Week 7 Storytelling: The Poetess Princess

Her life seemed like a fairytale. She was the beautiful child of Prince Toyonari Fujiwara and Princess Murasaki, two loving, kind people who treated their daughter with great affection and respect. What more could a little girl ask for? Everything was wonderful for little Princess Hase-Hime, until that time came to a fleeting stop when she was only five years of age and her mother fell ill, her time cut short in this world.

Hase-Hime was left with her mother’s dying wishes to become a strong, obedient girl. When her father remarried a noble woman, Princess Terute, and took her and her son into their home, Princess Murasaki’s request would be put to the test, for Princess Terute was an evil woman with a heart of cruelty and jealousy for the little girl that was not hers.

“Hase-Hime, after dinner you will finish your chores. Clean the dishes, mop the floors, do the laundry, and go to bed afterwards. You will have more to do tomorrow,” Princess Terute smugly commanded.

Confused, Hase-Hime responded, “But Stepmother, I already mopped the floors.”

“Well do it again and do not call me Stepmother! You are no child of mine.”

And so Hase-Hime obeyed, mopping the floors a second time, cleaning the dishes, doing the laundry, and retiring to bed. In her bedroom far from the halls of her parents and sibling, she dabbled in poetry and music. It was a comfort to her to be able to record her prayers and ideas in the arts and she excelled at it quickly from a young age. When her Stepmother forgot her existence on busy days, Hase-Hime spent hours practicing with her Father on the koto, a Japanese harp, and in perfecting her poetic verses. By the time she was twelve, she was a master in both and word of her grand performances reached even the most royal of places, the Emperor in the Palace.

To be requested to play before him was a dream for little Hase-Hime, but it was a dream none-the-less and often remained so. Princess Terute had dreams of her own and far more power to carry them out. Escorted by her Stepmother to the Palace, Hase-Hime fell in awe at the splendor of the architecture and the pure essence of the noble realm. Musicians played in the courtyards, royal children frolicked in the gardens, and the sun overhead twinkled down on everything in a way she had never imagined possible.

They were lead to the audience chamber where the Emperor sat idly on his throne. Princess Terute bowed deeply to him and following her example, Hase-Hime complied.

“I have brought her, your Highness. She is a fine musician and poetess and will be an excellent addition to your entertainment,” Princess Terute said.

“And what say her father? He has agreed to her release to my command?” The Emperor inquired, much to Hase-Hime’s surprise.

“Of course, Majesty. The paperwork is all here.”

After the exchange of paperwork, Princess Terute gave her stepchild one final glance with victory gleaming in her eyes. Without so much as a smile, she turned and departed from the audience chamber, leaving Hase-Hime stranded before the will of the Emperor. Her dream was shattered, the realization of what this all meant dawning upon her as she was led away to a new home in the highest tower in the farthest corner of the Palace.

There, Hase-Hime performed her arts for many years. She perfected her harp playing and although she was never allowed to play for an audience herself, she wrote songs for the courtyard musicians to play in order to honor the Emperor. Her poetry was read far and wide, epics that would forever be remembered even past her time, but it was not for her to read, only hers to write. The Emperor had seized her talents for his own, selfish use, but she had grown to be an obedient, strong girl as her mother had wished.

Her family did not visit. They did not write. Hase-Hime often wondered about her father, whether he was safe and happy. In another world, perhaps her mother would have lived and they could have all lived together as a happy family. Perhaps her poetry and her music would have been hers alone, to give to the world, to create happiness in people’s lives. But it was not another world she lived in, for Hase-Hime was born to this world full of greed and cruelty and she was a slave to the master of her chains. She was born a beautiful flower, but envied and put in a glass case.

On the nights she felt alone and sad with tears in her eyes, void of hope, she would sit at the single window of her small room and look up at the stars, so bright in the open night sky. She would do as her mother often did and whisper a prayer to them, longing for their protection.

“Please save me,” she prayed softly.

Thus, the constellation of Princess Hase-Hime was formed, forever imprinted in the night sky.

The Hase-Hime Constellation.

(Image Information: "Golden Time" by Jinterwas. Web Source: Flickr.)

Author’s Note: In the original of The Story of PrincessHase, Hase-Hime does lose her mother and her father remarries an evil woman who treats her poorly. But Hase-Hime is a kind and wonderful girl, excelling in poetry and music, so she bares her stepmothers cruelty with respect. After she excels in the arts, the story ends with the Emperor summoning her to the Palace to play. I changed the ending of the story in order to put this in my storybook, where the princess does not have a happy ending.

Bibliography: “The Story of Princess Hase.” Japanese Fairy Tales by Yei Theodora Ozaki (1908). Web Source: Here.

Week 6 Storytelling: The Beast of the Man

Once upon time, there was a large family in a small quaint town. There lived a father, mother, and seven daughters. The father was a selfish man whereas his wife was as selfless as can be. One evening, the father stumbled upon seven wild duck eggs, but he hid them from his family because his greed knew no bounds.

During the next morning, his wife happened to find his hidden eggs and cooked them for their seven daughters as their hungry was vast and their wallet thin. After being fed, the girls napped and the wife set about her daily chores.

Alas, their father woke and upon finding his eggs eaten, he called for his wife.

“Where did my eggs go?” He demanded.

“Why, I fed them to the girls, darling. They were so very hungry,” responded his loving wife.

Furious that he was unable to enjoy the fruit of his findings, he woke the sleeping girls with a roar of anger, demanding they get dressed and hurry outside to meet him. After standing on the porch for some time, only the smallest and youngest two girls arrived at the front.

“Where are your sisters?” The Father asked angrily.

“They told us they would not come,” replied the youngest.

“Well then we will go to grandmother’s house together.”

Thus, he took the two youngest girls and drove them to the mountains, but it was not grandmother’s house they arrived at. Instead, he dropped the girls off by the roadside and went on his way. Abandoned, the girls set out to look for shelter.

Further in the mountains was a cave with light inside. The light shined off the treasures they found there, jewels and stones of every kind known to man. The two girls stared in awe at the glimmering wonders before them and exhausted from their journey, they sought a comfortable place and fell asleep.

The next morning, however, the owners of the cave returned. The cave belonged to two various devious friends, the Wolf and the Fox. They stopped at the mouth of the cave and sniffed the air, growling upon finding the scent of intruders. Their growls woke the girls, who shouted in terror before the wolf and the fox pounced upon them and devoured them.

The father, utterly distraught that he left his girls alone in the wilderness, went to search for them that day but never found them. He returned home a broken man, defeated by his own anger and selfishness.

The wolf.

(Image Information: Walking Wolf by Ellie Attebery (2011). Web Source: Flickr.)

Author’s Note: In the original of The Cave of the Beasts, the father is angry that his wife gave the eggs to their daughters and he does abandon the two youngest girls in the mountains. They find the cave of treasures but are able to defeat the wolf and fox, and then when the father finds them, he rejoices because they return home wealthy. I decided to make the ending a little darker and realistic, whereas the father suffers because of his horrible choices and no riches are found. He has to accept the consequences of his actions.

Bibliography: “The Cave of the Beasts.” The Chinese Fairy Book, ed. By R. Wilhelm and translated by Frederick H. Martens (1921). Web Source: The Cave of the Beasts.

Week 5 Storytelling: The Baker's Apprentice

This is a story of karma and revenge.

So stay a while and listen, friend.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you,

Because in this world there are kindness in few.

The young lad kicked a rock down the road, shuffling his poorly dressed feet. He had just finished his handy work at the mill, sifting flour for the town baker. It did not pay well or keep his family fed, but it was the only work he could find at the time. Every penny counts, his mother was always saying.

Every day he took this path, walking past the more expensive homes made of brick, chimneys peeping from the tops of the roofs and horses in the stables. If only his father could afford a horse, the perhaps his feet would not hurt so much from this walk to and from town. Perhaps the baker would find new work for him soon, work that would allow him to sit down and relax until the blisters healed.

As the boy arrived home, he dumped his coins into the funds bucket and piled his dirty clothes on the porch. Mother would take care of them in the evening. Exhausted, he threw himself on the hard couch and fell asleep after a long day.

The next morning, the young lad returned to his routine, but today was a special day because a traveling merchant had ridden into town. The baker nearly shook the boy to death with excitement.

“Lad, you look after my shop! I’m off to find riches!” The baker exclaimed.

The Baker's Bread.

(Image Information: Breads by Scott Bauer, U.S. Department of Agriculture (2013). Web Source: Wikimedia Commons.)

Knowing this was his chance, the lad put his best effort forward in keeping the shop tidy and welcoming customers as they stopped by. Luckily his mother taught him a few tricks of the trade, such as reading, writing, and counting money. The day went by smoothly, but the baker did not return.

“I wonder where he is,” thought the lad.

He closed the shop and set out to find the man. Surprised to find him nearly drowned near the river, he pulled the baker to safety and took him home, helped him to bed and sat nearby after lighting the fire.

“Sir, what happened?” The lad asked curiously.

“That old Merchant took me for a fool, lad… He left me to die in a valley and only by the mercy of the little fish I feed with our leftovers did I manage to survive the river.”

The lad was stunned that someone so cruel could come to their town. The baker was a hardworking man and the lad was ashamed that anyone would take advantage of him. He left the baker to rest with warm soup and a blazing fire. While hatching a plan, he took off towards home. Revenge could wait until morning.

The next day, the young boy found the hotel the rich Merchant slept in for his stay. He knocked at the man’s door three times and waited patiently.

“Who are you?” The Merchant asked suspiciously after he cracked the door.

“Sir, I know you are brave and cunning. The townsfolk are all talking about your adventures! I heard about a place where treasures can be found, but I don’t have the means to travel there.”

The Merchant quickly welcomed the lad in and began packing for their immediate departure. The boy knew that he would not be able to resist the temptation of gold and treasure.

After traveling for an hour, the two rounded up the path the baker had described with the valley where he had been left for dead. The Merchant was at the edge of his seat on the trolley, nearly bursting with the excitement of another scheme. When the valley came into view, he seemed puzzled.

“Where are the treasures, boy?” He snapped.

“There is no treasure,” the lad responded. “This is where you took all of it yesterday and left my baker friend to die.”

The lad smiled and suddenly pushed the Merchant off the side of their transportation. He watched the man tumble down the slope and into the river, where the fish could always use a meal.

After turning to the hotel where the man kept his belongings, the lad scooped up all the treasure and took it to the baker. There, without any questions asked, the baker and the lad rejoiced and the Merchant was never heard from again. The townsfolk assumed he had moved on to his next adventure.

Least to say, the Merchant got what he deserved.

Author’s Note: In The Story of the Baker and the GratefulFish, the Baker is the main character and he is deceived by a traveling Merchant into helping gather treasure. The Merchant leaves him for dead and the Baker decides death by drowning would be easier. Fortunately, the Baker always fed the fish in the river with his burnt foods and so the fish considered him a friend and saved him. The Baker tricks the Merchant and takes him back to the place where the treasure is, tells him the only way back is the river, and the Merchant drowns. In my version, I put an outside character into the story and changed it up. I felt like it would be fun to have another perspective to read it from.

Bibliography: “The Story of the Baker and the Grateful Fish.” Persian Tales translated by D.L.R. Lorimer and E.O. Lorimer and illustrated by Hilda Roberts (1919). Web Source: Persian Tales.

Storytelling for Week 4: He Who Seeks Fear

The three magical maidens watched him from afar, wondering what it was about this particular young man that he seemed to know no fear. Not once in their lifetime had they witnessed such a mortal being. In fact, the three maidens often spent their time amusing themselves through scaring wandering men and women. They had heard of the youth from a bird. The bird overheard him speaking to his mother one night about what it was to be afraid, to which the bird quickly returned to its informants.

The maidens were very excited as the youth traveled in search of fear. The first maiden, disguised as a pigeon, followed him closely as he approached the gang of robbers, folk she often tormented through her ghastly disguise.

“I am seeking fear,” the boy commented.

Fear he would surely find, thought the maiden as she took her ghostly form in the nearby cemetery. As the youth began to make the sweets per the robbers’ instructions, she reached out with her transparent hand. To her surprise, he struck her with the spoon! Howling in pain, the maiden took off.

The Ghostly Hand

(Image Information: Ghost Mouth painting by Tokwa Peñaflorida. 2014. Source: Wikimedia Commons.)

The second maiden heard of the first maiden’s failure, surprised to see the woman muttering about in the gardens. It was time for a true terror professional to attempt this challenge! Thus, the second maiden took off in joy, ready to show the other two women that it took a real trickster to win this one.

On the raised platform, the second maiden sat in the swing for a moment, pretending to weep in sorrow. As the young man approached, she took off running towards the room to greet him.

“You saw the child crying? Raise me upon your shoulders so that I may comfort her,” she requested.

Upon his shoulders, she twisted her legs around his throat until he fell backwards gasping for breath. She tumbled away from him, surprised that even at the brink of death, he was not afraid. It was a challenge she knew she could not defeat. 

Returning to the gardens, she sighed. Only then did the second maiden realize she lost her bracelet, won off some old fool that she easily spooked.

The third maiden was astonished. Truly the youth could not be mortal if he was afraid of neither ghost nor suffocation! Her hand must play a part in defeating the young lad, she thought.

The little bird told the third maiden where to find the man, and after moments of consideration, she dove into the sea and took the form of a large sea creature. Shaking the vessels in the water, she taunted the youth, but he quickly dove in after her and fended her off by flogging her. She grimaced and returned to the garden.

All three maidens walked to the fountain and sat down, discussing their adventures with the lad.

“The youth feared naught even as a hand reached out!” chimed the first.

“The youth feared naught even as I strangled him!” chimed the second.

“Alas, the youth feared naught as he chased me from the sea!” chimed the third.

To his health they drank, amused by the one mortal man without fear.

Author's Note:  The original story from the Turkish Fairy Tales unit, Fear, is told from the youth's point of view. He seeks out what it is to be afraid and each of these circumstances occur from his point of view yet none of them frighten him. At the end, the maidens transform to their beautiful selves before him while they praise his ability to know no fear. I decided to write my story from the maidens' point of views in order to portray them more as tricksters than testing him, to which they are surprised. I made it seem more like a game to them.

Bibliography:
"Fear." Forty-four Turkish Fairy Tales by Ignacz Kunos with illustrations by Willy Pogany (1913). Web source: Fear.

Storytelling for Week 3: The Best of Friends

Pussie and Doggie were best friends and always together. School was coming to an end for the semester and winter break was upon them. Neither of them enjoyed the bitter cold, so they often spent their time snuggled indoors under cozy blankets with cups of hot chocolate warming their hands. Their happiness came to an end though.

A cup of hot chocolate.
Image Information: Hot Chocolate by David Monniaux (2006). Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Doggie's parents had lost their jobs and without money to put food on the table, they chose to move away to stay with family until their lives could be stable again. It was heartbreaking for both Pussie and Doggie, whose friendship was strained by the distance. It became too much to handle and Pussie proposed a separation and the two friends stopped talking altogether. 

Sad and alone, far from home, Doggie found himself constantly in fights, being bullied and picked on. His family could not understand where this melancholy came from and failed to offer him support. He made the wrong friends and often wondered if he would ever be happy again. It was hard for him to be without Pussie, because he had gotten so used to spending his time with her.

On the other hand, Pussie was very happy with new friends and everything she could want. It did not take her long at all to stop thinking about Doggie, only ever at the back of her mind. She was becoming popular at school and the attention was all she needed.

A few months later, Doggie’s family decided to return to their hometown once his parents were re-employed. He was more than excited to return to Pussie, whom he had not heard from in a very long time. He wondered how she was doing and what they would do now that he could come back.

However, Pussie was not the same person he remembered leaving. She was rude and prissy now, her new friends and rising popularity having changed her. She was not at all the girl he had loved so dearly. She would not even look at him, the reminder of her former life. It was clear that they could never be friends again, because they simply were not who they used to be.

Many times Doggie tried to approach her, but she always turned him away. The teachers pitied him and told him to let go. Time and situations change people and Doggie had to come to terms with that, so he went to school every day and tried not to look her way again.

Author’s Note: I had a hard time retelling this week’s story! I decided to use The Quarrel of the Cat and Dog and retell the story from a human point of view. In the original, Doggie and Pussie are best friends but part ways. When Doggie stumbles upon Pussie’s home, she is infuriated and the owner realizes they can never be friends. I used the animals’ names from the story and put them in a high-school setting to show how time and certain situations can make even the best of friends the worst of enemies.

Bibliography: “The Quarrel of the Cat and Dog.” Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends by Gertrude Landa (1919). Web Source: The Quarrel of the Cat and Dog.

Storytelling for Week 2: The Revenge Feast

The feast was in full array, bountiful foods and drinks spread across the tables, songs of celebration echoing off the glorious halls of the splendid theatre. It was an important meeting, called forth by the god Jupiter himself, and not a single soul invited would miss it. At one end of the room stood a couple, two people come together to join each other in matrimony, blessed by the gods themselves. It would be an event of the century according to the heavenly powers and mortals alike.

Cupid and Psyche.

Image by Leo Gonzales. Source: Wikimedia commons.

Venus sat idly by, twirling her hair around her fingers and tapping a foot impatiently. It was not joy she shared today for the marriage of her traitorous son, Cupid, but anger and hatred for the vile temptress that stood next to him.

“The evil little Psyche… If you think I will let you get away with taking away my boy and my beauty, think again,” she muttered under her breath.

Jupiter’s knowing eyes peered towards her, as if he knew exactly what the goddess was thinking. She feigned a sweet smile, lifted a fluttering hand in a peaceful gesture, and returned to the discussion taking place at her table. He had already warned her once, reassuring her that her lineage would remain pure. It was not the lineage that she cared for, but the fact that such an inferior mortal could be worthy of the heart of the rest of the world, of her own son.

“Oh, Venus! You are so lucky to have such a beautiful daughter-in-law! Even the mortals acknowledge her blessings!” A strawberry blonde goddess gleefully continued the conversation, “They even believe she could give you a run for your position!”

Holding back the temptation to smite this unnecessary goddess down where she sit, Venus sneered and replied, “There is neither goddess nor mortal that can compare to me. Surely even you understand that.”

The sheer sarcasm of her biting tone was enough to silence the other woman. She’d had about enough of celebration for a while. Venus closed the doors behind her, cutting off the sounds of dance and song, of laughter and cheer. She was ashamed of her kind, accepting that girl into their heavenly embrace.

“Anxiety! Sorrow!” Venus called, snapping her fingers. Her servants scuttled to her side, bowing in submission to their beautiful mistress. “We have plans to attend to and deaths to scheme, sweet servants. Psyche must be rid of one way or another.”

Down the hall and beyond the doors of the grand theatre, Cupid turned his attention away from his happy wife. He looked around, seeking his mother, but found her absent. Frowning, he gave up and returned back to the smiling face of Psyche, more beautiful than Venus herself.

Author’s note: This is a retelling of The Wedding Feast in Apuleius's Cupid and Psyche. Psyche is a beautiful mortal compared to Venus herself. After Venus ordered her son, Cupid, to harm Psyche, he betrayed her and fell in love instead. In retaliation, Venus tortures poor Psyche and attempts to drive her to her end, but of course, Psyche and Cupid are reunited and blessed by Jupiter, the god of the heavens. I decided to write this from Venus' perspective during the celebration of Cupid and Psyche getting married. After she spent so much time torturing Psyche, I couldn't see her being very happy about the heavens blessing their marriage, so I decided to write what I thought she would respond with!

Bibliography:

"Apuleius's Cupid and Psyche" by Apuleius, from The Golden Ass, translated by Tony Kline (2013). Web Source: The Wedding Feast.

Week 1 Storytelling: A Heart Of Gold

In marble walls as white as milk,

Lined with a skin as soft as silk;

within a fountain crystal clear,

A golden apple doth appear.

No doors there are to this stronghold.

Yet things break in and steal the gold.

[An egg.]

Every villager knew the tale. It was one of adventure and courage, but accompanied as well by a hint of danger. Children grew up being told the tale at their bed sides. Although most of the village children out grew their beliefs of storytelling, there was one young man who curiosity got the best of. He knew deep in his heart that the tale of his childhood was real and after years of searching, he knew exactly where it might be.

Deep within the cavern, Mikael stumbled towards the small amount of light he could see.  His torch had died out during a fall over a sharp ridge, but he had managed to blindly find his way upon a steadier path. Had the decisions to make again, he would have stayed home safe in his cot. It probably should have crossed his mind about why no one had ever found the gold be it danger or death that threatened any who sought after it.

“Oh bloody curse it!” Mikael muttered, his fingers tracing the deep grooves of the wall of which peeped rays of light behind it. Frustrated words slipped from his tongue as he pushed and kicked at the rocks barring his escape until the wall shifted and launched him face first into a cold pool of water.

Resurfacing, Mikael gasped for air and sputtered water from his lungs. After gathering his wits, he looked around the area and what he saw before him left him breathless once again. The white walls of marble glittered as fountains of clear water flowed over the ridges far above, forming soft waterfalls that filled the pool that broke his fall. Cracks in the ceiling of the cavern allowed the sun to glow into the room, reflecting off the beautiful water and filling it with light.

Mikael hoisted himself over the edge of the stone platform at the center of the cavern. His cotton clothing was soaked through, dripping the gold dyes his eldest sister had stained them only days earlier. She would flog him good for getting her work soaked before the dyes had time to set, but now was his chance to search for something even more valuable: the gold of the childhood tale. Mikael glanced around, noticing only a single path leading deeper into the marble cavern, and after a few moments of consideration, he trudged on towards the next room.

“Who goes there?” A feminine voice whispered, echoing gently off the white walls.

He stood stunned as his eyes fell upon the woman half hidden behind the towering throne. Upon the floor lay a chisel and other instruments he had not the knowledge to recognize. Her blond hair flowed to the floor, tangled at her feet as she cowered, bright green eyes peeping just around the side of the monument to watch him. No one from his village had blond hair nor light eyes.

He took in the new room, seeing cabinets carved of marble, storage space and baskets filled with foods. It looked as if someone lived here, other pathways connecting to other rooms that he could only see the length of the tunnels. As he looked back at the woman, he noticed something behind her that lit up as the light hit it, contained in a glass case upon the pedestal. It was a golden apple.

The Golden Apple.
Source: Wikimedia Commons

He took a step forward, a grin on his face as he thought of bringing the treasure home, proving to the other villagers that it wasn’t just a child’s tale! It would be worth enough to buy his sister dyes, repair their broken roof, and for enough food to last forever. Before he could reach it, the woman pulled him back, her trembling hands gripping his hand.

“Please don’t take it,” she begged. “It is the last of my treasures. It’s all I have left of my home.”

Mikael looked at her, hesitant for a moment. The treasure was right there, right in front of him, but the way she appeared, distraught and sad, made him reconsider. He knew what it was like, holding on to the only thing he had left of a real home. How many adventurers had found her stronghold, taken her treasures until it was the only one left?

In the end, he did not take it. He stayed a while, talking with the woman. She told him of her land, a place far beyond the horizon, where gold was abundant and their love was of art. The cavern reminded her of that place, long destroyed, marbled and beautiful and thus she began a new life here after searching for many long years. It turned out in the end that he did not in fact steal the gold per say, but rather stole her heart as the first kind adventurer she had met.

Author’s Note: This story is a twist of "In marble walls as white as milk" in The Nursery Rhyme Book, edited by Andrew Lang and released in 2008. The rhyme, listed in my story, described an egg through rich wording and similes. I decided to use those similes to create more literal images such as the cavern, pool, and treasure, making it an adventure. I believe the ending teaches us a lesson that not all treasures found are gold.

Bibliography:
The Nursery Rhyme Book edited by Andrew Long (2008). The Project Gutenberg EBook.