Week 13 Story: Journey to the Stars

Ruth smiled as she watched her granddaughter, Molly, from the porch. The little girl was spinning ‘round and ‘round, alternating her gaze from the billowing fabric of her dress to the darkening sky above her.

“Ah!” exclaimed Molly, momentarily stopping her dance and swaying from dizziness. She pointed toward the sky. “The first star’s out, Grandma!”

“Oh, she’s looking lovely tonight,” said Ruth, following her granddaughter’s pointer finger to the budding light.

“She sure is,” echoed Molly. She began to spin again, but stopped. “Gosh, Grandma, I wish I could play with them.”

“With who, now?” asked Ruth.

“With the stars, Grandma!” said Molly impatiently.

The skin around Ruth’s eyes creased as she broke into a grin. “You know, Molly,” she said, “you sound just like me when I was your age. I wanted to play with the stars, too. And you know what?”

“What? What?”

“I did!” said Ruth proudly.

Molly stared at her with wide eyes full of wonder. She looked up at the stars, and they seemed so impossibly far away. But if Grandma had done it…

She climbed up onto the porch. “Tell me how, Grandma, tell me!” she squealed excitedly.

“Alright, honey,” said Ruth, chuckling. “I’ll tell you, but don’t go getting any ideas, now!”

After Molly promised that she certainly wouldn’t get any ideas, Ruth began her tale.

“As I said, when I was your age, all I wanted was to play with the stars. My parents brought home all sorts of little toys for me, but the excitement always wore off so quickly. But the draw of the stars: that never wore off for me! I’d talk about it constantly, and every evening I’d greet the stars as they came out to see me. But, as you know, they were too far to play with me.

“I’d talk and talk about meeting the stars, and of course no one thought it was possible. They all said, ‘You silly girl, Ruth, you’ll never meet the stars!’

“Now, I got tired of that talk very quickly. So I went off on my own. That’s right, I ran away to look for the stars!”

Molly gasped and broke into a peal of giggles.

“What did I tell you about not getting any ideas, Molly?” said Ruth sternly, before laughing along with her granddaughter.

“Well, anyway, I ran away, and I decided to ask everyone and everything I came across to tell me how to get to the stars. First I came across a pond, and I asked her if she knew where the stars were. She said that they would shine right there on her surface every night. So I went in and swam around, but I couldn’t find anything. You know, the science education wasn’t what it is now, and we didn’t know about reflection.”

“Grandma, that’s silly!” exclaimed Molly. “Ponds don’t talk!”

“Oh, you’d be surprised, honey,” said Ruth with a wink. She continued, “Then, I found a brooklet. He sang very nicely and was very kind to me, and he also said that the stars shone in his water each night. So I swam around the brooklet, too, but I didn’t find the stars there.

“I was feeling quite disappointed by now, but I still felt hopeful that I could find my playmates. So I kept walking until I came to the most beautiful meadow I had ever seen. It was filled to the brim with colorful flowers and butterflies. But as I got closer, I saw that there weren’t any flowers or butterflies at all, but tons and tons of fairies!”

“Fairies?” said Molly softly. “Everybody says those aren’t real! Were there really fairies, Grandma?”

“Child, don’t tell me you can believe in playing stars and talking ponds but not in fairies! Where do you think all the magic comes from?” said Ruth. “Well, the fairies told me that if I danced with them I might see the stars shining on the grass, but I danced until I was dizzy and sweaty and the stars never came out to greet me. So I sat right there in the meadow and cried ‘til my eyes were sore.

“But then, I heard the most beautiful song I had ever witnessed, and I realized that the fairies were singing. They were trying to help me! And I saw a great big golden staircase come down from the sky. I climbed and climbed all night, and when I got to the top, there were the stars. We danced and sang and spun around together, and when I started to miss my parents, they helped me get home.”

She looked out at the sky, which was quite dark now except for the constellations. “But that journey home is a story for another night,” she said mysteriously. Molly nodded and looked toward the sky, smiling. Although she had promised her grandma that she wouldn’t get any ideas, she had gotten a lot of ideas.

Author's Note: This story is based on "The Stars in the Sky," a British fairy tale. In the original story, a young girl goes out to find the stars so that she can play with them. She meets a milldam, a brooklet, and the "Good Folk" (whom I imagined as fairies), but can't find the stars. The Good Folk tell her a riddle, and she eventually is carried by a horse and a fish to a staircase with no steps. She climbs and climbs, but never finds the stars, and she eventually falls and finds herself back at home, where she weeps bitterly. I simplified the plot by taking out the horse and fish, and I changed the ending so that the girl met her goal, because I didn't see any reason for her not to! I decided to have the girl tell the story in old age, looking back, and I thought that an excited, star-obsessed granddaughter would be a great audience for her.

Image Information: Grandma telling story. Source: Pixabay.

Bibliography: "The Stars in the Sky" from More English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs. Link to the reading online.

Week 11 Story: The First Day of Summer

The people of the earth were in crisis.

It had all started during the night. Though the evening was bitterly cold because it was the dead of winter (as it always was), the men had woken up in the early hours of the morning sweating. They had to remove many layers before they could find comfort, and for the majority of them it was the first time they had slept with such little insulation.

Then in the morning, when the children got up and ran out to play in the snow, most of them came back inside crying. “Where is the snow?” they demanded. “How will we play?”

The more adventurous children were rolling in the grass and smelling the flowers that grew where before there had been only a thick layer of hard snow. They listened to the strange music in the air, which they would later identify as birds singing. They looked up at the sun, so much brighter than they had ever seen it, and marveled at the new light blue color of the sky.

(If this simply sounds like the arrival of another summer, you must realize that this is not the story of any spring, but the first summer. The earth had only known winter before this day.)

Eventually, the parents of the more hesitant children coaxed them into playing with the others, though the adults themselves were quite frightened by the warmth and the greenness of the ground that had always been white. As the children explored their transformed surroundings, they began to wonder why the earth was suddenly so different.

“I heard my father say this morning that he heard from a wise man who heard from a lynx that the sky was cracked open last night and we brought summer in from the world above us,” piped up the most daring boy.

“Summer?” asked his friend.

“It’s the warmth and the greenness and the flowers,” said the first boy, proud of himself for being so informed.

The boy was right: the night before, a hunter from a nearby village had gone with a lynx, an otter, a beaver, and a wolverine to a very tall mountain. The wolverine had jumped until he broke open the sky, and the warm weather and birds had come in from the world above the earth. The hunter and the animals knew that summer was very beautiful and comfortable, and they never could have predicted the scare that it would give the rest of earth’s inhabitants.

The heat, though it was only what we would now consider a mild spring day, was so oppressive to the people that they could hardly bear it. All their outdoor clothes were too thick, and they struggled to walk even short distances.

The ice used to store meat was melting. The birds’ songs were too loud and distracting to people who had only known the sound of winter wind. The flowers made the people’s eyes water and noses itch. And halfway through the day, children began to come home with red, burning skin from being out in the sun for too long.

Although husbands had been complaining to their wives just the previous evening of the cold making it too difficult to hunt, and although wives had been complaining to their husbands that they were tired of making socks and hats to keep the children warm, the people found summer to be an unwelcome visitor. They formed a council to gather up the warm weather and send it back to the world in the sky.

Clearly, the people of the earth never succeeded in returning summer to where it came from. To this day, we still spend our summers wishing for winter and our winters wishing for summer.

Author's Note: This story is a sequel of "How the Summer Came," which is a Native American story. In the original story, a hunter named O-Jeeg decides to retrieve summer from the world above the earth after his son begs him to. He travels with a lynx, an otter, a beaver, and a wolverine to visit a magician, who tells them that if they climb a certain tall mountain, they will be able to break the ceiling of the sky and bring summer down from the world above. The wolverine is able to jump and make a hole in the ceiling of the sky, and summer rushes down onto earth. O-Jeeg enters the sky world and takes the birds out of their cages so they, too, can come to earth. He seals the hole and is caught and killed by the sky people, who are angry that their world has been invaded, but he is happy that he has brought something wonderful to the world. For my sequel, I wanted to imagine how people would react to experiencing summer for the first time. At first, I thought it would be wonderful, but then I thought it would be funny for the people to hate summer and want winter back.

Bibliography: "How the Summer Came" from American Indian Fairy Tales by W. T. Larned. Link to the reading online.

Image Information: Spring in the meadows, Edinburgh. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Week 10 Story: Cody and the Growing Bed

Every child, sooner or later, reaches an age where he or she simply refuses to go to bed. The most popular antidote to this problem is the bedtime story. Young Cody had just reached this ripe old age, and he demanded a story from his mother each night. Of course, she didn't mind. She loved to tell stories to Cody, although it was getting harder to find new ones each night.

One day, she came across a very old story from the Native American people of Yosemite Valley. She couldn't wait to tell it to her son, because it featured two young boys around his age. After getting him settled into bed (with much difficulty) she cleared her throat, put on her most theatrical voice, and began.

"Once upon a time, long long ago, there lived two little boys named Wody and Shmody," she declared. Cody giggled and made a face at the names, but he was very happy for the characters to be named after him.

"Wody and Shmody loved to swim in the river by their home, and they especially loved to lie out in the warm sun after a long day of swimming. Sometimes they were so tired from playing and so comfortable on the sunny rock that they would fall asleep. One day, the boys slept for so long that the rock grew and grew up to the sky with them still on it! They were so fast asleep that they had no idea they were getting farther and farther from earth."

Cody smiled at the boys' foolishness, imagining what it would be like to wake up in the sky.

"The boys' parents missed them very much, and they asked for help from all the nearby animals to get them down from the rock. The rabbit went to the rock and jumped as high as she could, but the rock was too high for her. The grizzly bear went to the rock and jumped as high as he could, but still the boys were too high up. Even the lion and the kangaroo jumped, but they couldn't make it either. The parents cried and cried, but then they noticed a tiny worm crawling up the side of the rock. It crawled  until it was out of sight, and when it came back, it held the boys on its back."

Cody was quite young, but he knew that worms were too small to carry boys on their backs. He laughed and laughed at such a silly idea, and his laughs got softer and slower until he fell asleep.

Hours later, Cody woke up shivering. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see only a twinkling black surrounding him, rather than his familiar nightlight. Looking down, he saw his house and yard getting smaller and smaller. He could just barely make out a hole in the middle of the roof, and suddenly he realized that his bed was growing taller and had smashed through the ceiling! 

Too curious to be panicked, Cody scooted to the edge of his bed to get his bearings. He saw that the trees were already far below him, and even the skyscrapers out in the distance were not quite as high as he was! He was filled with excitement to be so far above the world, but he began to grow very cold and wished to return to his warm room.

"Perhaps a worm will come rescue me," he thought, remembering the bedtime story. He waited very patiently (as patiently as a boy his age can, anyway) and even peered over the side of his bed to look for a sign of his rescuer. He saw no worm. Patience does not last long in young people, so little Cody decided to take matters into his own hands.

As he tried to think of a plan, his bed continued to grow. He was so high that he could see stars all around him! "Stars," he called to them, "My bed has been growing all night, and I would like to go back home, but I don't know how. Can you help me, please?"

The star nearest him beamed with concern and called back, "Just hop off our backs, like trampolines! We will be able to help you down safely part of the way. But we don't go all the way down, so you'll have to get help from someone else after a while."

Cody was grateful for the star's help and could see no better option, so he took a daring leap off his bed and onto the star's back. It was very bouncy, and he jumped down diagonally from star to star, whooping with joy all the way.

Suddenly, he saw no more stars below him and grew very scared. But the last star noticed his predicament, and she called out to her cloud friend. "Cloud," she said, "please help this boy get down to earth. Hurry, catch him!" 

The cloud whooshed over to the boy. "Just flop down on my back and I will float you down as far as I can," she said. Cody spread himself out and landed on the cloud, marveling at how soft and comfortable it was.

The cloud carried the boy for a long time but reached a point where she couldn't go any farther. "I know!" she said. "I will rain, and you can grab onto one of my droplets to reach the ground." 

Cody grabbed onto the droplet, and although it was very slippery, he managed to hold onto it until his feet touched the familiar grass of his backyard. Exhausted, elated from the adventure, and grateful to be home, he went inside and found his bed returned to normal and the hole in his ceiling fixed. 

"I sure have a good bedtime story to tell Mom tomorrow night," he thought as he drifted back to sleep.

Author's Note: This story is a retelling of "The Legend of Tu-Tok-A-Nu'-La (El Capitan)," a Native American story from Yosemite Valley. The original story tells how the rock Tu-Tok-A-Nu'-La (also called El Capitan) was formed. The bedtime story that the mother tells in my story follows the exact same plot as the original story. I thought it would be a nice bedtime story because of the fantastical nature of the growing rock and the worm as a rescuer. I made up the boy's dream, wondering what would happen if there was no worm to rescue him off the growing rock (or bed, in his case). I thought that maybe instead of animals going up to rescue him, inanimate objects already up in the sky could help the boy get down.

Bibliography: "The Legend of Tu-Tok-A-Nu'-La (El Capitan)" from Myths and Legends of California and the Old Southwest by Katharine Berry Judson. Link to the reading online.

Image Information: View of Newark, New Jersey, from airplane. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Week 9 Story: The Fisherman and the Mermaid

Life as a fisherman is difficult and unpredictable, especially for those who can catch only enough to support their family. For these fisherman, a simple mistake can put their wives and children in danger of starvation. Perhaps this will explain why, when he dropped the bulk of his catch in the murky Gulf of Guinea, a certain fisherman made the daring decision to dive down and look for it underwater.

Struggling to keep his eyes open in the water, he dove down and down until he thought he would have to resign and come up for air. Suddenly, though, a sweet note of music shot through the deep waters like a ray of sunlight. Enraptured by the sound, he forgot about oxygen for just a moment, which was long enough to push deeper underwater and break through a barrier into fresh air.

Stunned, relieved to breathe again, and a little unsure of whether he was dead or alive, the fisherman almost became deaf to the music encircling him. But when he regained his senses, he looked down to see the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen singing with a voice like honey.

He slowly floated down, closer to the mermaid. She had green eyes and green hair that extended in many directions like seaweed. She held a lyre, which she strummed softly as she sang, tilting her head and occasionally closing her eyes.

Mermaid. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

The mermaid’s song was unintelligible to the man. He wondered if mermaids had their own language and whether they would be able to speak. As if to answer his question, she ended her song and said, “You’ve been listening to my song for a long time now. It is time for you to ascend again, but I will be happy to share my music at your next visit. However, you must promise never to tell anyone else about me.”

The fisherman could only nod, so enchanted and shocked was he by the mermaid. She pointed toward a golden staircase, which he used to return to his boat. Forgetting all about his lost catch, he paddled to shore in a trance.

After their first encounter, the fisherman came back every day to see the mermaid. He would boldly jump out of his boat and into the water, swimming down as fast as he could until he heard the music and felt the sweet relief of air in his lungs. Every day as he left, she would remind him of her request that he never speak of her to others.

The mermaid was very kind to sing for the fisherman day after day. She preferred to sing for herself and didn’t want a spectacle to be made of her, but she generously shared her voice, sometimes for hours each day.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the fisherman to take the mermaid’s gift for granted. He began to stay for longer and longer, and he expected the music rather than asking for it. In his greed for her music, he started to worry that she wouldn’t always be in their spot, ready to sing for him. One day, he hid a chain and key under his shirt and quickly chained her to the staircase while her eyes were closed in song.

As he ascended the staircase, she grabbed his ankle and said, “I will not be your show pony. I sing because there is a song in my heart, but if you take away my freedom and try to control me, I will no longer be able to sing. Please let me go.”

The fisherman replied, “You’ve sung for me all these days and you’ll continue to. I feel as if I’ll die without your voice; you can’t take away your song now.”

After that, the mermaid only sang because the fisherman forced her to. Her eyes grew dimmer with each note, and the joyous beauty that made her song so enchanting was gone, although the fisherman refused to acknowledge this.

Even with the mermaid in chains and singing constantly, the fisherman was still unsatisfied. Despite his promise to her, he wanted to show off his mermaid to his friends. One day, he boasted to them that he had his very own mermaid who sang in a foreign language at his command. Of course, none of his friends believed him, but he offered to take them out on his boat and let them see for themselves.

The mermaid, who now never sang for herself, heard many voices above her and realized that the fisherman had broken his promise – her only request. Suddenly, she was no longer forlorn and lifeless, but filled with more anger than she had ever felt. I gave so much of myself, she thought, and I only asked for one thing! But it wasn’t enough to listen to my music; he had to own it.

The men jumped into the water, some more hesitantly than others, and began to follow the fisherman deeper underwater. But before they could reach the fresh air, a storm started to blow. The water swirled wildly, blurring the men’s vision and sweeping them left and right.

“He’s crazy!” shouted one of the men. “He brought us out here so we would all drown together!” Startled, and with the wind pushing them down, the men scrambled for the boat. Believing that the fisherman was trying to kill them, they kept him out of the boat and paddled toward shore.

The storm grew greater and greater in intensity, and the fisherman could not stay afloat. He gasped for air, but the waves pushed him farther and farther down. As he drew his final breath, he heard a sweet voice singing in his language, the mermaid’s last gift to him:

Nothing is ever enough for woman or for man

They’re never content to observe, but always have a plan

To control, to own, to make their own,

Which is why they always end up alone.

Author's Note: This story is based on a West African folktale called "The Hunter and the Tortoise," which is about a hunter who finds a singing tortoise. She sings the same lyrics over and over: "It is man who forces himself on things/Not things which force themselves on him." He comes back to hear her song many times, and eventually he convinces her to come back to his house and sing for him there. She only asks that he will not tell anyone about her. He tells the people of his village about his tortoise, and when they don't believe him, he bets his life that he can prove his claims. He brings the turtle to a gathering the next day against her will, and she does not sing. After the villagers kill the man, she speaks. The people are horrified that they killed an honest man, but the tortoise explains that he brought his death upon himself by taking her from her home and denying her one request, none of which he had to do. I changed the main characters to a fisherman and a mermaid, and I changed the circumstances of the fisherman's death. I also slightly modified the moral of the story: I took "It is man who forces himself on things" to mean that people tend to make the mistake of forcing themselves on others, which has disastrous consequences for everyone involved. I focused more on the aspect of control and manipulation and less on the idea that we make our own consequences.

Bibliography: "The Hunter and the Tortoise" from West African Folktales by William H. Barker and Cecilia Sinclair. Link to the reading online.