Week 14 Storytelling: A Lesson About Death

One night, a mother named Clara was trying to put her two children to bed in their room. They were boisterous and bouncy, and they wouldn't hold still long enough for them to fall asleep.

"That's it! I've had it!" Clara cried. "So long as you don't keep your father and I awake, I don't care whether you sleep or not."

She shut their door and went into her bedroom next door. She she was getting ready for bed, she told her husband about her day with the children. Clara was homeschooling her children, and had spent all day teaching them lessons about how different baby animals are born. She had taught them that birds lay eggs, and mammals have live young.

"Tomorrow," she said, "I'm going to teach the children a lesson about death."

What Clara didn't know was that her children were listening on the other side of the wall.

The little girl, Hannah, looked at her brother, Jacob, very seriously.

"Mom's going to kill us for not going to bed on time!" Hannah said.

"Surely not," Jacob said. "Maybe we misheard her."

"She said she was going to teach us a lesson about death!" Hannah cried. "We had better run away or she's going to kill us!"

Jacob wasn't all that convinced, but Hannah's panic was catching, and soon, Jacob was worried too. The two children packed up a few belongings and quietly sneaked out of the house.

Outside in the cold night air, Hannah and Jacob glanced around. They decided left was as good a direction as any, and they started walking.

Suddenly, the heard a dog barking and snarling. They looked over their shoulders to see a great Saint Bernard was chasing them down the street.

(Image Information: "Female Saint Bernard Dog" by ZaGerald, 2008.)

"Run!" Jacob yelled. The siblings took off running down the street. Jacob was sure they wouldn't be fast enough, but just as the dog started gaining on them a car came out of no where. It swerved to avoid hitting the children and the dog. It squealed to a stop in the middle of the road, putting a barrier between the kids and the dog.

The driver of the car got out and ran toward the dog.

"Oh thank goodness you're alright, Muffin," the woman said, patting the dog's ears.

"Be careful!" Hannah said. "That dog tried to kill us!"

"He wasn't trying to kill you. He was just trying to catch you," the woman said. "When I saw two children walking down the middle of the road at night, I got so nervous. So I sent Muffin to bring you back. I'm sorry if he scared you. But why are you out so late at night?"

"Our mother said she was going to teach us a lesson about death tomorrow!" Hannah cried.

"That's an odd thing to say. What did she teach you today?" the woman asked.

"About how animals are born," Jacob said.

"Well, that's life! Tomorrow's lesson will probably be about how animals die," the woman said.

"Ohhhh," Hannah and Jacob said together.

"Now, children, let me take you home to your parents. They must be so worried," the woman said.

The next day, the mother was so thankful to have her children back home that they took the day off from lessons entirely and played board games instead.

The moral of the story is two-fold. Don't listen in on people's conversations, and once you think you see your future, it changes because you now will have a different idea of how to reach it or hide from it.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by "The Monks and the Butcher," from the Heptameron of Margaret, Queen of Navarre, translated by Walter K. Kelly, 1855. In the original story, two monks stay the night at a butcher's house. There is a mix up over the difference between the word for monks and pigs, and the monks fear for their lives. One climbs out the window and runs away, but when the second one jumps from the window, he hurts his leg. He hides in the butcher's barn, and when the butcher comes the next morning to slaughter a pig, the monk absolutely freaks out. Eventually, the whole thing turns into a funny story about a misunderstanding.

Week 13 Storytelling: Harold and the Unthankful Snake

Once upon a time, a young man named Harold was walking through a forest. He had a messy shock of blonde hair and square shoulders. His momma had raised him to be kind and generous. So when he spotted something trapped and wiggling under a huge rock, he rushed over to be of assistance.

He grunted and groaned as he tried to pick up the boulder. After a few minutes of maneuvering, he succeeded and found that he had rescued a long, black snake.

"Why hello there, ssssson," the snake said. "Than you for resssssscuing me. But I'm afraid that now, I'll have to eat you for supper."

(Image Information: "The Snake" by John Batten, 1916.)

"And what kind of a thanks would that be?" Harold asked.

"The very yummy kind," the snake replied.

"No, I don't think that's fair at all. I saved you. You should show me true gratitude by letting me continue on my way though the forest," Harold said.

"No, what's mosssssssst important in life is sssssself-preservation. I can't let you go because I have no idea when my next meal will come along," the snake reasoned.

"Well, if I won't let you eat me, and you won't let me leave, then what are we to do?" Harold asked.

"Let'sssss ask the next passsssser-by of their opinion," the snake suggested.

That seemed agreeable to Harold. And so they waited, and waited.

While they were waiting, a troubling thought crossed Harold's mind. What if the next passer-by agreed with the snake?!

"Say, snake. What if we poll the next three passers-by? That way it will truly be a fair outcome," Harold suggested.

"Well, alright. If it will make you feel better about me eating you," the snake said.

Along came a old horse, and Harold and the snake both explained their sides.

"I don't see why the snake shouldn't eat you for supper," the horse said. "Just today, I found out that my master plans to sell me for my hoofs and my hide. Some gratitude that is."

"Why thank you very much for that opinion," the snake said.

Next, and old dog walked by, and Harold and the snake explained their situation.

"Go ahead and eat him. See if that teaches him that gratitude isn't worth anything. I was a hunting dog my whole life, and  I served my master well. But today he made me leave because I wasn't catching as many birds anymore. He kicked me out of his house with not a second thought! Humph. Gratitude," the dog said.

"That's two votessss!" the snake said. "Why sssssshould we bother hearing from another passsssssser-by? If he agreesssss with me, I'll eat you, and if he doessssn't, I'll ssssstill have more votesssss."

"No, no. The deal was that we would hear from three voters. Let's keep waiting," Harold said.

The whole time they waited, Harold worried.

Then along came a sly fox.

Once Harold and the snake made the fox aware of the situation, he fox quickly realized the version of events that would be best for him.

"What will you give me to eat if I help you get out of this?" the fox whispered to Harold.

"As many chickens as you want," Harold said.

The fox nodded.

"So let me see if I understand this predicament correctly. Harold was trapped under a rock, and the snake-"

The snake interrupted the fox.

"No, I was trapped under a rock. Not Harold," he said.

"Excuse me," the fox said. "The snake was trapped under a rock, and Harold wanted to eat him."

"No, no, no," the snake said. 'I want to eat Harold."

"Oh, yes. I see it quite clearly now," the snake said.

"The snake was trapped under the rock, he wanted to eat Harold, but Harold couldn't remove the rock," the fox said.

"Oh for heavenssss ssssake," the snake said. 'Let me ssssshow you."

The snake wiggled and wiggled until he was once again trapped under the rock.

"Now, I was ssssstuck like this, when along came Harold," the snake said.

"That's right. And that's just where you'll stay," the fox announced.

With the snake trapped once more, Harold let the fox back to his farm and gave him as many chickens as he could eat in gratitude.

Author's Note: This week, I retold "Inside Again" from Europa's Fairy Tale Book by Joseph Jacobs, 1916. I kept most of the story the same except that I changed the ending. In the original, the man takes the fox back to his house to get the chickens. But the man's wife doesn't want to give the fox any chickens. So she puts their old dog in a bag, and the fox takes the bag back to his den. When he opens it, the dog eats him up. This was supposed to be further proof that gratitude isn't good for much. But I think gratitude is very important, so I changed around the story to reflect that moral.

Week 12 Storytelling: Iris and Duke Cleaver

Once upon a time, there was a young lady named Iris. She was newly eighteen years old and only then allowed to date. For years, Iris's father had scared off the advances of many boys because Iris was too young. But now, all of those young men came back out of the woodwork to pursue her.

On Monday night, Iris went for ice cream with Damon. He was tall and his long brown hair flopped in his eyes. He was going to school to become a scientist.

On Tuesday afternoon, Henry took Iris for a walk in the woods. Henry was short and stocky. He wore his blonde hair buzzed short. Henry planned to join the military.

On Wednesday night, Duke Cleaver picked Iris up for a steak dinner. Duke Cleaver had ice blue eyes and pale skin. He told Iris of his wonderful castle where he could provide for her anything she desired. Iris liked him the best.

Iris saw plenty of other suitors on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, but during those outings she was always thinking about Duke Cleaver.

Her father told her that this was a sign. If she couldn't stop thinking about one man while she was with another, then she should marry the former.

Iris and Duke Cleaver agreed that they would get married, and he continued to tell her about his extravagant castle. But Iris thought it strange that he never invited her to visit the grand facade.

But Iris was a smart young lady, and so one day when Duke Cleaver was away on business, she decided she would simply go visit his castle alone.

The great building was constructed of gray stone. It had a draw bridge that ran over a moat, and several turrets came to sharp points in the distance.

Iris crossed the draw bridge and as she was entering through the archway, she found a phrase carved into the stone. It read, Be bold, be bold.

Hmmm, that is a funny thing to carve into an archway, she thought.

She continued on into a grassy green courtyard.

Over the doorway into the castle, it read, Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.

Iris opened the great wooden doors and found herself in a long dining room. On a golden plaque above the fireplace at the back of the room, it said, Be bold, be bold, but not too bold. Lest that your heart's blood should run cold.

Next to the fireplace was yet another door. Iris opened it and inside she found a most gruesome scene. The dead bodies of beautiful ladies were strewn about the room. They were covered in their own blood, and missing limbs lay abandoned on the floor.

Just as Iris was turning to leave, she heard footsteps and whistling. She quickly hid behind a table in the corner.

Not a second too soon, Duke Cleaver entered the room, dragging the body of an unconscious woman. He spread her out on the table that Iris hid behind and chopped of the woman's find to retrieve a diamond ring.

Iris had to cover her mouth to keep from shrieking. The dismembered finger flew off the table and landed in Iris's lap. Duke Cleaver searched around for it for a few moments before giving up.

Once Duke Cleaver had finished his murder of the woman, he left the blood room. Iris quickly snatched up the finger and ran out of the castle.

The very next day was supposed to be her wedding day. So at a feast that evening to celebrate the upcoming nuptials, Iris confronted Duke Cleaver in front of all of their guests.

 

(Image information: "Mr. Fox" by John D. Batten, 1890.)

"My dear," Iris said. "Last night I had the most curious dream. I dreamed that I visited your castle and found the words 'Be bold, be bold, but not too bold. Lest that your heart's blood should run cold.' carved by a doorway near a fireplace."

"But that can't be true," Duke Cleaver said.

"Inside the room were the dead bodies of many women. I hid behind a table, and in you walked, carrying an unconscious woman. You hacked her up right in front of me because you didn't know I was there," Iris continued.

"Oh, no. That can't  be true," Duke Cleaver said.

"You even cut off the woman's finger to take her diamond ring. One that looked very much like this finger and this diamond ring," Iris said. She triumphantly held up the severed finger.

"Guards!" Iris's father called. "Take this wretched man away!"

And Iris continued her time of courting with the many other suitors until she found a truly good man to mary.

Author's Note: This story is inspired by "Mr. Fox", from the English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs, with illustrations by John D. Batten, 1890. I kept most of the story the same, but I changed Mary's name to Iris, and I added in some details about her other suitors. I also changed Mr. Fox's name to Duke Cleaver because I couldn't figure out whether Mr. Fox was an actual fox or not. I sped up Iris's retelling of Duke Cleaver's crimes toward the end.

Week 11 Storytelling: Alice and The Chessmen

Once upon a time, there was a very bored little girl. Her golden hair twisted in boring curls, and the petticoats of her blue dress wrinkled in boring ruffles.

It was a hot summer day, Alice had absolutely nothing to entertain herself in her stuffy old living room. She had nothing, except her imagination, which is the greatest tool, you know.

Alice stared at the boring old chess set on the coffee table, and she squinted her eyes and concentrated very hard.

Suddenly, the black king's head popped out of the stone piece and became fleshy. That was quickly followed by his body, arms, and legs. He glanced around in confusion and noticed Alice.

"You there!" the Black King exclaimed. "What business have you going around and making perfectly good stone chess pieces turn into flesh?" He waved his fist indignantly.

"How am I supposed to command my army if I can no longer speak with them? I demand that you turn me back this instant!" he continued.

Alice was taken-aback. If she were stone, she reasoned, she would enjoy being made human. She didn't understand why the Black King had become all hot and bothered over the issue. Besides, she was bored, and she wanted someone to play with.

"No, I'm sorry, dear king. I shan't turn you back," Alice said matter-of-factually.

"Well, if you won't restore me to my regular state of being, then I absolutely insist that you bring all the rest of my comrades along with me!" the Black King declared. He straightened himself up to his full height.

Alice thought for a minute. She had turned the Black King into flesh and blood relatively easily. And having more chess pieces to play with did sound appealing.

"Alright," Alice agreed. "I'll try my best."

For the next hour, Alice glared and squinted and glowered and scowled. She looked cross-eyed and cock-eyed. She concentrated and fixated and meditated and pondered. Alice ruminated and scrutinized and contemplated. Until finally, every last chess piece on the board was running around and calling out to its friends.

 

(Image information: "Chessmen" by  John Tenniel, 1871.)

Alice was quite delighted with herself, and now that all of the chess pieces were reunited together again, they were quite pleased as well. They whiled away the afternoon together in pleasurable companionship.

Alice and the chess pieces grew quite close throughout the afternoon, and Alice grew sad when darkness came and her little friends became stone again.

"Well, at least for once," Alice said, "my life wasn't quite so boring."


Author's Note: This story is inspired by the Chess Pieces part of Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carrol, 1871. With this retelling, I really wanted to play around with Carrol's writing style because I think it's so enchanting. His word choice really makes for enjoyable stories. So I tried my best to emulate that.

Week 10 Storytelling: Minerva and her Polar Bear Son

Once upon a time, there was an old woman named Minerva, who had never married. She had no family left to support her, and so often, she went hungry.

But sometimes, the young hunters in the community would bring her meat to eat, and they would tell her about their great adventures.

One day, when the hunters brought the regular meat and stories, they brought something new along with them.

When the short woman with completely gray hair opened her front door, three young men stood on the snow-covered steps holding a polar bear cub!

 

(Image information: "Polar Bear" by Alan D. Wilson, 2007.)

"Awwe, what a dear little thing," Minerva said. "Where is his mother?"

The hunters brought the cub into Minerva's house, and she brewed tea for everyone. She found some old blankets to wrap around the cub and the little bear quickly fell asleep.

"Unfortunately, Ms. Minerva, we shot and killed the cub's mother. We didn't know it was a mother bear when she shot it, and we've very sorry. We thought that maybe you would want some company. So we brought the bear here," one of the hunters said.

"Well, that's a very strange form of company, but I'll give it a try," she said.

The hunters left the cub with Minerva, and over the years, the cub grew up. It spent so much time playing with Minerva and the village children that the cub developed the brain of a human.

Neither Minerva nor the cub wanted for anything because the village folk were so taken with the cub that they often brought food and clothes and toys for him.

The bear grew stronger and stronger, and Minerva would have to remind her bear cub to be gentle with the village children.

Once Minerva and the hunters thought the bear was ready, the hunters took the cub out to hunt with them one day. It took a little practice, but once the bear got the hang of sniffing out the prey, he was a very useful helper.

But a scary thing happened that day. Another group of hunters who didn't know about the pet polar bear tried to shoot at the cub with their bows and arrows. All of the village hunters were very upset, and they yelled at the other group of hunters. Thankfully, the cub wasn't hurt.

The hunters asked Minerva to fashion a special collar for the polar bear so that everyone near and far would know that he was special. She wove together several sinews and placed the collar around his neck.

From then on, when ever he went hunting, the bear received many compliments from the people he encountered, and he was very happy with his life as a hunting helper and as a companion to Minerva.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by "The Woman Who Had A Bear As A Foster-Son," from the Eskimo Folk-Tales book by Knud Rasmussen, 1921. I kept this story very close to the original, except that I gave the old woman a name, and I changed the ending. In the ending of the original story, the old woman tells the polar bear that she is worried that if he stays with her, he will be killed. So she urges him to find somewhere else. The bear leaves, and Minerva never sees him again. I thought this was a very sad ending, and I also found it kind of pointless because the old woman made him a special collar to protect him.

Storytelling for Week 9: Rose Fairy

Once upon a time, there was a Native American girl named Rose. She was only two months shy of turning eighteen, and then she would have to get married.

Her mother and father loved her dearly and only wanted the best for her. They had spoken with the parents of Running Bull about an impending wedding. Running Bull was nineteen and a hunter. All he cared about was tracking animals, killing animals, and eating animals. Rose got tired of hearing about it.

Their tribe lived in a field that brushed up against the woods. Tepees and fire pits dotted the area, and the tribe members worked merrily at gardening, crafting, and preparing food.

But when Rose wasn't supposed to be helping her mother weave baskets, Rose sneaked off into the forest to look for the tiny fairies. She had heard stories about the miniscule species growing up. They left little footprints in the soft sand by the brook in the forest. They wove ropes from grasses and coaxed lightning bugs to land on them to make garlands of twinkling lights.

Rose was entranced by the evidence that the fairies left, but she had never seen any.

"Rose, darling, if you spent more time with Running Bull and less time wandering around in the woods, you might like Running Bull more," Rose's mother said.

Rose just rolled her eyes. No matter how much time she spent with Running Bull, she would never like him.

"Mother, do you believe in the fairies?" Rose asked to change the subject.

"I heard the stories about them when I was a girl, but it's hard for me to believe in something I cannot see, Rose," her mother said.

"If I could show you the fairies and how much they mean to me, would you not make me marry Running Bull?" Rose asked.

Rose hoped that her mother would find the deal so farfetched that she would agree to it, and she got her wish.

From then on, she spent even more time in the woods searching for the fairies. She didn't have much time to prove her mother wrong.

On the day of Rose and Running Bull's wedding, Rose stole off into the forest during her last hour before the wedding. The guests were already dressed and waiting for the ceremony to start.

Rose ran through the woods in her flowing white wedding dress. She wore a crown of flowers in her hair. She had to find the fairies.

"Come out! Come out!" she called.

Suddenly, she stopped. As if the fairies had finally understood the urgency of her request, one appeared to her.

(Image information: "Fairies Looking Through a Gothic Arch" by John Anster Fitzgerald 1864.)

He was only about eighteen inches tall. He had raggedy brown hair that hung in his eyes, ivory skin, and deep green eyes. His translucent wings stretched far above his head.

 Rose fell in love with him instantly.

The fairy reached out his hand to Rose, and when she took it, she began to shrink. When she, too, was only eighteen inches tall, the two ran off into the woods together.

And Rose was never seen from again. But every year on her mothers birthday, she wove a rope of grasses and hung miniscule woven baskets.


Author's Note: This story is inspired by "The Fairy Bride" from American Indian Fairy Tales by W.T. Larned, with illustrations by John Rae 1921.  In the original, Neen-i-zu is supposed to marry a hunter, but she doesn't want to and spends most of her time daydreaming about the fairies. In the end, she does become a fairy. But the rest of the story seemed very slow and passive to me. So in my story, I gave the main girl a more active goal in trying to prove the existence of the fairies in order to get out of an arranged marriage. I chose to retell this story because I really liked the imagery of the fairies.

Week 7 Storytelling: Fuxia and The Ogre

Once upon a time, an old run-down pagoda barely remained standing in the outskirts of a small town in China. It was once a beautiful red, but now the paint was peeling from five stories.

Closer to the center of that small town, there lived a beautiful young girl named Fuxia. One day, she met a handsome young man who was strolling by her home. He was tall, dark, and handsome - as every good fairytale hero should be.

"Dear girl," he called out to Fuxia. "I've never seen a woman as beautiful as you are in my whole life! Would you come on an adventure with me?"

Because it was hot and Fuxia was bored, she agreed to go exploring with the man. Soon after, they arrived at the foot of the pagoda.

 

(Image information: "Kaijusen-ji's Five-storied Pagoda" by 633highland 2006.)

"Wouldn't it be adventurous to climb up to the very top?" he asked.

Fuxia was a little nervous about climbing that many steps, but she had nothing better to do. So the young man and Fuxia went inside the pagoda and climbed. Fuxia huffed and puffed. Her calves ached, and her back grew weary. At long last, they reached the top. From so far up, they could see miles in every direction. The Chinese countryside was beautiful and lush and captivated Fuxia's attention.

While Fuxia was distracted, the man began to climb down without her! And as he did so, he took the steps with him until she was trapped on top of the old pagoda.

"Stop! Come back!" Fuxia called. But as she watched the man leave, he changed into a hideous ogre! He gnashed yellow teeth and glared with red eyes. He had terrible green horns that protruded from his bald yellow head. Fuxia was terrified.

She was trapped on that pagoda for weeks. Each day the ogre would bring her food to eat, and she would have to endure the sight of his true form.

But one day, another young man walked by the pagoda. She called down to him frantically, and when he saw her stuck up there, he vowed to save her. This man was very fit and very brave, and he knew he could rescue her.

Just then, the ogre came tromping through the trees. The rescuer hid and surprised the ogre. He bravely fought the ogre and cut off his head with his sword. 

Then the brave man went to find a very tall ladder, and propping the ladder up against the pagoda, he climbed up to rescue Fuxia.

She was so pleased to be free, and the young man was so pleased to have helped her that he proposed on the spot, and she said yes.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by "The Maiden Who Was Stolen Away" from The Chinese Fairy Book, which was edited by R. Wilhelm and translated by Frederick H. Martens (1921). In the original, she is blown away by a cyclone and blown into the path of the ogre, who traps her on the pagoda because she won't marry him. And the rescuer is the girl's brother in the original. I changed it because I wanted this to be a love story after all.

Storytelling Week 6: The Miniature Mermaid

Once upon a time, a young man loved to spend all of his time at the beach. His name was Ian, and he made sandcastles, collected shells, and took long walks up and down the shore. But most of all, he snorkeled in the shallow waters to look at the sea creatures. Fish darted past colored all the shades of the rainbow. Tiny crabs clicked their claws at him, and pink sea anemones waved in the gentle water.

Ian was obsessed with the placid nature and tiny stature of the sea life he observed, and the only thing he wanted in the world was to become like the sea creatures he watched.

One day, after he had slipped on his mask and snorkel, he was skimming through the shallow water when he saw a new creature, one he had never laid eyes on before. But he knew what he was looking at because he'd heard his grandmother tell stories about them.

 

(Image Information: "Portrait of a Mermaid" by CaperGirl42.)

 The miniature mermaid wore shimmering shells in her iridescent hair, and where her legs should have been, she had a green-scaled tale. She was the most beautiful sea creature Ian had ever laid eyes on.

The mermaid acted as though she wanted to speak to him but was afraid of his giant-like size. And so Ian got an idea. If he could only shrink his body down to her size, then surly they would fall in love and live happily ever after! Ian tried to explain this genius plan to her before waving and swimming off.

Back on shore, he knew who he needed to speak to about his situation. His grandmother's knowledge of mermaids was extensive, but she was also quick to make a potion to heal your ailments.

Ian hurried to his grandmother's house to explain his predicament. His grandmother's white hair was combed into a neat bun, and she listened attentively as he spoke.

Once he had finished his tale of true love, his grandmother said, "My dear Ian, what should happen if I shrink you, and then this mermaid doesn't fall in love with you? Will you be happy in the ocean alone?"

That thought hadn't even crossed Ian's mind. He was young, muscled, and handsome. Why wouldn't she fall in love with him? But to appease his grandmother, he enthusiastically told her yes because he loved to watch the sea creatures before he even met the mermaid.

With that, his grandmother presented him with a shrinking potion and gave him a hug goodbye. Ian hurried back to the white sand beaches and the clear blue waters. He swallowed the vial of blue potion in one gulp, and instantly, he shrunk down to three inches tall.

Gleeful, he hopped in the water and swam to find his mermaid love. Once he spotted her, he waved frantically. She swam up to him, her eyebrows crinkled.

"Why did you become so small?" she asked.

"I became small because I had to tell you I was in love with you," Ian said.

"With me?" she asked.

He nodded vigorously.

"Well, if you're in love with me, then you should fetch me something to eat."

Ian happily went and found her some seaweed to eat. When he returned, she had another task for him. On and on this continued, until the mermaid had entirely changed Ian's conception of what true love was. He now believed that he was put on this earth to serve his mermaid day and night, and he was happy to do so.

In the end, Ian got what he wanted because he became small like the sea creatures he adored, and the mermaid got what she wanted because she was tired of always having to do her chores. But no one was in love with anyone else.

Author's Note: This story is very loosely based on The Labors of Yamato, in which he finds a woman in a sea grotto and falls in love with her. She says he must prove his love by finding the golden apple. This proves very difficult for him, but once he finally accomplishes it, he brings it to her. In return she steals his sword, and never loves him, and Yamato returns to his wife. The Labors of Yamato is part of The Romance of Old Japan, Part 1: Mythology and Legend by E. W. Champney and F. Champney (1917).

I chose to tell this story in Ian's awestruck manner about the sea life because the creatures are so beautiful. My main goal was to paint a picture of the ocean in the reader's mind. I chose to keep the way the mermaid tricked the man, but I removed the man's wife as a character because I didn't like that she was cheated on.

Week 5 Storytelling: The Wizard's Apprentice

Once upon a time, there was a teenage boy who idolized wizards and magic. The boy, Ethan, had grown up reading wonderful stories about witches and wizards and the magnificent quests they journeyed on. He had obsessed about their vast powers and enchanting spells. All Ethan wanted out of life was to become a wizard.

But the wizards he read about we old, and he was young. Most wizards had long gray beards, and he couldn't get a single hair to grow on his chin. But most importantly of all, the wizards he read about could do magic, and Ethan had no magical abilities.

Until one day, he was at the market with his mother, and Ethan saw an old man with a long gray beard. As Ethan watched, the wizard made a dove disappear. Ethan's jaw dropped. He had found a wizard at last!

(Image Information: "Wizard Gray Magician" uploaded by OpenClips 2013.)

Ethan went running up to the wizard and begged the wizened man to teach him how to perform magic. The wizard happily took on an apprentice because he was growing old and sore. The wizard taught Ethan all he had ever dreamed of. He learned to perform transfiguration, to concoct potions, to speak to beasts, and to move objects around at his will.

Once the wizard had taught Ethan everything he had to teach, he presented a final test for Ethan.

"If you have truly been a good apprentice and learned everything you could, you will be able to turn me into a beautiful staff and sell me at an auction," the wizard instructed. "But keep one small gem from the staffs handle in order to turn me back."

Ethan nodded enthusiastically, and with a wave of his hand, his master became a gleaming gold staff, plated with rubies and sapphires. He carefully plucked a single sapphire from the staff and pocketed it before carrying the staff to the nearest auction.

The staff was very popular and sold for 10,000 gold coins. Ethan was very excited and was sure this would please his master.

With the displaced sapphire in his hand, Ethan waved again and his master became a human again. The auctioneer and the bidders were very angry at the loss of the golden staff, but Ethan could run very quickly. He took the 10,000 gold coins, and calling to his master to follow him, Ethan high-tailed it out of the auction house.

But because the wizard was old and frail and was still recovering from the transfiguration, he couldn't run fast enough and was swarmed by the angry mob of bidders.

Once Ethan had escaped, he turned back, expecting to see his master. But the wizard was no where to be seen.

"Oh no! What have I done?" Ethan lamented.

A little white dove landed on his shoulder and cooed reassuringly.

"Don't fret my dear wizard, your master was old and his time had come. He only wanted to leave you with money to support yourself before he crossed on to the next life. Rejoice at your good fortune, and morn your master respectfully."

With this the dove flew away, leaving Ethan rightfully grieved but also pleased with his good fortune. He had become a wizard at last.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by The Wizard and His Pupil , from the Forty-Four Turkish Fairy Tales book by Ignacz Kunos, with illustrations by Willy Pogany from 1913. In the original story, the young boy keeps running away from school and begs to be the pupil of a wizard. The wizard teaches the boy how to transform things, and they essentially have competitions to see who is better at magic. In the end, the boy turns himself into grain, and the wizard turns himself into a rooster to eat up all the grain. But the boy turns back into a human quickly and rings the roosters neck.

In my version, one of my mains goals was that I wanted to have the apprentice and the wizard get along better. So I chose to tell it in a more awestruck manner than the tricky way the original is told. But I liked the death scene at the end of the story. So I had the wizard sacrifice himself for the boy's happiness.

Week 4 Storytelling: The Second Chance Wedding

Once upon a time, near the river bank, a husband and wife had a beautiful daughter, Tiana. She had long, dark curly hair and skin the color of milk chocolate. She was of an age to wed, and many men pursued her. There were three men in particular who made the strongest advances, Anthony, Paul, and Colin.

The suitors would bring Tiana gifts of sweets and flowers, and the young people would spend many evenings lounging and laughing on Tiana's front porch. Over time, Tiana became close friends with all three men, and she didn't know how she would ever choose just one to marry.

But one day, Tiana tragically fell ill. The suitor were not allowed to visit her on her death bed because she was terribly contagious. Tiana's parents wept because her condition wasn't improving. A few days later, Tiana died, and the news was brought to Anthony, Paul, and Colin.

The three men all grieved together because surely they would have rather she pick a suitor other than themselves than die at such a young age.

At Tiana's funeral, the three young men all performed tasks to honor her memory. Anthony was one of the pall-bearers, who carried her casket up the aisle of the beautifully adorned church. Paul gave a touching speech about all of the good times the young lovers had spent together. Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke. But at the end of the funeral, Colin refused to leave Tiana's side. Many friends and family members tried to pull him away and out of the church. But no one prevailed. His grief was too strong, and he felt it in such a physical way that he couldn't leave her.

That night, Colin slept in the church next to her coffin. The old church creaked eerily during the night. But nothing would sway him from his duty to Tiana.

In the morning, an angel appeared to Colin. The angel was translucent white and hovered a few inches above the floor.

"Colin," the angel said, "You have shown true devotion to your one and only love. A father figure could carry his daughter's casket up the aisle, and any friend or family member could make a heartfelt speech at her funeral. But only her true lover would spend all night with her in a creaky church. To honor your great devotion, lift the lid of the coffin and reunite with your bride."

Wiping tears from his eyes, Colin stood and opened the casket. Upon doing so, Tiana happily sat up and began to climb out. She was wearing a beautiful lace wedding dress with a long, elegant train.

(Image information: "Bride Marriage Wedding Dress" uploaded by GloriaAgostina.) 

Colin wrapped her in his arms and spun her around and around. Before they knew it, the church had filled with wedding guests, the coffin had disappeared, and wedding bells were ringing.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by "The Three Lovers Who Brought The Dead Girl to Life. Whose Wife Should She Be?" from the collection Twenty-Two Goblins, translated by Arthur W. Ryder with illustrations by Perham W. Nahl (1917).

In the original story, there are a lot of Indian customs involved in how the suitors bring the girl back to life. One suitor dips her bones in a river, another used magic, and a third kept her ashes. I chose to tell this story in a more simple way to make it more realistic than the original. My main goals for this story were to evoke emotions of loss contrasted with joy.

Storytelling for Week 3: The Honest Oxen

On a dusty road, a team of oxen pulled a cart full of corn to the marketplace to sell. The oxen were as red as Oklahoma dirt with a few white splotches. They had strong horns that curled up high into the air. They were built to be working animals, and they wore a yoke over their necks that connected them to the cart of corn.

The oxen's sole job was to pull the cart for their master. So when the yoke suddenly broke one day, the oxen began to cry out for help.

"If we cannot work, we won't be fed," Mr. Ox said.

"Without our yoke, we're useless!" his wife lamented.

(Image information: "Young Oxen" from Wikimedia Commons.)

Because they couldn't pull the cart any further, they stopped in their tracks and worried. They were very concerned about where their next meal was going to come from.

Just then, Mercury, the messenger god, descended from the skies on his winged sandals. He wore a yellow tunic and a winged helmet. He produced a golden yoke from thin air, and in an attempt to comfort the worried oxen, he presented it to them.

"This must be the yoke that you have lost!" Mercury said triumphantly.

The couple of oxen sadly shook their heads.

"No," Mr. Ox said, "our yoke certainly wasn't made of gold."

Mercury's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. He had never met such an honest creature before.

Next he showed them a silver yoke.

"I see that I was mistaken before," Mercury said. "But surely, this is the yoke you have been missing."

Again, the married oxen shook their heads in disappointment.

"No," Mrs. Ox said, "our yoke also wasn't made of silver."

Mercury bit the inside of his cheek in contemplation. Why were these oxen so trustworthy?

Finally, he held out the actual yoke that belonged to the couple. Mercury had repaired it.

"That's our yoke!" Mrs. Ox cried.

She hopped forward happily.

Mercury helped the pair of oxen put their yoke back on.

"Thank you so much for repairing our dear old yoke," Mr. Ox said.

"It was my pleasure, Mrs. and Mr. Ox. And I must say that I've never met such an honest couple in my life! I expect most creatures would have claimed the golden or silver yoke."

"Oh no," Mr. Ox said, "we have no use of a fancy yoke. We just need one that helps us do our work."

With that, the oxen couple happily continued on their way to the marketplace with their cart of corn.

For many months after that when people heard the story, they purposefully lost an item in hopes of tricking Mercury into giving them something better. But Mercury was never fooled, and instead, he taught those dishonest folks a lesson.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by Mercury and The Woodman from The Aesop for Children with illustrations by Milo Winter (1919). In the original, a woodman loses his ax, and when Mercury tries to give him a golden one, the woodman explains that's not his. This goes on until the woodman has his original ax back, and Mercury gives him the gold and silver ones as gifts for being honest. I chose to make the main characters animals because I read so many fables about animals this week. I liked how honest the woodman was, and I wanted to retain that quality of the story.

Storytelling for Week 2: Abigail and the China Doll

At a modern French boarding school, there lived a little girl named Abigail. She had curly blonde hair held back in two plaits, and her plain blue dress accented her light eyes. She loved her teachers and her lessons. She was only required to take six classes, but she skillfully balanced nine.

"Now girls, who can tell me the colors of the French flag in order?" Ms. Martine asked the class one day.

Abigail's hand shot up into the musty air of the damp classroom before any of the others.

After she politely waited for Ms. Martine to call on her, Abigail said, "Blue, white, and red, mademoiselle."

"Correct," Ms. Martine said.

Abigail had already answered the question before the other girls had had a chance to consider it. Eleven little pairs of beady eyes glared at her as she beamed with the warmth of Ms. Martine's approval.

This was a regular occurrence for Abigail, and over time, her classmates grew to disgust her. They were jealous of her motivation, exceptional grades, and the relationship she had with Ms. Martine.

The other girls made fun of her and pulled her hair.

"Abigail's a teacher's pet," Fleur jeered.

"She doesn't have any friends," Selina called, yanking on Abigail's braid as Selina marched by.

The jealous girls tried to get Abigail in trouble by messing up her bed right before inspections, hiding her homework, and undoing her chores. At first, House Mistress Karlotta was livid with Abigail for breaking the rules. But then, House Mistress Karlotta began to catch the other girls in the act.

No matter what the students did to sway Abigail's popularity with the teachers, Abigail's reputation always prevailed.

Then one day, the school girls contrived a brilliant plan. They would take Ms. Martine's treasured glass doll, and smash her on the stairs just as Abigail was coming up.

So Fleur pushed a chair up to the forbidden shelf in Ms. Martine's office and took the pretty china doll with the rosy cheeks and perfectly curled blonde hair. She carefully smoothed her flowery dress.

(Image information: Shirley Temple Doll by C.E. Price.)

Then, the girls all in a tizzy, they ran down the hallway to wait for Abigail by the stairs. When they heard her cheery voice singing a nursery rhyme, they knew she was drawing close. Just before she rounded the landing of the stairs, Fleur threw the doll down with a shattering crash. The girls ran away, tittering over Abigail's misfortune.

"Oh, no!" Abigail cried as she took stock of the doll's broken pieces. She carefully picked each one up and tried to reassemble the doll, but the pieces merely fell once more.

Meanwhile, the other girls had fetched Ms. Martine to show her what Abigail had done to the poor doll.

But when Ms. Martine and the girls arrived on the scene, they found Abigail seated cross-legged in the landing, carefully gluing all of the doll's pieces back into place.

Ms. Martine knew from the concerned look on Abigail's face that there was no way she could have harmed the doll.

In the end, the other girls learned their lesson and were encouraged to make friends with Abigail. The china doll was repaired and looked almost as good as new. And Abigail and Ms. Martine remained fast friends.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by Saint Kentigern and the Robin by Abbie Farwell Brown (1900). In that story, Saint Kentigern is bullied by his schoolmates, and they try to get him in trouble for killing their teacher's pet robin. But through the grace of God, Saint Kentigern brings the robin back to life, and all is well.

I chose to tell this story from the point of view of the little girl to contrast the mean bullying with Abigail's innocence. So I changed the characters and the teacher's item that gets destroyed, but I kept the schoolhouse setting and the themes of jealousy and bullying. My main goals for this story were to make it entertaining and easy for the reader to identify with.

Week 1 Storytelling: The Raven Who Wanted White Feathers

On a sunny summer day, a Raven flew high over Briar's Pond and glimpsed a Swan relaxing in the water. The sunlight reflected off the Swan's brilliant white feathers, and the Raven became envious of the Swan's beauty.

He circled the pond, and came to rest in a pine tree. He peered over his shoulder to examine his own black feathers and was suddenly disgusted by the drab color.

From afar, he watched the Swan in order to figure out how the Raven could develop such a wonderful white coat. He observed as the Swan neatly snipped off pieces of water reeds with his beak and cocked his head back to swallow them down. The Swan splashed playfully in the crystal clear water and swallowed some of it.

After making several mental notes, the Raven decided he was ready to make his transformation. The Raven flew to the water and landed in it with a satisfactory splash. He tried paddling with his feet to stay afloat, but without the webbed feet of the Swan, the Raven quickly began to sink. Panicking, he swallowed some of the clear water like he had seen the Swan do. But this only made him sink faster and made the sputtering worse.

(Milo Winter's illustration of "A Raven and A Swan" (1919)

The Raven dragged himself to shore, assuring himself that once he had completed the routine, he would feel better and his feathers would change to match the Swan's lovely snow white. The Raven bit off pieces of the water reeds and struggled to swallow the coarse food.

Stomach rumbling and exhausted from his near drowning, the Raven waited for his feather's to transform. He tried squeezing his eyes shut. He attempted waddling as he had seen the Swan do. He even tried filling his beak with water a few more times.

But he did not prevail.

With a heavy heart, the Raven left Briar's Pond to the Swan and returned to the skies.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by Aesop's Fable "A Raven and A Swan," as seen in Aesop for Children, illustrated by Milo Winter (1919). In the original, a Raven was jealous of a Swan's gorgeous white feathers, and so the Raven tried imitating the Swan's routine in hopes of changing the color of his feathers. Obviously, he was unsuccessful and perished from a poor diet. I kept the Raven in my story alive to learn more lessons in the future. The moral of both stories is that one cannot change his nature simply by altering his habits.