien came to me, I was afraid he would keel over at the slightest hint of a breeze. As time went on, he gained a healthy and even otherworldly glow that I could only attribute to his heart being filled with the great love of the Lord.

After some time, we at the abbey felt that Pelagien could be trusted with more responsibilities. For this reason, he became the master of the neighboring nunnery. It came as a surprise that he initially refused the duty so strongly since he was always eager to do more of the Lord’s work. Eventually, though, he consented and began to partake in all of the duties bestowed upon him. His work prospered, and the nunnery became even holier.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I found out that Pelagien had committed one of the gravest sins. There was a virgin who had committed adultery and her resulting pregnancy could no longer be hidden under layers of loose clothing. Since Pelagien was constantly around this woman and knew her, we all assumed that he was the father of the child. It was with sadness and anger at the assumed betrayal that we imprisoned Pelagien for his deed. We placed him within a dark pit that was hewn out of a rock. Pelagien handled the accusation with somber silence.

The monk sent to look after Pelagien was a stern man, and it wasn’t long before he began to report to me that Pelagien had become nothing but a mere shadow of what he once was. Regardless, the suffering man still possessed an otherworldly light that emanated from him at all times.

Soon after his imprisonment, Pelagien passed on. He left behind his emaciated body and a letter for me and my fellow monks that truly shocked all of the members of the religious community. In the letter, we discovered that Pelagien wasn’t a man, but a devout woman of the faith, Margaret. Imagine my horror when I discovered that I took part in murdering an innocent human being. All of us at the abbey and the nunnery felt so awful that we made sure to honor her dying wish of being buried among the honorable virgins. To this day, I remember Pelagien with great awe.

(Saint Pelagien)

Author's Note: This story was based on the legend of Saint Pelagien, who is a woman that disguises herself as a man in order to become a monk. The saint, whose real name is Margaret, was desperate to get out of a marriage, which is why she went through all of the trouble of disguising herself and going to an abbey. I chose to tell this story from the point of view of the abbot of the monastery because I thought it would offer a different perspective on the story. I wanted to drive home that those from the monastery and nunnery venerated the saint and regretted their actions. I thought it was important to not make light of the fact that an innocent woman died for her pure actions. It was somewhat difficult to make this story long enough at first, but then I realized that there was so much I could describe, and that made the writing much easier. The nice thing about the stories in this unit is that they are relatively free of too many details, allowing for a lot of freedom with descriptions and details. 
This story is found in The Golden Legend edited by S. F. Ellis (1900). Web source: Golden Legend: Saint Pelagien.