Week 13: The Fairy Meeting

     It was traditional for this group of friends to gather once a month to drink and talk. They had to be mindful of where they met; after all, they were fairies, and while they were friendly towards humans, they didn’t want anyone coming across them. They changed up the locations where they met, but no matter where they had the same ritual. They’d conjure up mushrooms to sit on, and have lively discussions while drinking.

     Tonight, the topic fell on humans who couldn’t keep quiet. The fairies had plenty of stories about that, of course.

     “Remember that one old fart we found asleep on the ground?” groused one fairy. “We took him back to the palace, showed him around, then when he fell asleep again we took him back to the same spot and left him enough gold for the rest of his life! And what did he do? Told his wife the instant he got home! I tell you, I don’t think we should give gold anymore. It would be quicker just to give the humans the cockle-shells first!”

     “Oh now, some of them aren’t so bad,” said another. “Remember that little boy I told you about? I left him a sixpence under a stone in the wall every day, and he never told a soul willingly. His dad threatened him, that’s the only reason he told. And I think he likes the shells anyway; he still takes them.”

     The first fairy gave a snort. “That just means this starts early, when they’re young. I still say humans can’t be trusted.” The fairy took another swig of their drink.

     “What about that mother with the child?” piped up a third fairy. “Remember? We’d visit her at night to sing and dance, and left her some money for her trouble. Then she got married and had a baby, and told her husband all about us one night!” 

     The first fairy nodded vigorously. “My point exactly! I mean, we had to change the baby to set a warning, otherwise humans will do whatever they want. Not that the warnings seem to mean much. Humans still talk!”

     “Oh, it’s in their nature to talk,” said a fifth fairy. “And there are some who keep quiet, rare as they may seem. They just don’t make it known, of course. Let’s not give up totally on humans.”

     At this point, it was getting time for them to wrap up their meeting. Everyone gathered their things and left, some on foot, some in the air, and some on the backs of corgis. All that was left was a ring of mushrooms.

Source

Week 11: From the Girl's View

      The little girl was happy.

     It was always a fun time when she and her brothers could walk upright on two legs and dance and sing. This was their time, time that belonged only to them. 

     As the only female, her brothers had demanded that she be the one to look out for their mother. They knew eventually they should probably reveal to their mom that they had human forms, not just dog forms, but for now they wanted to keep this to themselves. It was their secret, only shared with their siblings. Sometimes she could convince one of her brothers to keep watch for a bit so she could dance, but today she was content to just watch.

      Unfortunately, she hadn’t noticed that her mother hadn’t moved in several minutes, and so everyone was surprised when their mother came bursting in. She chastised them for never showing that they could change into human form, and insisted that they couldn’t become dogs anymore. The little girl and her siblings were upset for a while, but then got over it. At least in human form they were taller, and if they occasionally changed into their dog form when their mom wasn’t around… Well, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

      The little girl knew their history, that her father was a shapeshifter who lived as a dog by day, then would turn into a man at night. When her mother had gotten pregnant, her parents, out of shame, abandoned her and convinced the village to move away. Her mother had given birth alone, and raised the girl and her brothers alone. Her father was dead, killed by her grandfather before they left.

      Now that the girl and her brothers stayed in human form all the time, their mother started to teach them how to hunt, and her brothers proved to be highly successful at this. The girl kept the house while her brothers were out, and helped deconstruct their kills. When they became successful at whale hunting, she would take the fat and treat it for household use.

     When they had a visiter, the girl knew who it was. Her mother had told them how Crow had helped her when she was abandoned, leaving a few embers that could be coaxed into a fire. Now Crow had come to investigate what was the source for all the dead whales on the beach.

     The girl and her brothers gave Crow all the food she could eat, but it was the girl’s idea to not let Crow take anything with her. She wanted some privacy for her family for just a little longer, before their existence was revealed. But Crow managed to smuggle some whale meat back to the village, and once the village learned that the brothers were such good hunters, they decided to move back and allow the brothers to be their chiefs.

     The girl was okay with this. After all, now they had more protection, and she had people to talk to that weren’t related to her. But sometimes she missed the days when it was just her and her brothers, dancing in human form before becoming dogs again.

Source

Author’s note: This isn’t my best work, but oh well. While it’s specifically mentioned in the story that there are four boys and one girl, after the mother discovers that her children can have human form, she isn’t mentioned again. The focus is on her brothers and their great ability to hunt. I thought it would be interesting to look at how the girl felt about everything. 

Week 9: Never Trust a Human

     I should have known this would happen. Even when my brothers and sisters and I were barely out of the egg, Mother always told us: “Humans are untrustworthy. Interactions with them never work out, even if they seem kind.” She always warned us to limit our interactions with humans as much as possible. She said it was how our father had died, because he had been foolish enough to trust a human’s offering of food that turned out to be poisoned.

     Still, like anyone else, I didn’t quite listen to my mother. I convinced myself that she was exaggerating. But at the same time, I didn’t get too close to humans. There was one I saw occasionally as I flew about. He lived in a forest I visited every so often. He seemed to support himself by hunting, but I knew from witnessing it personally that he wasn’t exactly a great hunter. Humans always seem to be so loud, but he was even when I could tell he was trying to be quiet. When he did manage to catch something, he was usually quite courteous in how he discarded the remains. I feasted on those remains sometimes, after I was sure he was gone.

     I think that’s why I failed to head Mother’s warning. He’d unknowingly fed me, and I felt bad for him after seeing his struggles. So when I was flying around, and saw him walking to the stream in the mountain, I knew what he wanted, and that I had to stop him. 

     The water was almost at his his lips when I knocked it away. As a hunter, you’d think he’d have more sense to investigate his water source, but apparently not. In fact, he tried to drink the water again! So I swooped down again and knocked the leaf-cup out of his hand. But I made a mistake. When the same thing happened for a third time, I didn’t notice him immediately grabbing for his bow. Right when I turned in the air to face him, his arrow shot through my chest. I was only aware of intense pain, and then the ground hitting me suddenly. 

     Humans are untrustworthy. I was trying to stop him from drinking poisoned water, and for my generosity I was killed. I can only hope others won’t suffer the same fate as me.

Source

Author’s note: this is based on How the Raven Saved the Hunter, from A.L. Shelton’s Tibetan Folk Tales. The story is told from the point of view of the hunter, who is enraged when a raven keeps blocking him from drinking from a stream. After he kills the raven, he discovers that the water is being produced from a snake, and that it’s poisonous. He grieves over his mistake, realizing he let his temper get the better of him. I decided to just tell the story from the raven’s point of view, as it isn’t addressed in the story about what causes the raven to try and protect the man. This is a short story, especially from me, but the original story isn’t very long either.

Week 7 Story: One Good Deed a Decade

     Humans are really interesting creatures, are they not? I suppose I was one once, but I can’t say I remember. At any rate, it’s fun to mess with them, since they’re so scared of anything that’s not like them, especially of us ghosts. But once in awhile I like to do something nice for a human; it shakes things up. After all, doing anything often enough gets boring; variety is the spice of life, or whatever.

     Anyway, that is what I was doing this last week. As I wandered along the road I saw a man walking towards me. Now, something told me that while this man wasn’t especially good, he also wasn’t a bad man. He was neutral, if you would. He led an ordinary life, and was just traveling along the road to get to the next place he could find work. 

     Just to mess with him, as soon as we met each other in the road I flipped around and started walking alongside him. I like to do this a lot; usually what happens involves screaming, running, and a great deal of amusement (for me anyway). But this man didn’t do any of that. He kept walking as if this was an everyday occurrence  That was rather interesting, since no one else had ever done that before. I decided to keep walking with him and see what happened.

     Shortly after I joined him, we came to a river where we had to swim to cross it to the other side (I think there’s a joke in there). Obviously, I didn’t make any noise at all (most things just pass through me if I choose to let them), but I swear the man was making more noise than was reasonable. So I asked him why on earth he was making so much noise when he swam. I admit, I wasn’t expecting him to lie and say that he was a ghost and could do whatever he wanted. But I admired his boldness in doing so. So I told him that in that case, one ghost to another, we should become friends and come to each other’s aid if we ever needed to. Not that I expected to require a human’s help. But I decided that my first impression of him being a decent man was correct, and this would serve as my good deed to humans for the decade.

     So as we walked, I mused on a way to conduct my good deed. Eventually I asked the man if there was anything he feared. Obviously lying, the man said he didn’t fear anything. Then he asked me the same question. I told him that I was afraid of the wind blowing through a field of barley. It was the dumbest thing I could think of, and I knew the town we were walking toward grew barley in its outskirts. I figured the man was smart enough to lie to try to get away from me.

     Sure enough, when we came to the city, I asked the man if he wanted to go into town with me. The man said he was tired and was going to lie down in the field of barley to rest. I walked away and continued into town. While this might have been my good deed for one human, that didn’t mean I couldn’t have some fun with others. So I did my usual tricks of scaring people, destroying things, etc. For my grand finale, I made my way into the palace and stole the soul of the king’s son. He was a brat anyway, and a near-death experience is good for the soul (heh, get it?). I bound up the soul in a yak-hair bag and left the city. I dropped it at the edge of the field where the man was sleeping (gotta keep up pretenses after all), and told him to watch the sack for me, since I had business elsewhere to attend to.

     Obviously I never went back. I had a feeling the man would know what to do. And sure enough, about a week later, I heard some gossip between a couple human females while they were washing their clothes. They said that the king’s son had fallen gravely ill, but had been cured by a begging holy man who walked into town earlier in the day. The king had been so grateful for the man’s help that he had given the man half of everything he owned, both riches and land. That made me smile a little, before I made myself solid enough to move one of the bed sheets the women had hung up. It may be a stereotype, but it is fun to run around under a sheet to scare people. 

Source

Author’s note: this is a retelling of The Man and the Ghost, from a collection of Tibetan Folk Tales by A. L. Shelton. The original story is told from a 3rd person point of view, and we only learn the thoughts and feelings of the man, not the ghost. The end of the story specifically mentions that the ghost never came back to the man again, leaving the man to assume that this is customary behavior between a man and a ghost. I thought it would be interesting to look at the ghost’s reason for causing such havoc and walking away, and figure that maybe he wanted to be nice for a change (the alternative that I could come up with was that he was very scatterbrained, but I like the idea I went with more than that). 

Week 4 Story: When Luck Runs Out

     I start this story by telling you that I’ve been lucky. I survived to manhood in Ancient Greece, which is no small feat. I was one of the warriors who was picked by Odysseus to travel to Troy. I managed to survive a war that lasted for ten long years. Finally, I’m headed home to Ithaca. I’ll see my son and wife again; I’m sure my son is a man in his own now. When you consider everything I’ve been through, I’d say I’m favored by the Fates.

     Odysseus is a little odd, but he is a great leader. After all, he managed to keep us alive for this long. Those of us on his ship anyway. The others were destroyed a while back. It’s a little hard to keep track of the days and weeks, or even months, on the ocean. One day bleeds into the next. Although some of them stand out. Like the monster we encountered, with just the one eye. That was terrifying, especially when he ate a couple of the men. But I’m lucky that I survived that too, I guess. 

     We’re finally back on the ocean again. I don’t know exactly why Odysseus made us go to the land of the dead, but after one last talk with Circe we’re headed home again. Odysseus tends to get distracted, but I know he’s as homesick as the rest of us. Circe gave him some advice apparently. There are these things called Sirens up ahead; Odysseus said they sing songs so beautiful you try to reach them on their little island and end up dying, either because you drown or because they eat you. It’s death to hear them. But, him being him, he wants to listen to their song, probably out of curiosity and for the bragging right. So all of us now have wax in our ears so we can’t hear anything. A couple other guys tied Odysseus to the mast. I can see him from my position at the oar if I turn my head the right way. A few minutes ago he was just standing there, but now he’s struggling, pretty badly too. I’d think he’d hurt himself if I didn’t know how tightly bound he is. I suppose that means we’re within hearing distance of the sirens’ rocks.

*********************************************************************************

     It took a while, but Odysseus isn’t struggling anymore. He had told us that would mean we were out of hearing of the sirens’ song. It does feel nice to take the wax out of my ears. You don’t realize how much you rely on your hearing for balance, especially on the ocean, until it’s gone.
     I know there are more dangers ahead. I wish Odysseus would tell us exactly, but he’s been a little vague. At some point there’s a monstrous whirlpool by some cliffs. Or a monster that is a whirlpool, I’m not sure which. After he was removed from the mast he gave a speech, told us not to worry and to trust him, basically. All of us do, especially since he's led us this far. Now that we're approaching the whirlpool, he's gotten more specific. Apparently we’ve got to stick as close to the cliffs as we can without actually hitting them. It’s the only way to avoid getting sucked into the whirlpool.
     That whirlpool is terrifying, now that we’re close. I can feel the blood drain from my face, and saw it reflected in my companion’s face. I catch a glimpse of Odysseus, and had enough time to think, “Why he did he change into his armor, is he expecting an attack?” when it happens.
     Something tight and sharp grabs me painfully by the shoulder, and suddenly I’m yanked into the air. My screams mingle with those of others, and I manage to see that a horrible, horrible monster has grabbed me with only one of its heads. There are others also caught by the other heads, and we’re all screaming desperately as the monster drags us into the cave. I catch a last glimpse, impossibly, of Odysseus, standing there in full armor and looking after us as we die.
      I guess my luck finally ran out.

(Source: The Book Palace)

Author’s note: This is the last segment of Kline's translation of The Odyssey that’s available for the readings. Everything up until this part has been backstory: Odysseus is explaining his tale to the Phaeacians, whose shore he washed up on. From there Odysseus eventually makes his way back home. All in all, he was gone for ten years fighting the Trojan War, and it took him another ten years to get back home.
Odysseus’s journey took a long time for various reasons, but one of them is because of the interference of the gods. The aforementioned cyclops (the one eyed monster) is a son of Poseidon. When Odysseus injured the cyclops, Poseidon cursed him and interfered with his trip home. In the end, none of Odysseus’s men made it home with him.
I ended up taking the perspective of one of the sailors for that reason. It’s miraculous that a lot of them survived the war to head home (initially there were twelve ships that left Troy; as mentioned in the story all but the ship Odysseus was on were destroyed). I liked the idea of one of them making it so far, and thinking they were so close to home, only to miss out. There’s a lot more in the Odyssey that I didn’t mention, because it would take too long, but the same idea is there. I'm not fully satisfied with the story, but I think I did okay in getting into the mindset.

Week 3 Story: Why You Shouldn't Be Too Fond of Yourself

     A day that was much like any other day (sunny with mild weather and temperature) found two wood nymphs relaxing by a pond, catching up on the latest gossip (after all, with the Greek gods there is always much to gossip about). 

     One said to the other, “Did you hear about what happened to Narcissus last year?”

     “No,” was the response, “last I heard anything to do with him was that poor Echo pined for him and faded away, but that over a year ago. I knew her once, a long time ago. Nice girl. Shame she made Hera angry.”

    “Well you’ll find this interesting,” said the first, a fir wood nymph. “So you know how Narcissus basically rejects everyone who likes him? Like, no matter if they’re human, nymph, demigod, whatever, he just turns them away?”

     “Everyone knows that,” replied the other, whose home was an olive tree. “He’s always been so full of himself, thinking he’s all that. He’s just good looking. That’s not uncommon at all in mythology.”

     “Well I guess he made the wrong person mad,” said the fir nymph. “Someone cursed him! Said that he should fall in love with himself and fail to be loved back, and Nemesis heard him.”

     The olive nymph let out a snort. “The same Nemesis who hurts anyone who seems to be too lucky? Sure she wasn’t just eavesdropping? That goddess does love her gossip, just like the rest.”

     “Hey, I’m just telling you what I heard. I’ll stop if you don’t want to hear it.”

     “Alright, I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet. What happened after Nemesis got involved?”

     “Well, she did what was asked of her. The next time Narcissus was out hunting, when he went to drink from a pond he saw his reflection and fell in love with himself, and – “

     “Hold up, you expect me to believe that?” cried the olive wood nymph. “I know Narcissus went back for seconds of looks instead of getting in line when they were handing out intelligence, but surely even he wasn’t that dumb. I mean, animals can recognize that their reflection isn’t real!”

     The fir wood nymph held up her hands defensively. “I swear it’s true! My cousin’s boyfriend’s sister’s aunt saw him! He was sitting by the pond, weeping and reaching down to touch the surface, moaning at the fact that he couldn’t caress his reflection’s face. I swear it actually happened.”

     The olive wood nymph let out a snort. “Whatever you say. Did he ever manage to drag himself away from his own reflection?”

     The fir nymph shook her head. “He just stayed there. Supposedly he knew that it was his reflection, and that he was being stupid, but he still stayed there and just looked at himself. Just wasted away. Someone told me Echo was there, watching it all happen. Not that she could do anything to help him. He finally died after a while. Kind of a sad way to go, if you ask me. Longing so much for what you can’t have.”

     The olive nymph let out another snort. “This is Ancient Greece. People die in tragic ways all the time. Trust me, that’s nothing new.”

     “Yeah, but I didn’t tell you the best part,” said the fir nymph. “His sisters went to bury his body, but they didn’t find it! They found a flower instead next to the pond, white with a yellow center, and it kept bobbing towards the water as if it was trying to look into it. Supposedly Echo stayed with him until the end too.” She sighed. “I know Greek mythology always has tragic endings, but this one really sucks, if you ask me.”

     The olive wood nymph rolled her eyes again, and moved to stretch her arms. As she did, something by the edge of the pond caught her eye. There was a white flower, with a yellow center. As she watched, the flower kept nodding down at the top of the water, as if the wind was pushing it down. But the olive nymph realized that all the other plants were still, that there was no wind. The flower was the only plant in sight that was moving. 

     The olive wood nymph turned back to her companion, and saw that the fir nymph saw the flower as well. With a few muttered words to each other, they jumped up and moved quickly back down the path towards their trees, with only the echo of their words remaining in the clearing with the pond and the flower.

(Source: Ceil on DeviantArt)

Author’s note: This version of the story of Narcissus comes from Ovid's Metamorphoses. Like a lot of Greek myths, this one ends in tragedy. There’s not really a happy ending for anyone involved. Echo, who was cursed by Hera to repeat the last words someone spoke to her, was reported to have faded away after she was rejected by Narcissus, leaving only her voice behind. Narcissus (who was the subject of a prophecy that he would only be in danger if he were to find himself) was so arrogant in rejecting everyone that he attracted the attention of Nemesis (the Greek goddess of revenge who was known to go after those she felt had too high an opinion of themselves).

As should be evidenced, Narcissus is the root of the word ‘narcissism,’ a personality disorder where someone feels they are the best, and everyone who disagrees with them is their enemy. In other words, someone who is so in love with themselves that they disregard all others. Additionally, this story provides an explanation for the existence of two things: the echo, and the Narcissus flower (which really does exist).

I liked the idea of the story being told as gossip. The ending where the nymphs realize they’re by a pond with an oddly moving flower didn’t occur to me until I was almost done. But I like where the story ended up; it makes the tale a little somber, and gives it a ghostly feel that I think is befitting.

Week 2: Jackal's Good Deed for the Season

      One fine day, as Jackal walked through the woods, he came across a tree he often took afternoon naps under. For politeness’ sakes, he greeted the tree and asked how the day was treating him. 

      “You won’t believe this,” said the tree, “a man came along and asked me to judge whether it was fair for a tiger to eat him after he let the tiger out of a trap!”

      “Oh really?” said Jackal. “What did you tell the man?”

      “What do you think?” said the tree. “I give men wood, fruit, and shade from my branches, and get nothing in return! The tiger can eat him and the matter be done for all I care!”

      After more small talk, Jackal bid the tree farewell and went on his way. He found the man’s plight interesting, but didn’t think about it for long.

      A short while later he came across a buffalo working in a field. Again, for politeness’ sake, Jackal greeted the buffalo and asked him how his day was. 

      “Oh, the usual,” grumbled the buffalo, “but you won’t believe this. A man came along and asked me to judge whether it was fair for a tiger to eat him after he freed the tiger from a cage!”

      “You don’t say,” Jackal said with interest. “How did you respond?”

     “What do you think?” the buffalo said. “I work for humans all day plowing their fields, and in return I’m lucky if I get enough food to eat and a dry place to sleep! Humans just take and take, I don’t care if the tiger eats him or not!”

      Now pondering the matter a little more, Jackal said his goodbyes to the buffalo and continued on his way. He then came across a road, and, minding his manners, asked the road how he was.

     “Same old same old,” the road told him. “But you’ll never guess who I just talked to not 10 minutes ago!”

     “Was it a man who wanted to know whether it would be fair to let a tiger eat him after the man freed the tiger from a trap?” Jackal asked dryly.

     “Oh,” the road said, a little disappointed. “Well yes, it was.”

     “What did you tell him?” Jackal asked.

    “What do you think?” the road growled. “Humans walk on me all day and run their carts over me, and all I get in return is the ashes and crumbs of the food they carry, if I’m lucky! If the tiger eats the man, that’s one less person to walk on me.”

     Jackal politely said goodbye to the road and continued on, musing over what the tree, buffalo, and road had told him. Now Jackal wasn’t any more fond of humans than the others were; they chased him away from hunting grounds and made it hard for him to find shelter. But he was less fond of the tiger. In the past, the tiger had stolen Jackal’s kill, chased him from water sources, and invaded his sleeping spot. When it came down to it, Jackal would rather that the man be victorious over the tiger, rather than the other way around.

     Of course, not one minute after Jackal came to this conclusion, he saw a man with a dejected look on his face walking towards him. Assuming this was the same man with a tiger problem, and deciding this would be his good deed for the season, Jackal politely asked the man why he was so upset. 

     Naturally, Jackal’s hunch was correct, and the man told him how he had come across a tiger in a cage, and when the creature promised not to eat the man if he let him out, the man took pity and opened the cage door. The tiger had jumped on the man, proclaiming the man a fool for believing him, and after being trapped in the cage for so long, the tiger was hungry. The man convinced the tiger to let him question the first three things he saw about whether this was fair, and to abide by their answers. After asking a tree, a buffalo, and a road, the man was disappointed to hear that they all considered the matter done, and that the man should let the tiger eat him.

     Feigning confusion, Jackal asked the man to repeat himself, as he found the whole matter very perplexing. The man did so more slowly. But Jackal asked the man to take him back to the tiger so he could explain, since Jackal was having a hard time understanding.

     The man walked him back to the tiger, who was still waiting for the man by the cage. Upon seeing him, the tiger sprang up and licked his lips, proclaiming, “Enough is enough, I’m hungry!”

     “Please sir,” said the man, “let me explain the matter to this jackal again, as he says he finds this confusing and wishes to understand.” 

     The tiger rolled his eyes, but allowed it, thinking he would simply eat the jackal for dessert. The man explained everything to the jackal for a third time, throwing in unnecessary details and taking as long as possible. But when he finally did finish, Jackal shook his head in bafflement. 

     “What can be so hard to understand?” the tiger asked exasperatedly.

     “Forgive me sir, my mind can take a while to grasp things,” groveled Jackal. “Let me see, the man was in the cage and you walked by – no, that’s not it. The man was in you and the cage walked by – wait, that doesn’t make sense. The cage was in the man”–

     “No, you moron,” roared the tiger. “I was in the cage and the man walked by”–

     “And how did you end up in the cage, sir?” Jackal asked.

     “Why, in the usual way, of course!”

     “And what, sir, is the usual way?”

    “This is the usual way!” yelled the tiger, jumping back in the cage. “Now do you understand the matter?!”

      “Oh, I understand it perfectly,” said Jackal, slamming the cage door shut. “And now that I do, I think it’s best things to go back to as they were before.”

Source: Andy Erekson

Author’s note: I think I liked the story of Tiger, Brahman, and Jackal from Jacob’s collection more than the other options because the trickery is unexpected at the end. We don’t expect for the jackal to come to the rescue of the Brahman, and it’s a surprise ending for the man to come out victorious. I thought it might be interesting to look at Jackal’s reasoning for helping the man, which isn’t looked at in the original version. I also decided to not specify that the man was a member of the Brahman caste, as it didn’t seem relevant to the story, or at least not in my version.