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 14 Storytelling: No Canine Left Behind

One day, a hunter and his dog were out in the forest looking for game. They hunted all day, going all through the marshes and thickets, but their efforts were unsuccessful. Discouraged, the hunter decided to call it a day. As they had been going into the depths of the forest all day, their way home was a long one, and they got out onto the main road well after midnight. 

 (The hunter and his dog)

As they neared the village, they happened to pass a cemetery. The sight of the cemetery at such a dark, late hour frightened the man, and he picked up his pace. He had scarcely drawn his gaze from the cemetery when all of a sudden, a corpse in a white shroud appeared in front of him! The hunter’s chest tightened and his palms became clammy and cold.

“I’m going to make a run for it!” he decided out loud and broke into a sprint.

Unfortunately for him, the corpse happened to be just as quick, and in no time, the corpse began to gain on the man. Luckily for the hunter, his dog was right at his side. Just as the corpse was about to grab the man’s jacket, the dog jumped up and bit the corpse’s arm! A fierce and loud fight ensued between the dead man and the dog. The hunter, however, didn’t see any of this as he ran to his house on the outskirts of the village.

The next morning, the hunter woke up his whole family and told them what had occurred. He waited anxiously on the front porch, hoping that his trusty dog would show up. He waited all day, and when the sun finally began to set, he saw the dog slowly coming up the road toward the house.

He was overjoyed! He had almost lost hope and realized he would never find a dog as loyal and good as the one that had protected him from the fierce corpse. He ran out to the dog and began to embrace him, when all of a sudden, the dog’s appearance began to change.

The once lean, somewhat mangy dog began to transform into a handsome young man. His fur changed into lavish clothing, and he soon stood looming over the hunter.

“Foolish hunter,” said the prince once he had finished transforming, “You should not have left me back there to defend you. The corpse came there to challenge you to a wrestling match to see if you were worthy of his blessing. If you had stayed and won the fight against the corpse, he would have bestowed upon you great riches and power, but because you fled, I was the one that showed my strength and courage to the dead man. We fought all night, and at the first light of the morning, he praised my efforts and turned me into a prince with great riches.”

The hunter begged his former pet to share some of his riches with him, but the prince refused to give him anything because the hunter hadn’t stayed to help him out. Not long after, a lavish carriage pulled up to where they were standing, and the prince climbed in and rode off to his new life. 

Author's Note: This tale was based off of The Dog and the Corpse in the Russian Folktales unit. In the original tale, the dog is left by his master to fight a corpse that has appeared before them and wants to kill them. The dog and corpse fight all night, and in the morning, the corpse fell motionless to the ground. The dog then held a grudge against his owner because the owner didn't try to help the dog. In the end, the dog had to be killed because it kept trying to kill the owner out of anger. My version of the tale is loosely based on the original, but I wanted the dog to get some kind of reward for fighting the corpse. 
Russian Fairy Tales: A Choice Collection of Muscovite Folk-lore by W. R. S. Ralston (1887)
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 9 Storytelling: Timeline of a Love Story

I would never see a living person again.

Looking at the infant before it was ready put a curse on the island and people and resulted in everyone being forbidden to go to the land of the spirits. I had sent for my mother so that she might see the beautiful half human, half spirit child that had been born to my beautiful lover. The only condition was that she wouldn’t look upon the baby until it was 10 days old, or else it would perish. She didn’t listen.

She gave birth to my child. My lover had visited me on the island every night, and every night she danced with me until the first light of day. The voices joined in song and the tom-tom beat of the dance drum could be heard across the river. Our love for each other only deepened with every passing night, and it didn’t matter to her that I wasn’t as I had once been. Her father prepared a boat for her every evening, and every evening she came to me. 

 (Spirits Dancing)

Her father was frightened of what would befall the tribe, yet he couldn’t stop her from coming. Ever since she came to me that first night, he believed that she would bring a curse on the people. She wanted to come again.

She paddled as fast as she could back across the river in an old boat that she had found on the shore. My appearance had changed drastically during the day. The first morning that my lover saw me after a night of dancing, she only saw my smiling remains staring back at her through the hollows where my eyes should have been. Around her were the rest of them that, like me, had come alive under the light of the moon. At night, I was completely different. I was a better, stronger, more beautiful version of myself. It was at night that we danced to the drums and singing and grew closer than we have ever been before.

She came to the island with her father, who dropped her off with four individuals at the edge of the island. Too afraid to come onto the land, he paddled back across the Columbia River, where he felt safe with his tribe. She was greeted by four spirit people, and then she was led to me. That’s when she first saw me since my passing.

She listened to the woman in her vision. She told her father of the vision, and he agreed to take her. The woman in the vision told her to come to Memaloose Island, where I was buried, and she would be able to be with me again.

I died wishing for more time with my dear lover. Our sweet time together was too short. My heart belonged to her, and I couldn’t bear to be apart from her for even an hour. I knew she felt the same love for me.

Author's Note: This week, I chose to read the Pacific Northwest unit. In this unit, the story that struck out to me the most was The Memaloose Islands. The original tells the tale of a young chief that dies suddenly. He is in love with a young maiden, and she sees a vision telling her to go to the island of the dead in order to see her deceased lover. She goes at night and finds him better than before. They end up dancing all night, but when she wakes up in the light of day, she finds her love and all of others on the island to be nothing but corpses and skeletons. She ends up going back, and in time gives birth to a half human, half spirit baby. The young chief sends for his mother so that she might see the child, but she looks at the child before she is allowed to, and as a result curses the island. After that, visitation to the island becomes forbidden. I chose to tell this story backwards and from the chief's point of view. I omitted some details as well because I figured it would be tricky enough keeping track of the plot as it was. I've never written a story like this, so this is my experiment. 
Myths and Legends of the Pacific Northwest, Especially of Washington and Oregon by Katharine Berry Judson (1910). 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

Storytelling Week 6: The Three Goods

Once upon a time, in the old days, there lived a man by the name of Tschu Tschu. He was the kindest man in the region, and he just so happened to live in the vilest town in China. This town belonged to the Triad, one of the fiercest Chinese gangs, and the town served as the headquarters for this profoundly wicked organization. The town thrived on its reputation as the most inhospitable and cruel settlement in all the land, and Tschu Tschu was constantly ruining their bad name by doing good.

Tschu Tschu had a heart the size of Xinjiang, and no matter where he went, good emanated from him and seeped into the hearts of all those nearby. He was calm and disciplined, and no evil could get done in his presence. This infuriated all of the residents of the village, but the elders just couldn’t bring themselves to punish him for his good deeds.

He wore a high hat on his head, adorned with two peacock feathers. His garments were made of humble materials, yet he looked more put together than even the head gangster himself. At his side hung a bag full of candy, and each child he passed became a recipient of one of the sweets. He was given to helping the poor and feeding the homeless, and he tended to give away anything of value almost as soon as he got it in order to provide for others. Anybody that was wronged by the gang came to him for aid. Thus he kept this up for years and was a real party pooper on the town known for its cruelty.

Then the new Mountain Master came to the town.

When he arrived, he first went about to the homes of all of the gang families and listened to their complaints. Being the new head of this criminal organization, he wanted to make sure everything was running smoothly. Going from house to house, it soon became clear to the Mountain Master that there were three goods in that area. This was three good things too many.

Mountain Master knew what he must do. He immediately went to Tschu Tschu and confronted him with a sword pressed against his throat.

(Mountain Master at work)

“Why are you doing this?” asked Tschu Tschu.

“I am the new Mountain Master,” replied the other. “I have come to uphold the standard of evil in the area. All of the residents here are cruel and selfish people, and yet they cannot be completely evil because of three good things in this area. I have come to ask that you do away with two of them, and in time, maybe you’ll do away with the third as well.”

Tschu Tschu was deeply afraid, and his only wish was to get out of the situation alive.

“What are the three good things?” asked Tschu Tschu. “Tell me so I can try to make everything how you want it to be.”

“The first good,” said the Mountain Master, “is a meadow full of Bengal tigers that brings good luck to everyone that comes to them. The second good is a dragon that spews gold coins out of his mouth when he comes to the banks of the river at the first of every month. See to it that these good things stop happening.”

“What is the third good thing?” asked Tschu Tschu.

“That you will realize in time. Now go and see to these things.” said his intimidator.

Tschu Tschu made haste to the meadow, where he scared the tigers off by shooting fireworks all around the pasture. Then he waited until the first of the month, at which time he ran down to the banks of the river where the dragon was raining down gold coins on everyone that came near. He charged at the dragon with a team full of giant oxen, and the dragon was so scared that he vowed never to return.

After he did these things, Tschu Tschu had an epiphany. He ran to the residence of the Mountain Master and found him sitting in his garden, plotting the routes of his money laundering operation.

“Mountain Master!” he cried, “I know what the third good is! It’s me!”

“You are correct,” replied the man. “What do you make of this?”

Tschu Tschu, looking long and hard at the Mountain Master, said with earnestness and ferocity, “I have been doing good all my life, and I realize now that I have not had time to focus on myself. Being good meant giving and giving, and in return I was getting nothing. I’m done with that life. Train me up in your ways, so that in time I may be your right hand man and maybe even your successor.”

Pleased with what he heard, the Mountain Master replied, “Wonderful. I was hoping you would say this. Follow me. We will begin the initiation ritual.”

From that day on, Tschu Tschu became the most evil Triad in the region, and the town fully prospered as a land of evil and corruption.

Author's Note: For this week, I decided to read Chinese Fairy Tales. The story that stood out to me most was The Three Evils. In the original, the main character is awful and terrorizes the town in which he lives. After some time, a new mandarin appears and pleads with him on behalf of the people to get rid of the three evils that plague the residents. The evil man agrees, and after getting rid of two of the evils, he finally realizes that he is the third and leaves the town forever. For my story, I decided to make the character the complete opposite of the original. He starts out as the only good person in town, and after getting rid of the two good things, he realizes that the evil life is the life for him.
The Chinese Fairy Book, ed. by R. Wilhelm and translated by Frederick H. Martens (1921) Web source: UN-Textbook

Storytelling Week 5: The Four (Ant) Brothers

There is a city called Great Ant Hill. In it lived the great Queen Ant. In her kingdom, there lived a worker ant in one of the finer enclaves of Great Ant Hill, and this worker ant had four sons.

One day, the worker ant was busy hauling a bread crumb back to the kingdom when a torrential downpour occurred and swept him away, never to be seen again. The relatives of the worker ant took all of his meager possessions, leaving his four sons with virtually nothing.

The sons, seeing that there was nothing holding them in their area of the kingdom of Great Ant Hill, decided that they would seek out their ant grandfather in another enclave in order to live with him. When they got to their grandfathers little ant home, they found out that he had become trapped in tree sap and was now enclosed in it forever. Just when they were about to turn back and return to their father’s home, they saw their uncles and decided to stay with them for a while.

The four brothers stayed with their uncles for a while, but before too long, things started getting tense. Their uncles became fed up with them on account of their unwillingness to help out around their part of the ant hill, so they started keeping food from them and forbade them to sleep on the soft leaves, instead forcing them to sleep on the ground.

The brothers were deeply troubled by these events, and the older brother even admitted to the younger brothers that he wouldn’t mind getting stuck in some tree sap himself. The younger brothers, however, told him that he should pursue knowledge instead of wallowing in self-pity, and as a result, the four brothers decided to travel to four different ant hills in order to study with other ants and gain their knowledge.

After a very long time apart, several days, they reconvened and excitedly shared what they had learned.

“I can take a skeleton of any animal in the world and put the right kind of flesh on it!” exclaimed the oldest.

“I have learned how to put the appropriate skin and hair on any flesh covered skeleton! excitedly said the second oldest.

The third brother chimed in and said, “I know how to put the appropriate eyes and organs into a body after it is covered with flesh, skin, and hair.”

The youngest proudly proclaimed, “When all of the organs are there, I can give the creature the breath of life!”

The four ant brothers excitedly decided to venture into the forest in order to put their knowledge to the test. It just so happened that they had not walked for two hours when they came upon a massive skeleton.

“Woah. Let’s bring this one to life.” said the oldest.

Not knowing what kind of skeleton it was, the brothers began to do their work. The oldest brother fitted the skeleton with the right flesh. The second oldest added the appropriate skin and hair, the third brother added the right organs and eyes, and the youngest gave it life.

Alas! What the brothers didn’t know was that the creature they had brought back to life was an anteater! When the anteater looked around and saw the tasty ants, he immediately at them and went on his merry way into the forest.

(Anteater eating ants)

Thus, the four ants died because they made the worst kind of animal. Who could think that ants creating an anteater would be a good idea? For this reason, it’s important to see that something acquired that goes against fate shall not benefit the one that acquired it.

Author’s Note: I chose to tell the story of The Four Brothers from the point of view of ants because, quite frankly, I couldn’t really come up with anything else. In Twenty-Two Goblins, the goblin that the king repeatedly has to get from a tree in order to bring to the monk tells the king a story in the form of a riddle while the king carries him. At the end of the story, if the king cannot answer the riddle correctly, he is told that the goblin will kill him. One of the stories is the story that I chose to write on. In the original, the tale centers around four brothers that go and study a science after the death of their father and then meet up to show each other what they have learned. This part of the story I kept essentially the same. However, in the original they revive a lion that kills them, and in my version, it’s an anteater. I noticed that the stories in this unit tended to be very grim, so I thought maybe my version would be less grim because it was centered around ants.

Twenty-Two Goblins, translated by Arthur W. Ryder, with illustrations by Perham W. Nahl (1917)

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.

Week 1 Storytelling: Hector Protector

Fashion has been around since the dawn of time. Those who could afford more than one garment of clothing would take pains to ensure that what they wore was up to date with the trends of the day. Primarily those of royal blood were the ones that called the shots on what was “in” and what was “so last season.”

It is interesting to note, then, that Paris Fashion Week was started by Marie Antoinette and her husband, King Louis XVI. The year that Paris Fashion Week started was a memorable one, for it set about a series of events that would change France forever. The whole week of Fashion Week had gone by smoothly, with aristocrats drooling over the latest lace collars and silk dresses. The men, not to be forgotten, viewed an immense variety of trousers, shirts and jackets, all stitched by the finest paupers in France. The King and Queen had saved the best designer for last. He called himself Hector Protector because, in his mind, his mission in life was to protect those most fortunate from looking like the lower class or worse, the British. He was sent to them from the kingdom in Austria in order to further propel their fashion to the next level, and they could not wait to see what he had in store for them.

When the first model set foot on the runway, it seemed as though time had stopped. The clothing was immaculate, and the blue bloods were actively wiping the drool off of their faces with their fashionable silk hankies. Each model after the first was just as exquisite, and the King and Queen were extremely pleased in their choice to save Hector Protector for last.

Just as they stopped saying to each other that the day couldn’t get any better, Hector stepped on the runway. There was a collective gasp. Hector was dressed in head-to-toe green with green leather shoes greener than the mold on the peasants’ bread. Marie Antoinette’s stomach dropped. She felt sick. Did this Hector Protector not realize that green was in LAST season? How dare he show himself in such shameful garb, which in her mind completely discredited all of his work that she had seen on the runway. She turned to the King. His face was ashen. He had been let down by the designer in whom he had placed all of his faith. In his mind, only those inarticulate Siberians would do such a shameful thing as wear last season’s color on this season’s runway.

(Green Clothing)

What happened next was a blur. Tables and chairs were flipped. Windows were broken. Hector Protector was dragged away by the guards and told that he would never be welcome in France EVER again. Weeks later, as word spread of the atrocity that had occurred at the Paris Fashion Week, events for the country as a whole turned dire. Mounting tension between France and Austria occurred because of how Hector Protector had been treated. Eventually, Prussia sided with Austria, which then resulted in the insulted King declaring war on their former fashion friends. The rest, as they say, is history. History which can be read about in any and all books on the French Revolution. The moral of the story: NEVER double cross true fashion lovers, no matter how unintentional your motives may be.

Author's Note: I based my story on this nursery rhyme about Hector Protector:

“Hector Protector was dressed all in green;

Hector Protector was sent to the Queen.

The Queen did not like him,

Nor more did the King;
So Hector Protector was sent back again.”

I found this nursery rhyme in The Nursery Rhyme Book, which was edited by Andrew Lang in 1897. I wanted to make this a historical account because this was written about a King and Queen. Also, I thought that if the King and Queen didn't like Hector Protector, it could be because of a fashion faux pas he committed when he decided to wear green. This is how I got the idea to include Paris Fashion Week and then tied it in to the start of the French Revolution.