Week 14: The Servant and the Thief (Storytelling)

An old servant sat in dining room, polishing the silverware for Lord Nathaniel. He was sitting alone, working slowly. His hands were knobbed and stiff. This mundane task used to take him less than an hour. Now he would be sitting working for a third of the day.

Cutlery by Cocoparisienne. Pixabay

He knew his master hated how long it took the old man to do simple tasks. Lord Nathaniel had not even been born when the old servant began working. He had been childhood friends with Lord Nathaniel’s father, Marcus. Marcus had promised the old servant a place in his house as long as he lived. But three months earlier, Marcus had died, leaving Lord Nathaniel in charge of the household. Nathaniel was still so young but thought he had the wisdom of the world.

Lord Nathaniel quickly began to run the household with a firm and hand, yet he was often shortsighted in his decisions. His young wife, Lady Gwen, on the other hand was kind to everyone she met and added compassion to the household. The lord and lady often argued, but they usually reached a compromise quickly.

Because of this, the old servant wasn’t too worried at first when their angry voices were carried down the hallway to the dining room where he sat. But then he began to listen to their argument.

“Nathaniel,” Lady Gwen said sternly. “You cannot just throw him out onto the street. He would be dead within a month!”

“Well, what am I supposed to do Gwen? Let him stay? Feed him, cloth him, give him a place to live? He isn’t doing us any good. I know he was friends with my father but that doesn’t mean I should have to pay for him now!”

“He’s just a kind old man. I’ve talked to him quite a bit and he has worked for your family for half a century! It would be wrong to not let him stay.”

“I’ve made my decision. Tomorrow I’m going to tell him to leave.” Lord Nathaniel ended the conversation abruptly,  and kept Gwen from arguing further.

The old servant sat in shock, the spoon he had been cleaning fell from his hand. He slowly leaned down to pick it up off the floor when Lord Nathaniel walked by the room. He paused for a second to stare unsympathetically at the old man before continuing on his way.

A minute later, Lady Gwen came rushing down the hall. She saw the old man struggling to get up and return to his seat. She quickly rushed forward to help him. “Thomas, are you alright?” she asked the old servant as she grabbed his elbow to pull him up.

“Uh… Well… Yes… Yes, M’lady. I-I’m  fine,” he stuttered, shaken from what he had just heard.

Lady Gwen sat beside him when he finally made it back to his chair. He slowly went back to work polishing the silver under her watchful gaze. “Did you hear?” she whispered.

He looked up at her, but she wouldn’t make eye contact with him. “Yes,” he said just as quietly. “I did, Lady Gwen. I… I wanted to… uh.. thank you for trying to stop him.”

Lady Gwen finally looked up from the table at the old servant sitting next to her. “I’m just sorry it didn’t work. Do you have anywhere to go?” The old man looked back at the spoon in his hand without answering. “I didn’t think so,” Gwen whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, both absorbed in their own thoughts. Finally the old servant said, “I just wish there was something I could do to prove I was useful to Lord Nathaniel.”

Gwen looked up quickly, her eyes wide as a plan began to form in her head. “That’s it!” she shouted, then lowered her voice. After all, she didn’t want Nathaniel to hear. “You have to do something so he owes you. So you’re too valuable for Nathaniel to force you to leave.”

The old servant looked at Lady Gwen’s excitement hopelessly. “Thank you, M’lady. But what could an old man like me do?”

“We could set something up,” Gwen said. “Nathaniel’s father promised you a place here as long as you lived. If you do something heroic, I can convince Nathaniel to keep that promise.”

“M’lady, you had to help me when I tried to pick up a spoon.”

“It wouldn’t have to be real. I have an old friend who owes me a favor. What if I asked him to steal my jewels. If you caught him and returned the jewels to us. I could convince Nathaniel to let you stay.”

“That seems like trickery.” The old servant looked at the stack of unpolished silverware to his side.

“Thomas,” Gwen said, reaching out and putting her hand on top of his. “You have already earned your place here. Nathaniel is being unreasonable.” After more convincing from Lady Gwen, the old man finally agreed.

Later that night the old servant heard Lady Gwen shrieking for Lord Nathaniel to come quickly. That was the cue. As Lord Nathaniel rushed to his wife’s aid, the servant went outside to the front gate. There, waited the fake thief.

As the old man approached, the thief called out. “Are you Thomas?”

The servant nodded. They exchanged the pouch that held the jewels. Both glanced nervously around.

 After a minute or so they heard shouts coming from the entry way. The fake thief quickly went to stand close by the old servant. The old man grabbed fake thief’s arm, who then pretended to struggle enough to make it look good.

Lord Nathaniel came out with Lady Gwen standing behind him, smiling. The old servant returned the jewels  and turned the fake thief to the police, where Lady Gwen arranged his release.

Lord Nathaniel was so pleased with the old servant that he moved him to the most beautiful room in the house and never talked of making him leave again. 

Jewels by James DeMers . Pixabay.

Author's Note: The original story was called Old Sultan. In the original story a master was about to kill his old dog because he was no longer useful to the household. The dog and a wolf team up to make the master keep the dog around. In the original, the wolf  fake-kidnaps the master's baby and the dog goes after him and saves the baby. Later in the story the wolf asks for the dog's help in stealing a sheep but the dog refuses and they begin fighting until finally they reach a peace. 

For my verison I changed the dog to an old servant and had him and the lord's wife team up to save him from being kicked out onto the street. Instead of bringing back a kidnapped baby I have the servant stop a jewel thief. Besides those big changes, gave/changed names of the characters and moved their roles in the story a little. But overall the message and theme of the story is intact to the original.

Story Source: The Grimm Brothers' Children's and Household Tales translated by D. L. Ashliman (1998-2013).

Personalized OU Library Tech Tip

I use the J-STOR and Project Muse databases a lot for research papers. For my Anthropology classe there are also databases that I use that are specifically for Anthropology journals. 

When doing this tech tip I also added the subjects I look up the most on the website, Journalism and Mass Comm, Anthropology, Religious Studies, and Woman and Gender Studies. 

I had never taken the time to personalize my library homepage, so I'm very glad this was a tech tip option. It will be very helpful for future references and ease of access. 

OU Email Tech Tip

Before this semester I hadn't made folders for different classes. I had made folders for financial aid information, other important University emails, and enrollment activity before, though. This semester I did start making folders for this class and my Intro to Professional Writing class because in both we receive important information that we may need to reference again. I will definitely be continuing making folders for some classes next semester.

Week 14: Brothers Grimm (Ashliman) Reading Diary

This week I read the Ashliman Grimm Brothers Unit. Story source: The Grimm Brothers' Children's and Household Tales translated by D. L. Ashliman (1998-2013).

For Part A, my favorite stories were the story of Seven Ravens and the story of Old Sultan.

I thought the ending of the Seven Ravens story was really sweet. I was shocked when the parents at the beginning decided it was okay that their seven sons turned into ravens, as long as they had their one daughter. Also it seemed so strange to wish your seven sons to turn into ravens, of all things. I understand being upset when you think your daughter is about to die and your sons have disappeared, but deciding to curse them as ravens seems a bit extreme, then to actually be okay with it after they do become birds and just decide to never mention them again was weird. So, while I wasn't very keen on the parents, the daughter was very brave and selfless when she learned that her brothers had been turned into ravens. I loved that she traveled across the earth to try and find her brothers and change them back. When she finally learned about them she could have just decided that they were gone and didn't matter anymore, as her parents had. But instead, she went to save these seven brothers she had never met.

(illustration by Hermann Vogel)

The story old Sultan was also a good story with a nice, happy ending. So many traditional fairy tales end very unhappily so I was so glad that both of these ended well for the characters.  I felt so bad for the dog, Old Sultan, when his master decided to kill him since he was old. This has been the beginning of quite a few folk and fairy tales that involve old dogs that I have read in this class. I thought that Old Sultan handled the dilemma the very cleverly with the wolf. I love that they plotted to have the wolf steal the master's child so Old Sultan could rescue him and be the hero. I was worried that after the master would still decide to kill him, so I'm very glad that didn't happen. I wasn't surprised when the wolf wanted something in return from Old Sultan. Him helping the old dog seemed a bit too good. In the end I'm glad they made their peace. Although I was expecting the wolf to lash out after he showed so much fear. But I'm glad the ending was happy. 

(illustration by Walter Crane)

For Part B my favorite stories were The Peasant and the Devil and Death's Messenger. 

I liked the Peasant and the Devil because of the cleverness of the farmer. I would have thought that after the first time the farmer tricked the devil, I would have thought that the devil would have realized the farmer could change crops and give him nothing again. I thought it was pretty stupid of him to just switch the deal when anything else could be planted. However, the farmer was so smart by making the deal. He got everything. All the crops and the gold and silver of the devil. In so many stories the devil as written as a crafty trickster but he was the complete opposite in this story. I was expecting him to try to get our of the deal to give the gold and silver to the farmer at the end. I was surprised the devil didn't at least try to trick the farmer out of it. 

(illustration by Otto Ubbelohde)

The story of Death's Messenger reminded me a lot of the story of the Deathly Hallows in Harry Potter. I thought this was a very clever story. I love that the messenger ends up being the sickness and disease itself. It is very true to life, especially back when this was written. I also love the idea of death approaching people as he did, which is what reminded me of the Deathly Hallows story, as well as the man going willingly with death at the end. This may have been my favorite story of the unit, although there were quite a few good ones. 

(illustration by Matthaus Schiestl)

Google Timer Tech Tip

I did not know that the Google timer was a thing before clicking on this tech tip. I think this will be incredibly helpful to manage study breaks.

Like many people, I'll decide to take a quick break on YouTube or other websites, and then three hours later I haven't done anything else on my assignment. I had always tried to limit myself by saying "only three videos" or something of that nature but it rarely works.

Because maybe there was a really short video, so I actually could watch a few more. Or sometimes I would decide a full length movie on YouTube should count as one video.

I think this timer will help a lot because it will be a loud beeping reminder that I have work to get done. This will be an extremely useful tool to know about.

Week 13: Leo and the Corpse (Storytelling)

It was dusk as we walked through the woods back to the village. Colors were muted and dull as the sunset faded behind us. The little light we had was filtered through the trees. I could hear Alex, my older brother, trudging behind me, breathing deeply. Up ahead I could hear Alex’s dog, Leo, trotting in front of us. His large shape was barely visible, a smudge of darker grey than the rest of our surroundings.

“I told you we should have left earlier,” I said. We would have to pass through the cemetery to get home. There had been stories told about corpses rising at night from the cemetery.

“Quit being a child,” Alex scoffed. “And anyways, I thought we were close on the trail of the deer. We both wanted meat to bring home to the family. It’s not my fault we didn't find it.”

"Clearing in the Forest" by Ivan Shiskin. Wikimedia.

Silence filled the air again, not even crickets sang. The silence felt eerie. Finally, we made it out of the trees. Only the field and the cemetery stood between home and us now. After we walked a little ways into the field, Leo stopped and darted back to us. The hair on his back was filly raised. He sniffed both Alex and me, as if making sure we were alright, before he turned and growled. I stopped; Alex pulled up short next to me. Leo stood a bit ahead of us, head down, muscles tense, a low rumble coming though his barred teeth.

We were nearly to the cemetery. I could see the dotting of grave stones on the horizon. Leo faced that direction. I squinted looking for what Leo saw or smelled. At first, I didn’t see anything. But Then Alex gasped and pointed. “Marcus…” he whispered to me, “That couldn't be…”

I focused on where Alex pointed. Finally, I made out a splotch of light grey fabric, probably white in normal light. It floated off the ground, unmoving but directly in the path we were set to take. “I don’t know… What do we do?” I whispered to Alex.

He subtly shook his head. “Well we can’t very well go back. There’s no where we can stay in the woods. The only thing we can do is try to go past it.” I nodded, trying to keep calm. We both took a step at the same time. Leo stayed a step or two ahead of us, keeping himself between the floating fabric. As we approached, the thing seemed to turn slowly.

Then it started towards us. My vision cleared as it approached. It was a dead person in their funeral shroud. It glided a foot or so off the ground, much more quickly than I expected it too. “Run!” I shouted as Alex and I both took off. Leo had other ideas. As quickly as we took off running towards town, Leo tore off in the direction of the corpse. “Leo!” I yelled at him as he began attacking the floating figure. “Leo! Come on!”

Alex was a good few dozen feet away now. He left me and Leo behind without a look back, although I hope he thought we were right behind him. I wasn't going to leave our the dog to die because of our stupidity for staying out too late.

I grabbed rocks and began throwing them as hard as I could at the corpse. I knew it wouldn't help much. But maybe at least it would distract it from attacking Leo. I was a little ways away, so if it came after me I would have a bit of head start.

It seemed disoriented. It would begin after me once rocks hit it but then Leo would bite at its feet until it turned back to him. And around and around we went until finally the thing seemed to decide we were being more trouble than we were worth. As quickly as it had come after us, the shrouded figure sailed back towards the cemetery and disappeared.

I was breathing hard, as was Leo. He walked slowly over towards me as I doubled over, trying to catch my breath. Gently, Leo sighed and licked my face. A thank you, I think. I smiled and petted before we began to walk back home again.

We finally arrived back home, exhausted and ready to fall asleep. All of my siblings and parents rushed out to meet us. They were all wide-eyed with worry, no doubt having listened to Alex’s story after he fled. It seemed like he had been home a while.

Alex walked slowly out the door, eyes downcast, not looking directly at me. Before I knew what happened Leo lunged at him. He snapped at Alex only a little gentler than he had bit at the corpse. 

Everyone was shocked but jumped into action, pulling the dog away from Alex. My other brothers and sisters struggled against Leo’s weight as Alex tried to make it inside. I rushed forward, petting Leo and trying to calm him. After a minute or so he finally stopped. After one last growl towards Alex, he turned back towards me.

That night Leo became my dog. Alex complained about it, since he had been the one to take care of Leo as a puppy. But are parents said if Alex really wanted the dog, he wouldn't have left Leo and I to the ghost corpse. Leo has never forgiven Alex. Every time Alex comes into the room Leo growls and walks over to sit at my feet. I like having my own protector dog. And I will never do anything to get on that Leo’s bad side. 

By Caroline Granycome. Wikimedia

Author's Note: The original story was called The Dog and the Corpse from the Russian Folklore Unit. The story was about a man whose dog saved him from a corpse/ghost and then he leaves the dog to fight and die. The dog finally gets away and tries to attack the man for leaving him. After the dog keeps attacking the man the dog is killed.

I changed a few things in this story although the basic concept is the same. The character, Marcus which I made for my point of view character was not in the original story at all. I added him because I wanted there to be one character that did help the dog. Also the Marcus left a way for the dog to not be killed at the end, because I didn't like that part of the story. The only other real change I made besides the addition of a new character was naming the brother and the dog. 

Week 13: Russian Folktales Reading Diary

This week I read the Russian Folktales Unit. Story Source: Russian Fairy Tales by W. R. S. Ralston (1887).

For part A my favorite stories were The Treasure and Wednesday. 

All of the stories in the Russian Folktales unit were unique and often morbid. I hadn't heard most of them before and I really enjoyed reading them. I thought the Treasure story was interesting because it was so different and it really pushed the idea that helping others and being kind will reward you in the end. When everyone is refusing to help the poor man bury the old woman, but he persists in his attempts, he is rewarded with the money that he finds. It was so realistic how after he finds the money and becomes rich, everyone wanted to help him and be his friend. I thought it was interesting how the corrupt pope decides the best course of action steal the money is to dress up like the devil. But in the end he also got what he deserved. 

The story of Wednesday reminded me of one of the stories I read a while back. I can't remember what unit it was in but the witch comes into the house and they ask for cakes from the woman and she can't get them to leave. Wednesday's story had the interesting twist that instead of just showing up, the woman accidentally summoned the bad spirit and let it in by not crossing herself before bed. 

For part B my favorite stories were the story of Two Friends and The Headless Princess.

The story of the Two friends was just sort of bizarre and I'm not really sure what the moral to the story was. I thought at first that it was going to be that you always need to keep promises, because of the living friend going to the dead one to invite him to the wedding. But then the whole three hundred years of time passing while he drank with the dead friend kind of kept that from being a reasonable moral. Maybe don't trust dead people? Spend your time with the living? I don't know, but I did love the ending to this story how the living friend went to a priest three hundred years later and found out he had disapeared centuries ago. It was kind of meta and I thought it was an interesting ending.

The story of the Headless Princess was also very strange and unusual. The ending where they staked the princess into her coffin reminded me of the TV show Supernatural a lot. While they said the princess in this story was a witch or sorceress, she seemed much more powerful than many other young witches in stories. Also the fact that she took her head off to clean it and brush her hair was really creepy. While I'm glad the boy didn't get harmed the horrors the princess conjured, I would have liked to have known what happened if he had turned around and stopped reading. Would the circle have been broken? The horrors hurt or kill him? I thought this was a very unique story.

Google Language Tech Tip

This is a screenshot of the Pirate Language setting for Google search.

Week 12: The Fairy and the Woodsman (Storytelling)

I walked through the woods with an ax swung over my shoulder. The air was warm with a light breeze but the clouds hid the sun. It kept the heat bearable in my thick clothes. Overall, it was a very nice day for work.

"Redwood Forest" by Michael Schweppe. Wikimedia

I looked around for the best possible tree. I was commissioned to make a table for a wealthy lord in our village. It had to be a huge tree to make the planks long and thick enough. Finally, I found a suitable tree, Red Oak that was at least double my width and stretched far into the sky. This would definitely take all day to chop down, but I think it will be perfect for the lord’s table.

I circle the tree a few times. There are some strange markings in various spots around the trunk, but they are gibberish to me, unlike any language, I’d ever seen and written tiny. From my bag, I took out a piece of paper and charcoal and made a rubbing of all the markings. It was habit. Just in case someone could read it, I was curious about what it meant.

After I had finished I put the paper back in my bag and hoisted my ax, ready to begin the chopping of this huge, fine tree. I took a deep breath, before bringing the tree around quickly. Suddenly, a streak of blue came down from the tree.

“Wait! Don’t!” called a small voice from the blue light. Just before my ax hit the tree, I had a second to redirect its direction, burying it in the dirt instead.

I looked up to the blue light, a small, pretty fairy floated there in front of the tree. Her eyes were wide in fear and she was breathing heavily from her flight to the base. She must have been high up in the tree.

As she caught her breath, she murmured “Oh, thank you. I thought I might have been too late.” I stared at her, trying to figure out what was going on. She seemed to notice my confusion and continued, “Please, don’t cut this tree down. It’s important to my people. We live up there. It’s the oldest tree in the forest. You can have any others, but this one is ours.”

She watched me wearily, probably wondering if I was going to argue with her. But I wasn't. “Okay,” I said. At first, she looked suspicious but I began gathering my things and she seemed to relax a little. “I won’t mess with your tree. Sorry to bother you. If I had known you lived up there I wouldn't have even considered it.”

She looked fully at ease now and smiled at me. “Thank you! You wouldn't believe how many woodsmen come through and still try to cut down our tree after we talk to them. You saved yourself and us a lot of trouble by not pushing it. Since you were so kind and understanding, I’ll grant you your next three wishes… no matter what they are.”

Before I could say anything, she was gone. Were fairies like genies? I didn't know they could grant wishes. I mean, I’d heard a story about a man who makes wooden toys. They say he wished on a blue star, which was actually a fairy and he got a wooden doll turned into a boy. But honestly, I’d always thought that was like, a psychotic, drug induced dream or something. Especially when he started going on about being swallowed by a whale.

Whatever. I’ll think a while and make three really good wishes in a couple days… Just in case. I continued my day like normal. I found another tree, although not as grand as the first. Still, it was suitable. I finally got home, to the smell of my wife cooking stew.

“How close is dinner, honey?” I asked, putting away my tools and changing out of my work clothes.

“It’s running late. Probably about an hour.”

I groaned. “I’m starving. I wish I had a big bowl of pudding in front of me right now.” There was clanking and suddenly, pudding was in front of me.

I stared silently at it while my wife came in to see what the ruckus had been. “Where did you get that?” she asked, looking suspiciously between me and the huge bowl of pudding.

 I recounted my run in with the fairy and she stared at me in disbelief. “You mean you received three, unlimited wishes… and you just used one for a bowl of pudding?” I nodded, realizing that I had just messed up. “How could you not think of that!?” she shrieked. “If I had a wish I would wish for that pudding would stick to your face for your forgetfulness!”

Before I could reply, the pudding jumped out of the bowl, sticking to my face. Now my wife was really shrieking, not knowing what to do. Through the pudding I mumbled, “I wish this pudding would stop sticking to my face.” Just as suddenly as it had stuck, the pudding sloshed back into the bowl. Both of us stared at it wide-eyed.

“I’m so sorry,” my wife whispered. “I didn't think the wish would count if I said it.”

I nodded. “I know. It’s okay. I messed it up first by forgetting to not say ‘I wish’ to anything…” We continued to stare at the bowl.

“Did we just use three magical fairy wishes on one bowl of pudding?” She stared at the pudding in continued shock.

“Yep,” I said. “I think we did.” I picked up a spoon and took a bite. “It’s really good, though.”

My wife sighed and picked up the other spoon. I could swear I heard tiny giggling coming from the window. 

"Fairy with wand" Source

Author's Note: The original story was from the second English Fairy Tales unit, called Three Wishes. Most of the plot points and characters all the same between my story and the original. I added more details and explanations in the story and made the dialogue much more modern. Still, even with the more modern dialogue, I kept the story set in an enchanted forest and small English village close by. I added more detail about the tree and the fairy, but a lot of what I added was at the end of the story. The original pretty much just says that the couple ate the pudding and that was it, but I wanted to show how they felt at their accidental wasting of three wishes on pudding.  

Week 12: More English Fairy Tales Reading Diary

For this week, I read the second English Fairy Tales Unit. Story source: More English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1894).
For Part A, my two favorite stories were the story of Johnny Gloke and the story of the Old Witch.

I liked the story of Johnny Gloke a lot. The beginning of the story made me think of Jack and the Beanstalk, and the ending made me think of a story from the Persian Tales Unit called Muhammad Tirandaz, The Archer. I loved how Johnny knew he couldn't beat the giants so he made them angry at each other to tire themselves out so he could defeat them and claim the prize the king had promised as reward for slaying the giants. I also thought the end was great when Johnny is sent to crush the rebellion, once again knowing he can't defeat it. But his ineptitude, causes the rebellion to end. I thought it was funny how the horse got caught and dragged out the gallows, which the rebels though was Johnny bringing the gallows with him to hang them all. It was an unusual end to a hero-type story. So far, this has been my favorite story of the unit.

The second story that I liked in the first half of this weeks unit was the story of the Old Witch. This story surprised me at many points. I do like the moral that if you help people in need, when you need help they will be there for you. That was clearly seen in the differences in the two sister's experiences, one who helped and got away unscathed and one who didn't and was beaten. I did not like that the first sister got away with stealing the witch's money. While the witch was the antagonist of the story, she didn't seem as evil as other fairy tale witches. She was paying the girl to work as they had agreed. Then after one sister got away with stealing the witch's money, the second decides to go do the same thing once again. Even when the witch caught the second sister, she didn't kill her, which is what I was expecting. I was glad the second girl didn't get away with the money she stole, but also glad the witch didn't kill her. 

For Part B, my two favorite stories were King John and the Abbot of Canterbury, and Rushen Coatie. 

I thought the story of King John and the Abbot of Canterbury was very clever. I don't think I've ever heard a story quite like this one. The shepherd, even being uneducated was very witty and thought ver well on his feet to trick King John into sparing his and the Abbot's life. I thought his answers were really creative. I definitely wouldn't have known how to answer King John's questions but the shepherd did great. I do have to say though I was surprised that the Abbot let the shepherd go in his place. For all the Abbot knew, he was sending the shepherd to his death which was supposed to be the Abbot's fate.

The last story I'm going to talk about, Rushen Coatie was a type of Cinderella story, but there were some interesting differences. I thought that it was interesting how instead of a fairy godmother, Rushen Coatie had a magical red calf that granted her wishes. That seemed really random to me, but it was very unique, especially after the calf was killed but it's bones kept helping Rushen Coatie. I also thought it was interesting that instead of the ball being where Rushen Coatie was forbidden to go, it was church. The three day church event was an interesting place for the Prince and Rushen Coatie to meet. Overall I liked this story a lot. I think I like the Rushen Coatie version of the Cinderella tale more than the Tattercloak version which was earlier in this unit. 

Google Search by Image Tech Tip

For this tech tip I used the first image:

By Raphael "Sistine Madonna" Cherub detail. Wikimedia

The search result led to the Wikipedia page which these cherubs are a small part of, called the "Sistine Madonna" which was painted by Raphael.

Week 11: Haunted Cemetery (Storytelling)

I've always been a relatively normal, unsuperstitious person. I’m in my third year of college. Eventually, I want to be a wardrobe and prop designer for movies and TV shows. I was good at making prop weapons. I created an Etsy shop where I make custom designs. It wasn't like I was making a living by making them, but it was some extra spending money and I loved doing it. So, when my friend, Nick came to me, asking for a prop knife, I jumped on the opportunity.

For Halloween, he decided to be some sort kind of killer ghost from a movie. Anyways, he wanted a ‘ghost dagger’ made out of resin then painted to look like some old magical knife. After making the mold, I showed it to him before I started painting it.  Nick had been researching ghost stories in our area. That’s when he came up with a ridiculous bet.

 “I dare you to paint the knife in the haunted graveyard at night,” he said as his eyes sparkled with the challenge.

I scoffed. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. And no, that’s stupid. Why would I want to go to a cemetery at night to paint something I can paint in the comfort of my own apartment?”

“I’ll pay you double if you paint it in the graveyard tonight.” He didn't think I would do it. 

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Fine. Get ready to pay up.” He took me to the cemetery and showed me the grave I was supposed to work at. According to an internet source Nick swore was reliable, this spot had the most ghost sightings. I rolled my eyes but agreed.

It was much harder to be sarcastic when you were alone at night with headstones surrounding you. The moon was high overhead as I walked through the quiet cemetery. “I don’t believe in ghosts. I don’t believe in ghosts,” I whispered to myself as I moved towards the gravestone that Nick had shown me. The white plastic bag that held my paints, brushes, and the knife swayed in the breeze. 

Finally, I found the headstone marked, James Marcus O’Riley, a man who whose death date was almost a century ago. I took a deep breath before I set down the bag and pulled out my paints for Nick’s ghost knife.

I sank to my knees beside the supplies, leaning against the headstone. My body was tense as my “I don’t believe in ghost” mantra continued to run through my mind. I quickly began painting the knife. I may not believe in ghosts but that doesn't mean I want to spend the whole night in a cemetery.

Suddenly the wind picked up and began swirling leaves around the grave where I sat. My gaze shifted back and forth between the painting job in my hands and scanning my surroundings for movements. I jumped at ever crack of a twig or rustle of a leaf.

Then I saw something moving a few graves down. It was like something coming out of the ground, something translucent. My heartbeat picked up and my hands began to paint faster. I watched a translucent head break the surface of the earth.

In a booming voice it said, “Do you see me? Why have you trespassed this night?”

I stuttered, staring but not believing my eyes. “Yes, I see you. I’m here to paint this… then I’ll be gone.”

Now more of the ghost’s body rose out of the ground as his eyes glared at me. The wind continued to pick up, blowing my hair into my face and sending leaves flying. “Do you see me rising more? Leave this place at once!” His voice continued growing along with the tightening of my chest and the quickness of my breath.

“Yes I see you! But I've got to finish this!” I shrieked in panic. Was an extra thirty bucks worth this? That could be like three meals out. Yes it was. My hands were shaking, slopping the paint a bit. But I kept going, trying to watch the rising ghost and the prop I painted in my hand. I was almost finished. It was much more difficult with the wind slapping my face with hair, grass, and leaves.

Now the ghost was almost completely out of the ground. “Do you see me standing? This is your last warning! Leave now!” I looked down at the knife. Just a couple more seconds and I’d be done.

“Why do you keep asking if I can see you?” I yelled, my voice breaking in panic. “Can you see how much I’m shaking? Obviously I’m terrified of you! But I need money to afford to eat something besides Taco Bell!” My eyes stung, whether from tears of fright or the continual dirt the heavy wind threw into them, I’ll never know. I glanced down. The painting was done and the ghost was completely above ground. I grabbed the knife, trying to keep the still wet paint from smearing. With the knife in one hand, I grabbed all the supplies I could reach in the others and took off. I left some paint bottles behind but I didn't care.

As I ran I heard shouts behind me. Mistakenly I turned around. The ghost was chasing me. I ran as fast as I could through the cemetery. The wind was so intense it obstructed my vision, but finally I saw Nick sitting in his car in the parking lot. I turned one last time; the ghost was getting closer. I yanked open the door breathing hard. “Go! Now!” I screamed. The ghost would catch up in a few seconds.

Nick did as I asked but looked concerned. “Why were you running?” I looked back towards the ghost again. There was nothing. The night air was still. I didn't answer as Nick drove away. I just stared, trying to find any trace of the ghost that I hadn't believed in. 

"Ancient Cemetery" Source

Author's Note: The original story was from the Celtic Fairy Tales called The Sprightly Tailor. In the story a tailor who doesn't believe in ghosts is commissioned to make a wealthy man a pair of shoes. the man says he will pay the man more money if he makes the shoes in a haunted cemetery. The tailor does. As a ghost slowly rises from the ground, the tailor inists that he will leave as soon as he finishes the shoes to claim receive is bigger price. When the ghost fully rises from the ground and the man finishes the ghost chases him away.

For my story I made it a modern day setting and changed the characters and what was being made in the cemetery, but the overall plot stayed the same. I picked this story because I thought it was very fitting for Halloween being later this week. 

Week 11: Celtic Fairy Tales Reading Diary

This week I read the Celtic Fairy Tales reading unit. Story source: Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1892).

For Part A my favorite stories were The Shepherd of Myddvai and Gold-Tree and Silver-Tree.

The story of the  Shepherd of Myddvai surprised me. I had heard some similar stories before, but the endings were never like this one. Other stories I had heard that were like this one started the same, where a man won over a mystical woman and she said she would be a good wife to him if he didn't hurt her. In the other stories I had read, they usually ended with the man beating her and she either left and took the children and everything they owned back to her mystical land or she killed him. But this one, I felt sorry for the man. When she said that when he tapped on her shoulder, he had  "struck her without cause" it surprised me. All of the times she said he "struck her" were innocent gestures. It almost seemed like she was trying to find any excuse to leave. I was also surprised that she left her children behind, and only visited them once more when they became adults.

The second story that I liked in the first half of the readings was Gold-Tree and Silver-Tree, which was a version of Snow White. One thing I liked about this telling of the tale was that Gold-Tree (the Snow White of the story) married the prince before she was poisoned by her mother, Silver-Tree. I also found it interesting that while the father knew his wife wanted to murder their daughter he found her a ship to go and see her on, believing she only wanted to visit, even after she asked the father to kill Gold-Tree and serve the mother her heart and liver. I also thought that it was interesting how after Gold-Tree was poisoned by her mother, the prince didn't think to remove the poisoned stab from her finger before locking her in a separate room.  It took him to remarry and the second wife to resurrect Gold-Tree, and then both wives being okay with both staying.

For Part B my two favorites were the story of Beth Gellert and the Tale of Ivan. 

The Story of Beth Gellert was very sad. I felt awful for the father and the dog. I could definitely see how the father would make the mistake he did by believing his beloved dog had killed his son. I was thinking it as well while reading the story. As soon as the father heard the baby cry I realized what had happened. This reminded me a lot of the scene in Lady and the Tramp when Tramp is taken to the pound because they think he attacked the baby but he was actually saving the child from the rat. In the end it was an honest mistake on the man's part, and it showed how awful he felt for killing the dog. Still, the poor dog must have been so confused and hurt and scared by his master's reaction when the dog had been just protected the baby. 

The last story I'm going to talk about is the Tale of Ivan. This story left me very curious about the master who Ivan worked for for three years. It seems that somehow, the master knew what was going to happen, and withheld the wages to make Ivan pay attention. I was very confused about why Ivan would agree for three years to give up his salary for one piece of advice, but I guess its a good thing he did because head he not he would have gotten robbed, framed for murder, and not had a job when he returned home. I liked that the ending had Ivan's three years wages which he thought he gave up for advice cooked into the cake. Overall I thought this was a clever story. 

Week 10: First Writing Memories (Essay)

From an early age, my parents have little art books with stories in them that I wrote, but I don't have any solid memories of writing those. However, this last summer we went through a lot mine and my brother's old projects like that and it was really fun to read the little stories I had written.

 And through school, I learned cursive in third grade and had little papers and writing projects due throughout schooling. But to me, that was always just school work I had to do. I don't have any distinct memories of school writing before fourth grade.

My first memory of writing often outside of the required school work was when I began fourth grade.

In fourth grade, we had just moved to Colorado and  I was enjoying school for the first time in years. One of the teachers decided to set up a writing club for the fourth and fifth graders. I joined with a friend and once a week we would go to the club on our lunch time and talk about stories and write.

This is when I first thought that I wanted to write for a job when I grew up. I had read books all through my childhood (but that's a different essay). But with this writing club I wanted to make my own. I wanted to make other people feel the escape that I felt when reading.

One of the most vivid memories of this club was the first day, the teacher brought each of the students in the club a Lisa Frank pocket folder.For anyone who didn't go to school somewhere where there was a Lisa Frank craze, those folders and notebooks were like the riches of the class. They were designs of cartoon animals and sometimes people with bright rainbow colors. The girl with the most and best folders may as well have been the queen of the grade.

Lisa Frank Dalmatian Design. Source

The folder I got had two dalmatians with colored spots and paint brushes in their mouths. I'm pretty sure I still have that folder in a box somewhere. But anyways, one side of my folder was crammed full of poems and little stories and the beginnings of longer ones that I never finished. The other side had print outs of writing tips the teacher had given us.

I wrote so much that year that I now have permanent writing callouses on my hands for the first time and one of my fingers had a graphite tint there the pencil lead would rub it.

This is when my passion for writing really began. This is when I began collecting notebooks and folders that would all have random scribbles and poems and stories. While I know I did write earlier. For me, this club in fourth grade was when it all started.

Week 10: Legend of Pleiades (Storytelling)

There once was a young man, who never fit in with his village. He was a daydreamer and never connected well with people his age. Instead of going hunting with the others, he would rather watch the clouds in the day and the stars at night. He would lie in the grass, looking up, imagining what it would be like to live sky. But the other villagers believed that reality was where people should stay.They would whisper about the young one who was always lost in his mind.

When his parents insisted he find his own place to live, he moved to the very edge of the village’s land. He built his house on a lake that marked the end of their territory. It was peaceful there. The sunsets and would glisten off the lake and the moon’s path would be reflected across the clear water at night. Here his mind could wander without the judgmental eyes of his village.

Lake Shoreline by Norm Andreiw. Wikimedia

For the first few nights he stayed at the house, the quiet filled the air, broken only by the gentle lapping of water on the bank and the sounds of animals in the distance. One night, a week after the man moved to the lake, he woke to hear voices in the distance. The wind carried soft singing and laughter into his house. He stood quickly and listened to be sure he wasn’t dreaming, but the sounds continued.

He quietly snuck out of his house and followed the sweet sounds. He had rounded the side of the lake, when the sounds became clearer. There was splashing and giggling and singing from a group of girls close by. He continued to walk, trying to find where they were. Finally, he pushed some tree branches to the side to reveal seven young women. They were singing and dancing in the lake, splashing one another and giggling in the moon light.

The young man began to move towards them, when his foot slipped, sending rocks tumbling down the bank. The girls froze, searching for the source of the sound. Before he could move again, all of the young women grouped together and disappeared.  They seemed to somehow ascend into the sky, but they boy didn’t understand how they could. After staring silently at the now calm lake, he made his way back home, trying to work through what he had just seen.

The next morning when he woke, the young man decided it was probably a dream. Yet, he couldn’t shake his curiosity. So he decided to sleep that day, and return to the place he thought he had seen the women that night.

When the sky turned to the darkest shade of blue, he left his home once again. The faint moonlight revealed footprints. Maybe it hadn’t been a dream. He made it to the other side of the lake. When he reached the tree line, a scuffmark was etched into the ground where his foot had slipped. The man walked a few steps forward and sat on the rocky bank of the lake to wait for the women he was certain wouldn’t come.

For a few hours, nothing happened. The man watched the stars and the rippling of the water as the wind brushed across it. As he gazed up again, he looked for patterns in the stars. Suddenly, the star he was looking at dimmed, and seemed to streak toward the earth. He sat up. He shifted his gaze back to the lake, where one of the women stood before him, the water rising a little above her ankles.

She looked at the man suspiciously. Her only movements were the wind catching her long dark hair and her eyes looking over the man and the forest behind him. When she spoke, her voice was as clear and beautiful as the man had heard the night before. “You were the one spying on my sisters and I last night?” An angry edge seeped into her soft voice.

“I… I didn’t mean to spy on you,” he stuttered. “I just heard the singing…”

She continued to watch him cautiously. “So, why are you here now?”

“To… uh… to see if I imagined you… and apologize for startling you, too.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the woman or form a coherent thought. She began to relax a little, although she didn’t move any closer.

She looked up at the sky and nodded. He managed to tear his gaze from the woman to see six other stars streaking towards the earth. Then there were six women standing behind the first. Her sisters.

“This man means us no harm,” she said to the girls standing behind her. He nodded, trying to reassure them. That night he stayed by the side of the lake. The younger sisters played in the water. The middle sisters sang and danced together. The oldest, the first woman to come down, sat with the man and they talked.

She asked him about his life and world. She told him about their lives, living in the stars. Then at the end of the night, she and her sisters rose again into the sky world. For many weeks after, the oldest sister and the man would talk nightly, while her sisters played and sang. During the days, the man waited until he could see her again. Finally, after months of these meetings, he asked the oldest sister to marry him.

She told him she wanted to but she couldn’t leave her sisters. They sat in silence for a while before she said, “Would you come with us? I know you have your family here, but you could come and live in the sky with us if you wanted.” After some thought, the man agreed. He and the seven sisters ascended to the sky. Even today, in the night, you can see the seven sisters shining bright. But one stays close to another star, her husband. This is the constellation Pleiades. 

Pleiades by NASA. Wikimedia.

Author's Note: The original story was called The Origin of the Pleiades from the British North America reading unit. I kept the overall plot the same, and the third person narrative, but I changed a lot of details in the plot and added more back story. In the original, the young man just spied on the seven sisters for a long time and never approached or talked to them. When he decided he wanted to marry one of the women, he ran at them from the trees and just grabbed the most beautiful one before she could get away. He then said she would be his wife and would stay on earth with him. The woman agreed to be his wife but said that he had to go to the sky world with her for them to marry. I wanted a less creepy/stalkery version of the main guy and a bit more of a romantic story, instead of a type of bride capture. 

Story source: Myths and Legends of British North America by Katharine Berry Judson (1917). 

Week 10: British North America Reading Diary

For this unit I read the British North America Folklore unit.

For part A, I had two favorite stories, Creation of the Earth, and The Burning of the World.

The Creation of the Earth story, was unlike any creation myth I had heard before. Like most myths, the story says that in the beginning there was nothing, only blankness. However, there were also living things (people or personification?). I'm not quite sure how all of the characters Earth, Sun, Moon, and Stars change from the beginning to the end. In the end, the everything is placed by an the Old Man, who seems to have a god like role in the creation and placement of the universe. But at first, the characters seem to be much more human like where they live in a house together, although I'm not sure why there's a house in all of the blankness the story describes. I'm also not sure where the Old Man came from, because he wasn't mentioned as one of the exceptions to the nothingness in the beginning as the other characters were.

(Thompson River, photo by A. Bowden)

The Other Story I liked was the Burning World. It reminded me a lot of Noah's ark, except fire instead of water. Similarly to the Noah story, very few people (besides the man's mother and sister) believed him that the world would burn. I thought it was very interesting how in the story, the animals seem to want to switch roles with each other and the man has to straighten out their role in the ecosystem. This part of the story reminded me of Adam in the Garden of Eden. Only this story was much more entertaining. I loved how the animals tried to convince him that they should be something else. My favorite was how the rabbit jumped into the water to try and be like the beaver.

"Fire" Source: Wikimedia

Week 9: Fire Thieves (Storytelling)

My sister and I sat by the warm fire in our hut. I could hear the wind whipping outside. A smiled when I thought of the chill that would surround all of the nearby tribe. Unlike us they were without fire. We’d taken it.

My sister and I had lived in peace for many years with our husbands. But one day, a new tribe came onto our land. We welcomed them to visit. We gave them food and water after their long journey to our home. As they explored our land the following days, they decided it was more bountiful than theirs. And they had a tribe of thirty, while our group was just four.

When I shut my eyes, I could still see my husband yelling at them to leave us alone. That it was our land, but they were welcome to share a part of it. I can’t untangle that memory from the memory of the blood.  They let my sister and I live.

While I was always pretty, my sister was clever. She asked the gods for help, and they did. They taught her how to capture fire. Now fire was ours. It still wasn’t the retribution we wanted for our husbands’ deaths, but it was a small consolation prize to know they were living off of our land, but freezing and unable to cook.

I sat at the fire one night, as my sister was collecting water to boil, when a coyote approached. My sister had warned me about coyotes. The gods had granted them deception and cleverness. But I was a human, the coyote wouldn't outsmart me.

“It’s quite cold out,” the coyote said, while eyeing our fire.  

I studied him for a moment before responding. “Yes. It is. We stole the fire from the tribe to the North. But we have no hatred for you. You should warm yourself by the fire, Coyote.” He pranced in, thanking me repeatedly. He laid down across from where I sat in our hut. We talked a bit about the weather. I had never met a coyote before, but this one was very funny and insightful.

Soon my sister returned from her water and wood run. She stopped suddenly when she saw the coyote laying by the crackling flames. “What is this?” she asked.

“Sister, this is Coyote. He was cold. He isn't a part of the tribe who wronged us, so I let him in.” My sister’s gaze flitted between the coyote and me. My sister said nothing for the rest of the night and neither did Coyote. I fell asleep a little while later. The two were still staring at each other as I drifted off.

The next morning Coyote left. I was sad to see him go, but my sister seemed relieved.  But to my surprise, the next night he returned with the same request. I invited him in once again, as my sister nervously began watching the Coyote again.

But then, I began hearing rustling and crunching outside. Before I knew what was happening, a man from the Northern tribe rushed into our hut. As quick as lightning, Coyote grabbed a stick from the fire in his mouth and took off running. My sister and I ran outside after the Coyote and the man, but by then we could see the fire disappearing into the distance. 

(Coyote, by Larry1732)

Author's note: The original story was called The Theft of Fire. The story was about two women who stole fire from a neighboring tribe, and a coyote who helps the tribe retrieve the fire. I made one of the women the Point of View character and I gave her more of a back story, along with the other woman I made her sister. While the back story is all made up, I thought that they should be a little more sympathetic than the original story, because they did let the Coyote share the fire two nights in a role. 

Week 9: California and the Old Southwest (Reading Diary)

For the California and the Old Southwest reading unit, click here.

For part A my favorite stories were The Creation of Man and the Creation of Mankind and the Flood.

The Creation of Man was unlike any creation story I had ever heard, but I felt as though it showed a lot of natural human tendencies through the animals of the story. This story was from the Minwok people from California. It was a story which took place after Coyote created the world (which I think is interesting in itself that there isn't a divine being, but an animal creator). I thought it was very interesting how the animals together consciously decided to create man. Also, how they went about doing it was very unique. With the animals forming a type of council to decide what humans should look like, with the animals basically ranked according to hierarchy around the circle was fascinating. I think that the ideas for man's appearance by the animals revealed human nature, in that we often think the people in charge should look, act, and think as we do. It was only coyote, who was the most clever, who could think outside of himself to create a superior being that didn't look as he, or any other animal did. I thought this was a very unique story.

(Coyote)

The second story I liked from the first section was the creation of mankind and the flood. Unlike the first story, this story was from the Pima tribe in Arizona. One reason I found this, and the other flood story in the unit, is the similarities cross culturally, around the world of flood stories. In this story the flood is caused because of a competition to rule the world, between Earth Doctor, Coyote, and Elder Brother. In Greek and Roman religions, which I have taken a couple classes over, there are also worldwide flood stories, as well as in Christianity, Mesopotamian and Babylonian cultures. I find it very interesting that total earth destroying/purifying flood stories are found in so many religions and cultures around the world. 

"The Deluge" By John Martin Wikimedia

For part B, my favorite stories were Coyote's Eyes and The Children of the Cloud.

I thought the story about the Coyote's eyes was bizarre but intriguing. The last thing I was expecting when the coyote asked the bird about his beauty, was for the bird to take out his own eyes, throw them in the air, then call them back down into his head, at which time they would be cleaned. Then the coyote deciding to do this multiple times was also weird but interesting, so he could get his eyes as clear as he could. But then, when the eyes didn't come back down, I was also shocked when instead of finding the coyote's eyes the bird just made him yellow eyes out of pinon tree gum, which are still what coyote's ares are according to the story. It was definitely a unique and unusual myth about the often-featured coyotes. 

(Coyote, by Larry1732)

I also thought the Children of the Cloud story was very unique and interesting. Unlike, say demigods, the children in this story seem to be the children of a human woman and a primordial force which sort of has a human life and appearance. I was never quite sure what to think about Uncle Wind and Father Cloud. I thought it was interesting that he insisted on testing the boys more than once. I'm pretty sure normal children can't usually create thunder and lightning at will, so I didn't understand why Cloud needed further proof of their paternity, nor how them not drowning proved they were part cloud. But these types of stories are meant to be taken at face value, so I know I'm reading too much into them, but those were my main thoughts about this story. 

"Dreamy Twilight" by Jessie Eastland. Wikimedia