Storytelling Week 13: The Princess and the Pea

The Princess and the Pea, by Dulac

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   There once was a Prince who wanted to meet a real princess very much. But not just any princess: he wanted to meet a princess that could identify with him, as he had grown tired of girls always asking him to marry them without knowing anything about him. He knew the reason why most of them asked: they wanted to be endowed with the riches that his kingdom had acquired over his family's legacy. His mother was the main source of his woes, as she only invited the most upwardly mobile girls in society to the citadel celebrations and parties.
   To solve his own problem he set out in the world, traveling to lands wide and far in search of a proper princess that was truly a good person at heart. However, despite all his efforts to conceal his identity, all the princesses he visited found out about him and immediately asked them to be wedded. He suspected his mother was the source of all this, as she had insisted that she come with him and knew his travel itinerary.
   So, the Prince headed back to his castle, depressed into the thought that he would either be forever alone or destined to marry someone whom he didn't love. However," he thought "if chance plays me a good hand, perhaps the princess and I will meet under the guise of luck."
   As fate would have it, an awful storm brewed up one night, one that no ordinary person, especially not a person of nobility, would be willing to risk life and limb in. Nonetheless, there came a knock at the door, and the princes attended his guards as they let the stranger in: it was a young girl, beautiful even with her clothes torn to rags. She tells the Prince that she indeed is a Princess and would very much like to have a place to rest for the night. Before she could tell her story about how she came to be in her worn and torn state, she collapses from exhaustion.
   The Prince orders that she be given as many mattresses for her bed as she pleases, and this number winds up being around twenty or so. Even though her requests throughout the night were decadent, the Prince maintained in his mind that she might be the princess he was looking for. His mother, however, caught wind of the new visitor and couldn't hold herself from intervening. She sneaked into the bed chamber where the lost princess was sleeping and placed a tiny pea under the mattresses. "This", she thought, "would prove whether she was a real princess come morning."
   When morning came, the princess was bathed and refreshed with new clothes. Then the Prince, his mother, and the princess all met in the great eating hall for breakfast. The Prince asked the princess how she slept. "Awfully dreadful!" she exclaimed, "I woke up feeling like I had slept on a rock." The Prince was curious as to why this was the case, and his mother chimed in to say that she had hidden a pea in the mattresses, and if the girl had felt the pea, she would have shown sensitivity enough to be a real princess.
   Trying to overlook this tricky intervention by his mother, he asked the princess to tell him about herself. Immediately, and without almost any hesitation, the girl said,"Well, I had heard of your kingdom's predicament, and I wanted to know if it was truly as terrible as they all say..." The Prince frowned, he knew where this was going. "... And I wanted to know how I could help. My hand is free after all." the princess fluttered her delicate hand at him in a flirty manner. She was absolutely gorgeous, but he knew that no good could come of choosing her. The Prince ate the rest of his breakfast in silence.
    Afterward, he called for a carriage to take the princess back to her kingdom. He looked to the noon-ward sun and said, "Perhaps a real princess doesn't exist. But maybe if I look amongst the commonfolk, I will be able to find a person who is not occupied with wealth or prestige. Maybe then I will find a princess: not a REAL princess, but a good person; noble in heart and soul."

Author's note: I followed the general premises of the original story, but I wanted to change the ending so that the prince wasn't as swayed as he was in the original story by superficial values and pursuits. I think it adds more to the story if the Prince was not merely focused on finding a princess, but someone who he could actually see himself with as a person.
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Storytelling Week 12: The Walrus and the Carpenter

The Walrus and the Carpenter, by John Tenniel

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The Walrus and his business partner the Carpenter had been on Middle-Night Coast for weeks, with no sign of any real source of food or water.

   "What a dirty trick! How could the Red Queen sell us this blasted coast for us to start our sea-food eatery, with not one morsel to be found!" complained the Walrus.

   The Carpenter looked up hungrily, "Not only that, but we've both seemed thinner these past few days. Maybe once we find our sea-food bounty we should eh... try the product to eh... 'test' for quality?"

   "Right you are! Haha! Splendid idea!" replied the Walrus, looking up at the Sun and Moon, who were smiling down on the two of them. The Walrus then stubbed his flipper on one of the bigger rocks that lined the jagged coast. "Blast it!", he exclaimed, "Stop smiling, you two! You've done nothing to help our situation!" The Walrus thought it might be pleasant for their fellow patrons to have a view of the Sun and Moon both gazing down upon them while they dined, but now he was starting to find their presence quite annoying. 

   "OH! That ridge up the way looks just dandy for the foundations!" the Carpenter exclaimed. "Give up will you?... There have been plenty of 'dandy' ridges till this point, but it's not the foundations that matters, it's the source of..." the Walrus stopped "(sniff sniff) Do you smell that?" He rushed to the edge of the ridge, where he could see through the crystal clear waters into the tidal pool below, where-and-behold there were... 

   "OYSTERS, my good man! Oysters!" the Walrus cheered. All the commotion woke up Mother Oyster, who had been sleeping along side her hundreds of children, and she gave a wary eye towards the Walrus. Being in a nearly intoxicated state from lack of water or food, the Walrus collected his businessy wiles and gumption and sauntered down to greet the little colony.

   "Oh little oysters... The time has come to talk of many things - of shoes- and sealing wax- of cabbages- and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings." The Walrus chimed. This was all to much for the young little oysters, not knowing what from what, not knowing that the Walrus sensational words had no substance. Being as gullible as they were, they followed the Walrus to the top of the ridge, where the Carpenter had set up his kitchen shop. And in no time, the Walrus and the Carpenter had tricked and eaten all the Oysters,  every single one. 

   "It seems a shame to play them such a trick, after we've brought them out so far and made them trot so quick..." The Walrus remarked as he felt his now full belly, "I weep for you, I deeply sympathize."

   "What could we have done? We would have gone and starved!" the Carpenter responded.

   "Quite right, quite right! But this is success! We've found our fortune here! On this coast, on this ridge, we'll set-up shop in half-a-year! With such a bounty at our feet, our business has nothing to fear!" the Walrus triumphantly announced. As they built their sea side eatery, the Walrus and the Carpenter laughed and talked, but never forgave themselves about the first oysters they doomed.

Authors Note: I wanted to retell the Walrus and the Carpenter in a way that would make the reader sympathetic to them, because in the original story they are contemptible characters who only think about their selfish thoughts. On top of that, in the original telling they aren't given much background, and that's what makes them not as easy to empathize with as with the oysters who get eaten.

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Bibliography: The Walrus and the Carpenter, from "Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There", by Lewis Carroll (1871)

Storytelling Week 11: Advice from a Caterpillar

Advice from a Caterpillar, by Arthur Rackham (1907)

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   Rabbit heads past me in such a hurry. Oh, why must he must always be so late? Doesn't he know that catch-up is just exhausting? No matter, I have no plans. The queen has hardly sought my council as she does Rabbit's, as useful as she's found it in the past.
   All of a sudden, a strange girl comes sauntering through the brush, her eyes wild with amazelment. What is to be amazeled about? I am simply myself: a caterpillar enjoying his vapors. But judging by the girl's look of bewilderence, she hardly knows a dodo from a dove. Sensibly I ask "Who are you?"
   "I- I hardly know, sir, just at present - at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then" she replies. So indecent to use such absurd reasoning. If she wasn't who she was this morning, how can she know she's different now? Nonetheless I... play along with the poor child, "What do you mean by that? Explain yourself!"
   The unfortunate girl then proceeds to rattle on and on about nonsense. But that is all well and good, since we're all mad here. However, it's very rude to be nonsensical and to simply go nowhere with it! She insists so unreasonably for me to tell her who I am. What an awkward question for someone who has not simply introduced themselves, so I ask again "Who are you?"
   Turning herself about in a huff and marching into the dangerous wilderness, and obviously not knowing where in Wonderland she was heading, I felt it only cautionary to give her a little advice. So I call her back, and I say "Keep your temper." Everyone knows that no one gets truly mad, well I mean angry mad, in Wonderland save for the Queen. And should this little soul come across the Queen, a temper would be the last thing she needs.
   And just to make sure she is of sound mind, I ask her to recite some simple literature, something that any ordinary toddler could memorize. But oh mercy! She continues to spout nonsense and an incorrecticle recitation of "You are old, Father William..." Completely wrong!
   After I have said so, she suddenly expresses a sensible thought: to be her original size! But she does NOT stop there: apparently, according to this ruffian, "Three inches is such a wretched height." The nerve! Nonetheless, I, for the last time, offer my charitable sense to this poor, lost girl. "One side will make you grow taller, and one side will make you grow shorter," I say. She looked bewildered, and I had just about reached the end of my nerve. "THE MUSHROOM OF COURSE!" I announce, and head away. What a nonsensical girl: I hope Wonderland is merciful to her.


Author's note: This story is a retelling of the chapter in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland where Alice meets the Caterpillar. I wanted to retell this story in the Caterpillar's perspective because the Caterpillar actually proves to be the most logical and forward thinking characters in Wonderland. Also, Alice's encounter with the Caterpillar is the first one she has with any creature in Wonderland. Not only that, but it is the first interaction she has while under the influence of Wonderland itself: in the original text, Alice admits that she is thinking nonsensically and with much contradiction during her conversation with the Caterpillar. So I thought it would be interesting to see what things would sound like from the Caterpillar's perspective. He does, afterall, give Alice the most straightforward advice out of all characters from Wonderland: "Keep your temper."

Bibliography: "Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carroll (1865)
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Storytelling Week 10: Retelling of BlueJay and His Companions

A Grouse 

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Bluejay, his master and companions were out one day seal hunting at one of their favorite hunting grounds, when they came across their fellow native, Grouse. After they had caught their fair share of fine seal and the resultant meat, Bluejay and his crew teased Grouse about not being good enough to eat the fat (the most succulent part of the seals) as opposed to the poorest, leanest parts. However, Grouse knew that Bluejay and his crew liked to sleep in their canoes while hunting out late. So, when they had all fallen asleep Grouse quietly pushes the all of the canoes far from the shoreline, and they drift beyond the horizon.

    The group wakes up the next day to find themselves on the coast far from their home. They see another village near the shore however. But as soon as they dare approach the encampment for help, the locals challenge the group to a show of strength, skill and willpower with members of their own tribe. The local tribe says it is merely a right of passage for their grown boys to prove their worth against members of another tribe. If the crew lose these tests, they will be killed. The crew, in quiet dismay, agrees nonetheless.
    The first trial is a climbing contest, for which the most steep cliff is selected nearby. Bluejay tells his crew that if they manage to climb to the top before the young men do, they can try to escape.Once they've all started their climb early in the morning, it takes nearly a quarter of a day for either group to reach the top. However, just as Bluejay's entire crew is about to make it to the top, one of them, Land Otter, slips on a piece of seal fat that he had kept away from Grouse as it slips out of his hip pouch. Land Otter falls into the water below, and Bluejay knows they have to come up with another plan.
    The next challenge is a seal catching contest, and Bluejay feels reasonably good about this: he and his party are the best seal hunters, and canoers, in their tribe. Bluejay tells his men that if they can canoe away from the young men, they'll be able to make it home. They all start out with their canoes on the shore with the rest of the young men, and when the elder of the tribe gives the signal they all push off to the hunting grounds. Now, when Bluejay and his crew spot a wonderful area for seal hunting they dive with their hunting knives in hand, and they manage to catch many seals (4-5 seals each). But as they all start paddling  away from the village, they all feel water leaking into their canoes. They realize that Grouse must have also poked holes in their canoes before he sent them off. So Bluejay and his crew must embarrassingly get back to the shore by swimming, far behind the young men of the tribe who already have their seals caught.
    The last trial is an endurance test: Bluejay's entire crew must stay awake for five days, while pitted against four other men from the tribe. By the fourth day, all of the men in competition were getting excessively weary. Suddenly Bluejay had an idea: he took out the seal fat that he still had in his hip pouch and threw it at Land Otter, who started yelling at him and threw a clump of fat back at Bluejay. This continued until a fight broke out between the members of the crew. The young men in competition with Bluejay's party laughed and laughed at the sorry sight. They laughed so hard that they eventually wore themselves out and fell striaght to sleep. After he was sure that the young tribe-men were fast asleep, Bluejay told his men to stop: they all had bloodied each other quite a bit during the whole ordeal, but they realized then that Bluejay was just trying to keep them awake. Bluejay then urgently whispered to his crew to break for the tribes-men's canoes to escape, and that's exactly what they did.
    However, upon seeing the shore of their home village, Bluejay and his crew see Grouse, lying on the sand, happy as could be with a fresh meal of the most succulent seal meat around.

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"BlueJay and His Companions", from Tales of the North American Indians by Stith Thompson (1929)

Author's Note: I pretty much kept the entirety of the tale the same as it was in the original, except for the black comedy/whimsical angle. The original tale was more of a story of bravery, and this didn't really make it very interesting for me. I thought the story of Bluejay and his companions could really benefit from a retelling that was more funny, but still dark (given the situations that they find themselves in).

Storytelling Week 9: Shin-ge-bis Fools the North Wind

The North Wind, by John Rae (1921)

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It was a tough time for the Fisher Tribe of the Ice: they had wrangled a large batch of fish the month before, but the spirit of the North Wind had become even more intense and the cold over the land prevented anyone from fishing except for Shin-ge-bis. Shin-ge-bis was the best fisherman in the village, as well as a magical shaman and the most intelligent warrior in his village. He had seen the form of the North Wind spirit face to face, and told the spirit in the previous year that he would show his tribe how to survive even the most dire cold that the spirit could muster. However, the spirit did not like to be questioned in his prowess, and he made the cold over the World of Ice slightly more intense every day.
   However, Shin-ge-bis was anticipating that the spirit was watching his tribe suffer, sadistically enjoying that he was able to show his power over them. Shin-ge-bis knew how proud the North Wind was, and so he unveiled his new idea to further enrage the North Wind. He went out into the frozen lake where all the fishermen of the village used to fish (none had been here since it froze completely over), and used a large saw to cut a hole in the ice. Viola! In no time he was able to fish for his village and no one would starve.
   Enraged, the North Wind saw this as a sign of disrespect and called out to Shin-ge-bis as he was setting his wigwam up around the ice-fishing hole, "You dare mock me, little fisherman? I will bring a new blizzard to blow over your fishing hole!" And so a blizzard came, but the snow instead powdered over the wigwam and instead kept Shin-ge-bis out of the wailing wind. Then, as another affront to the spirit, Shin-ge-bis then lit a  fire, which turned into a massive bonfire. Shin-ge-bis knew this was further angering the North Wind, and so he challenged the spirit,"Yoohoo! If you wish to stop me, you must deal with me yourself. Your usual tricks aren't working!" The North Wind then took his man-like form and the two began to wrestle. Despite Shin-ge-bis putting up a admirable struggle, the North Wind threw him against the windward side of the wigwam, and Shin-ge-bis slumped to the ground.
   "I think you're going to need a blow stronger than that to keep me down." Shin-ge-bis boasted, taking out a heavy fur coat and putting it on. The North Wind charged at Shin-ge-bis, riding the waves of his blizzard and slamming Shin-ge-bis against the side of the wigwam. Shin-ge-bis, barely able to stand, murmurs, "Like I said, you'll need to hit me with your best." The North Wind gathered all of his strength and charged Shin-ge-bis, preparing to end it all. But Shin-ge-bis rolled out of the way, allowing the spirit to crash through the wall of the wigwam and into the blazing inferno on the other side. The North Wind spirit yelled in agony and anger, realizing that he had been tricked. As he fled into the Southeast, Summer came to the Land of Ice for the first time ever and Shin-ge-bis saved his village from starvation. Shin-ge-bis also made sure that from then on when the Winter from the North Wind came, the spirit never stayed too long.

Author's Note: I kept most of the narrative points of the original story. However, I made my version into a little bit more of a showdown fight, where Shin-ge-bis had to be more tactical with his decisions. In the original, Shin-ge-bis was more of a natural trickster who was just really clever and managed to beat the North Wind by the exact same method: making him fall into a fire pit. I just wanted to make my rendition more action-based to help keep the reader's attention. I also made the fight between Shin-ge-bis more personal between them, whereas in the original he simply outwitted the North Wind because he thought it would have been fun (even though his village's livelihood was still at stake).

Bibliography: "Shin-ge-bis Fools the North Wind" from American Indian Fairy Tales, by W.T. Larned
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Storytelling Week 7: Goblin of Adachigahara Retold

Magic Circle, by John William Waterhouse (1886)

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As the warrior Saito headed home from his 3 year long job as a police agent, he pondered something that he heard from reports of his hometown: the cannibal of the Adachigahara province was on the rampage again. There was old folk tale about a cannibalistic goblin of the Adachigahara province, who disguised itself as human. Riako worried for his wife Tokio, who was waiting for him at his home in Adachigahara. He thought it was strange that the day he married his wife that the string of attacks stopped the last time the cannibal goblin was killing.

   As the night was beginning to show on the plain overlooking Adachigahara, Saiko finds his way to his home town. Nothing seems to have been disturbed or ruined, and everything seemed hauntingly quiet. He then makes it further into the forest where his and Tokyo's home is. He remembered that the one thing tha3t both his wife and him always wanted was a little home in the woods all to themselves: secluded enough to get peace and quiet, but not too far from town to be isolated. 

   As the wind whistles through the branches of the trees, Saito sees that the only light in the dark valley is coming from his home. He rushes up the porch to the door, hoping nothing has happened to Tokio. But just as he reaches for the door, Tokio comes from the shadow of the porch with a smile on her face. She greets him warmly and offers him dinner on the porch. "It's such a lovely night," she says. So they dine on the porch, and Tokio laments how she's missed Saito. 

   "I think we should head inside where it's warmer." says Saito.

   "Oh, that, I haven't finished cleaning the house yet. I would hate for you to see it now. We can sleep in the guest house tonight." Tokio replies assuredly. "That's where I have been for the past few weeks after all."

   But as they continue the conversation, Saito smells a distinctive scent coming from inside the house that only a warrior would know: the smell of blood. 

   Saito takes Tokio from the porch, then he turns toward the closed front door whispering "What is in the house?" 

   "Like I said, I haven't been there in weeks: I planned to clean it up after getting supplies from town." Tokio repeated, "Our shipments haven't been coming to the house as they usually do." 

   "Haven't you heard? The cannibal is attacking again. Haven't you noticed that's why the shipments haven't been coming in?!" Saito exclaimed, drawing his sword and leaping towards the door prepared.

   "But we have plenty to eat!" Tokio implored to Saito. But Saito didn't hear her, as he was stunned with horror: the entire house was strewn with the bloody remains of the townsfolk. Saito slowly turns back to face Tokio, who, in the wake of pure moonlight, shows her true self: she maintains her womanly beauty, but with the features of a terrible goblin with bat wings, lizard's skin, and the eyes of a cat. 

   "After I married you Saito, I found peace of mind," said Tokio softly "But when you left for your duties, I could not hold myself back any longer.... All I wanted was a little cottage with you, till we both grew old and died together. And we can still have that if you stay."

   Saito raises his sword, but Tokio floats up to his side and whispers in his ear, "Please choose me. Choose happiness. Now choose..."

Author's Note:
This story is a retelling of the Goblin of Adachigahara, which is about a priest who confronts a goblin cannibal disguised as a kind old woman and defeats her. Since the original story was told from a very detached point of view, I wanted to insert an element of personal entanglement to the story to make it more interesting. I thought it would be more enticing if the main character would have the skills and mindset to take down the cannibal goblin, but be conflict about taking the life of his own wife. After all, he could very well live with her as she wanted, or bring justice. And since I didn't know which would be the better ending, I chose to leave it as a cliff-hanger.

Bibliography:
Author: Yei Ozaki; Story: Goblin of Adachigahara; Year of Publication: 1908; Link to story

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Storytelling: Week 6 - Schippietaro Retelling

Schippietaro, by Fredrick Richardson (1862-1937)

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   There was once a boy, named Hiei,  that set out to make a name for himself, as was the tradition of the village boys of Japan once they reached manhood. He set out, using a mountain range covered in forest in the distance as his heading. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew that the mountains were dangerous. There was bound to be some form of challenge that he could add to his name if he overcame it. 

   Once he was in the midst of the forest and he started his upward climb, it began to get dark. Though the forest was closing over him and the wind was howling through the oaks, he spotted a light shimmering through a clearing and then sees a small chapel. Despite the little shack being completely devoid of company, the boy saw that there was a fire already ablaze at the alter. So, he set his things down and started to doze off for the night. But then he woke when he heard some rustling in the rafters: dozens of black cats roamed on the beams and around the alter, chanting, "Don't tell Schippietaro! Keep it hidden and secret! Don't tell Schippietaro!" Even though the boy was in a corner of the alter that he couldn't be seen, he was still frightful. But then, he heard a loud barking in the distance, which kept getting louder and louder. Suddenly, after several moments of silence (because the cats had gone quiet as well), a large hound burst through the alter doors, barking madly at the cats. They all scattered and fled the alter. The dog then sniffed about, and followed Hiei's scent over to him. Hiei was still huddled, cautioned by any movement. But the dog simply just laid beside him and slept with him till morning.  

   When daylight broke, Hiei looked about and saw that the dog was still waiting for him by the alter entrance. "What do you want boy?" Hiei asked. The dog barked and set off running. Not willing to let his new companion out of his sight, Hiei ran after him. They both wound up at a little village in the mountain. When Hiei arrived, he found a crowd of people trying to console a crying woman, who wailed "Don't take my daughter from me! Couldn't there be some other way to appease the mountain demon?" Hiei inquired about this odd circumstance and was told by the village elders that each year the demon of the mountain asks for a young woman to be sacrificed so that he may eat her. Seeing this as his chance for glory, Hiei asked about all about the demon to see how to defeat it. But one of the elders cautioned him, "A young man, like yourself, wanting glory to put to his name, went to conquer the demon. Oddly enough, that was the same day and night that dog appeared. We think he is a spirit in animal form." Before heading back out to the alter that night for the appearance of the mountain demon, Hiei asked the elders to have his sword sharpened which they obliged. He then called to the dog, and headed out just as the sun was setting again.

    The boy reapproached, with the dog growling at his side. They both then step into the alter room and braced themselves. There was the horde of black cats again, but this time they were also dancing around an open top coffin: inside was a girl, who appeared to be in a trance-like sleep but was still breathing. Suddenly, all the cats melted into shadows and accumulated to form a singular, humongous cat, one that dwarfed the dog and boy. The three then fought, in a blurr of steel, fangs, and claws. In the fray, Hiei was thrown to the side, and his sword was broken. In that moment, the giant cat lunged for him with its claws. The dog intercepted the blow and was flung across the room, slumped over and whimpering. Not wasting a moment, Hiei grabbed the broken sword blade and plunged the sharp end into the neck of the cat, which wailed and hissed as it disintegrated into smoke. The boy ran over to the dog, trying to bandage the claw wounds up. "Don't worry, boy, I was the best healer in my village, I know I'll have you better!" Hiei cried. The dog's mouth opened, but instead of a dog's groan, the voice of a young man came out, "Hiei, I am Schippietaro. I am not a spirit, but I was once a boy like you, seeking to make myself into a hero by defeating the mountain spirit. I was turned into a hound by its magic." Hiei stared in disbelief but quickly returned to his healing. "Even if you can't heal me, it will be alright Hiei." Schippietaro continued, "You have helped me to achieve my destiny as a hero, and you own as well. So, thank you."

   Some say that the dog Schippietaro and the boy Hiei still roam the lands of Japan, seeking new adventures. But they nonetheless became legends in their own right, however they both knew that they wouldn't have lived to become heroes and friends if they did not have each other. 

Author's Note:
I don't deviate from the original main story of Schippietaro from the Japanese Fairy Tales. However, I thought it would make more sense to have Schippietaro have more significance than simply the dog of the overseer of the town, as he is in the original story. I thought it would add a lot to the story if Schippietaro was actually a young man that was seeking his last chance at glory with the boy Hiei, after Schippietaro himself had failed to defeat the mountain spirit and was transformed into a dog as a result. 

Here is a link to the original story


Bibliography: Japanese Fairy Tales retold by Andrew Lang, and illustrated by J. H. Ford. Link to unit

Storytelling Week: The Voyages of Sindbad- The Elephants Retold

7th Voyage, by H. J. Ford

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   Even in the throes of mid age, I found my mind and spirit lingering on the possibility of a final adventure. Many times I had gone abroad seeking the spoils of adventure, and every time I had managed to come back empty-handed... but never empty minded. I could tell tale upon tale, even beyond the six before this one. But this story is the last one, and the one that changed my entire perspective on what the rest of my adventures would mean to me for the rest of my days.
   Due to the perilous circumstances that I had braved before, word of my journeys had reached the Sultan of Baghdad. He and his vizier visited me in my humble home, which I had by this time strewn with ornate trinkets from my ventures, as well as the trappings of a stable home life that I then enjoyed. The Sultan asked me to take a message (along with other gifts) to another leader, the King of Serendib. Being promised a more luxurious accommodation of wealth and land to my sea-side home, I accepted.
   I do not have much to say of the journey to Serendibian lands, because it was a very peaceful journey. I almost wished I hadn't brought my entire crew with me, just so I could enjoy the solitary calmness of the ocean and the immaculate coasts of the lands that I visited before delivering my parcels. The King of Serendib accepted all gifts with great grace, and treated me and my crew delightfully. Then the King of Serendib showered us with treasure, many precious items that would make even my Sutlan blush by their purity and worth. After all our business concluded, my crew and I gave our highest praise and longing "farwells" and headed back to the coast of Baghdad. That is where the serene part of the story ends however.
  Our third day out at sea, my vessel encountered a gnashing storm, one that threatened even the fish below with the power of its waves. For three nights we battled this, which reminded me of my first adventures as a young man.  
   One early morning, with the storm still raging, the ship capsized completely. After moments that felt like eternities, the ship somehow righted itself. I heaved water from my throat and insides, catching my wind just as I was losing consciousness. Looking from the top to bottom, I saw none of my crew members. Below deck the treasure was still fastened, but this was the only fortune I was given. I could not man an entire ship on my own, and now that it was far out to sea, there seemed to be no hope. Again, this reminded me when I was stranded on a raft during one of my previous journeys.
   When the weather cleared, my vessel was then suddenly arrested by merchant pirates who confiscated everything I had to show for my trouble. The pirates then dropped me on an island, with nothing but a bow and a quiver of arrows. Their captain said,"Elephants roam this island. If you can have us 100 of their valuable ivories in a month, we will take you back to your homeland." Not being in a position to refuse, I begun my work.
   I used a tall tree to hunt all my game from: small mammals for food, and elephants for their ivory. However, elephants were much more difficult to subdue than I had thought. After many weeks of living on this island with only one day left, I had only collected only a quarter of the ivories that had been requested. I began panicking. "Would they kill me?", I thought, "Is this really how I reach my end?" Suddenly, through the brush I heard a rumbling. After they had cleared the first layers of foliage, I saw them: this was the same herd of elephants that I had been hunting for the past month. But they were all moving quickly in unison, and then I realized they were charging, right towards my tree. They crushed the truck like an avalanche, but somehow I remained unscathed. I was still terrified nonetheless, especially as the matriarch approached me. She gingerly picked me up with her trunk, which was clearly strong enough to snap me into pieces. She carried me away from my fallen tree and weapons, with the rest of the herd trailing behind her.
   We finally stopped at a large pit that must have stretched for a quarter of a kilometer. Inside this pit were the remains of hundreds of dead elephants. Still paralyzed with fear, I yet managed to see the matriarch pick up a piece of a dead elephant up and hold it to me: it was a large, elegant ivory. The herd, guided by the matriarch, started heading away when I realize: they brought me here so that I would not have to kill any more of them. Realizing that I might be saved by the mercy of an animal that I had showed none to, I cried to them "Thank you!"
   The next day I waited for the merchant pirates, but they did not show up. Instead, another ship, bearing the flag of Baghdad sailed along the coast towards me. On the port bow, the Sultan emerged and waved over to me. I was taken aboard and taken care of. I asked the Sultan, "How did you find me?"
   "My vizier interrogated a group of pirates who paraded as merchants, and they revealed your whereabouts.", the Sultan replied. He looked over my sorry state, "It is a pity that you did not manage to hang on to your treasure from the King of Serendib, and we were not able to recover it."
   "True,", I admitted,"but as a troop of locals here taught me: it is not the riches from a voyage that matters most, it is the journey itself."

(*Below this is the 1000 word mark*)

Author's Note: In this retelling of Sindbad's last voyage, I wanted to exploit a message that the original tales don't necessarily get across very directly in my opinion. We always get the idea that Sindbad is addicted to adventure, but he never admits that it is the thrill from embarking on a voyage that truly drives him. In this retelling he does admit it, but only after experiencing many familiar life threatening circumstances.
   So, its important to understand that Sindbad is a sailor who has gone on many adventures in search of riches. Each time he embarks, however, some unusual or life-threatening circumstance puts him and his crew on a completely different path than they originally intended. Sindbad usually winds up alone and is forced to find his way out of his predicament. He always succeeds through great tribulations, and makes it back to Baghdad (his home city) without any kind of treasure whatsoever. Yet he still tells his tales to all his family and friends, and vows to never go adventuring again, which he always winds up doing anyway because of his restless personality.

Here is a link to the story

Bibliography:
The Arabian Nights' Entertainments by Andrew Lang (1898)

Storytelling: Arabian Nights- The Story of the Greek King and Physician Douban Retold

"Arabian Nights", from Good Reads

Link to image

   And so Scheherazade tells the story of the Greek King and physician Douban, in her effort to try and save the girls of her city and their families from the horrible ritual of Sultan Scharhriar: each day the Sultan would marry a new young girl from the city to be his bride, and the next day she would be beheaded at the Sultan's whim. Like clockwork.
   However, the reason for this horrific practice was because of the Sultan's original wife betraying him with a leader of another kingdom, causing him to go mad with grief.
   The girl Scheherazade, who is an enchantress when it comes to storytelling, has been chosen as the Sultan's next bride, and her sister Dinarzade has insisted that she accompany her in the Sultan's palace. Up until now, Scheherazade has been able to stay her fate by offering a story every night for the Sultan to listen to. None of these stories has a true ending, for within each story that Scheherazade tells, a character within that story tells a story of their own to a different character. For one thousand and one nights, Scheherazade has decided to continue to tell these tales to Sultan Scharhriar until she sees that his spirit has changed for the better: hopefully he could find love in her stories again. And Scheherazade felt that tonight was that night.
   Before Scheherazade began her tale, she mentioned a new idea to Sultan Scharhriar,"My Sultan, would he who is as powerful as you indulge in a subtle change to my storytelling?"
   The Sultan replied,"What would be the nature of this suggestion?" Gathering her breath, Scheherazade responded,"That you lend me your voice and your mind to help me tell the story?"
   Scharhriar nodded and motioned her to begin the story. Scheherazade's sister Dinarzade, who was present, leaned toward her sister. "But sister!" Dinarzade urgently whispered in her ear "This gives the Sultan total rule over the story! Surely he will end it and your plan would have been for nothing!"
   "No, it does not." Scheherazade confidently retorted,"In order for him to continue enjoying my stories as he has for many nights before, he must now work together with me to continue it. I want to see if his heart has truly changed." Scheherazade then turned to Scharhriar,"Now where were we?"
 
   ...There was once a Greek King who had contracted a terrible disease that none of his royal aids could alleviate. He also never seemed to muster enough happiness to smile, no matter how joyful the circumstance he might be in. However, there was a wonderful physician, who had been reported to be the best in her corner of the world. She had heard of the King's illness and...-

   "No no..." Scharhriar interjected,"'HIS corner of the globe'... I have heard of Greek Queens, but I have never met OR heard of a woman physician."
   Scheherazade conceded,"Very well, my Sultan. But then the Greek ruler must be a woman, a queen, in order for us to reach the moral of the story."  Scharhriar huffed,"Very well, very well."

   ...He had heard of the youthful, beautiful Greek Queen's illness and decided to test his expert practice. This illness was from an old wound that the Queen had...

   "...And that wound came from her late husband," the Sultan interrupted,"who betrayed her not only in body, but in spirit."
   Scheherazade nodded,"I understand, my Sultan."

   ...So the physician had concocted a remedy, simple to him, that would cure the Greek Queen of her illness. Upon arriving and gracing the Queen in her current state, the physician asked,"...So, my Queen, when was the last time you went to frolic about, or be active for the sake of sport?"
   "Years... Not since shortly after my husband left." the Queen replied.
   The physician nodded,"I see... Might we try that? Perhaps only until you have sweat from your brow?"
   The Queen agreed. So she, the physician, and some of her courtesans played polo for most part of the afternoon until the Queen's brow slightly glistened with sweat. The physician decided to check up on her,"How are you feeling, my lady?"
   "Fine, fine! I haven't had so much fun in years! And now the ache in my head and my chest is slightly lesser." the Queen exclaimed. "Wonderful!" the physician replied,"Let us try tomorrow and see if you feel any better."
   So they did. For a thousand and one days and nights, the physician and the Queen had their sessions of play and sport, exchanging words and feelings of great importance to one another. By the end of this time, the Queen's illness had left her, and she was now smiling again. One night, as the the two were out riding alone under the moonlit sky, the Queen asked,"My dear, you have cured me, when all my other resources had failed me. How?"
   The physician smiled,"The body can never fully heal if the heart and mind remain ill." Realizing the cleverness of the physician, the Queen sighed and smiled back, kissing the physician on the cheek.
   A few days later, the Queen proposed that the physician not only become her court healer, but her husband. He accepted and they were wedded, living out the rest of their years together: laughing with each other in times of good, and helping to heal each other in times of bad. Yet, they had gotten into the unusual habit of telling each other the most wonderful stories, every night before they slept...

   Scharhriar was now smiling at Scheherazade, with a warmth and fondness that he hadn't shown in many years. Dinarzade blushed and looked away. Scheherazade realized that she was now blushing as well, but retained her gaze on the Sultan. "...Would you like to know what stories the physician told the Queen?" she asked.
   "Only if I get to tell the stories that the Queen told the physician." replied Scharhriar, beaming at her."Now, where were we?"

Author's Note:
   In the source story, a Thousand and One Arabian Nights, the girl Scheherazade has decided to become the wife of the Sultan that rules the city in which she lives. This is at the risk of her life, however: due to his wife betraying him with the leader of another kingdom, the Sultan Scharhriar has become mentally ill and adopted the brutal practice of marrying a new girl every night, and killing her the next day. He does this because his wife's betrayal made him convinced that all women were deceitful, and this is the theme to his madness. So Scheherazade becomes his wife as a step in her master plan: to tell him a never-ending string of stories, so that he would have to let her live "one more night" to hear the next tale.
   I chose Scheherazade's tale of the Physician Douban and the Greek King because I thought it would be a great juxtaposition to play on: just as Scheherazade intended to heal the mind of the Sultan with her stories, the physician would heal the Greek Queen. I wanted to add another layer to the narrative that Scheherazade weaves with her stories to Sultan Scharhriar: I wanted mostly to use the story of the physican and the Greek King to lead to a climax in the interactions between the Sultan and Scheherazade. The way I wanted to portray her crafting her story to the Sultan was to make her message abundantly clear: that she wants to heal him from his grief, just like the physician does with the Queen.


Here is a link to the story (The Story of the Greek King and Physician Douban)

Bibliography:
Arabian Nights' Entertainments, by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1898).
 

Brainstorm Storytelling Style

The Seven Ravens, by H. Vogel

Link to Source

My topic is going to be put into the style of a storybook frametale. However, I have a plot already in mind, and it will require more real-world immersion into a different storyline than those of the tales that I will be referencing. And I will be making sure to place my story's emphasis on the frametale structure, while still making sure that the outside, main story arc that I want to write is still being followed.

Style 1- Point of View
   The third person omniscient point of view I think will be essential to how I tell the tale I'm making. However, I plan to make the story narrative very character-centered and switch between the characters. In this way, I want to provide a window into each character's physical presence and mindset, yet remain free enough to be oblivious to details that might spoil the tension of the story.
   The sort of narrative perspective I want to take seems to be best represented by the Grimm Fairy Tales, especially those by Ashliman.

Style 2- Story Structure
   At this point I should say that I have already written my story, but it is a film script right now, and not a novel. The script is currently in a 4 act structure: the initiating event, the turning point, the point of no turn/climax, and the resolution. The plot itself is very long for a film script: 183 pages. If it were to be produced, it would take the shape of an "epic": this would be similar to the structure of Lawrence of Arabia.
   Though I can't identify the four act structure explicitly in the units from the UNTextbook, I anticipate that my story will play out structurally like Homer's Iliad.

Style 3- Avoiding Cliches and using Suspense
   The story itself draws heavily on fairy tale references, primarily because the secondary main character-storyline is about that character making the world around them into their own version of a fairy tale. However, in the interest of keeping the audience engaged, I have made sure to exploit all the fundamental morals and lessons in all of the tales referenced. I do this in such a way so as to lead the audience into a cliche that they might find security in (hinted at by the tale referenced), but then take the plot in a completely new direction at an unexpected juncture. By continually doing this, I am able to build suspense almost unlimitedly. However, like all great stories, there's always a point of no return, and my story has several.
    I think the Decameron by Boccaccio is a good example for comparison for what I intend for my story: it calls into question modern and past stereotypes and uses the satire of them to elevate the tragedy of the plot.

Style 4- My Audience
   Given that the underlying force driving the main plotline in my story is generational sovereignty, I will be focusing my attention on the current teen audience and my generation as well (who aren't quite teens anymore). I plan to visit extremely morally dark and gray territories with the characters in my story. However, this does not mean that I will not try to do my best at making each character defensible: by the end every reader should be able to take a side with at least one character in the story. And only one will truly be the victor, or will they?
   I'm going to make another reference to Alice and Wonderland, is seems to be the closest representation of how I want to relate to my audience.


Bibliography:
Title: ; Author: ; Year of Publication: ; Link to source
Grimm's Fairy Tales; Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm; 1812; Link to source
Iliad; Homer; around 760-710 BC; Link to source
Decameron; Giovanni Boccaccio; translated:1906; Link to source
Alice and Wonderland; Lewis Carroll; 1865; Link to source

Storytelling Week 3: Philemon and Baucis

A couple in the fog...

Image link

Waking in their normal routine, the couple of Philemon and Baucis prepared each other's meager meal of oats. Neither of them expected more or less: they were a impoverished young couple in their early thirties, but had been together for a long time. Yet throughout their financial and practical hardships, their love for each other had kept the other alive. From through the window of their small hut, Philemon noticed that there was a soup-thick fog out that day, and the marsh town that they made their stead seemed eerily quiet. There was not even the sound of the daily fighting and discontent of the townsfolk. Philemon exclaimed, "Nelephon's not even on his feet yet, and he's usually right at work at the forge before anyone has even woken." It was true: not a single soul seemed to be out and about, even though it had been some hours after sunrise.

Philemon and Baucis tried to maintain their normal routine, and not let the mystery of the ghostly emptiness lead them astray. As every morning, and before every night, they both traveled to the temples of Jupiter and Mercury on the hill that overlooked the village to make their respects. After lighting the incense at the altars, the couple synchronized prayed "Most high ruler Jupiter and his best scout messenger Mercury, please hold us our lives together so that we may persevere another day to do our best in your names and for the best of our village, the members of whom have become so unjust to one another in their faults. Praise to the Gods, for peace and good will!"

They exited the temple, noticing that the fog had now moved to cover the entire hill as well as the town. They could see nothing beyond thirty paces, and they started to realize that no mortal soul in the village was left except them. And they were fearful. "Did we anger the gods? What is this new devilry?" Baucis whispered, her voice carrying through the empty, lifeless streets that they both knew so well.

Soon they could not ignore their predicament. "We must leave this town, before we are swallowed up by whatever has taken our neighbors." Baucis declared. Being in full agreement, they both started packing their belongings immediately, but only what they could carry without a mule or a carriage. As they began the last stages of their preparations, the couple heard a pair of deathly screeches out in the fog, which had now become darker from the turn of late afternoon. As Philemon went to the front entrance to investigate, he pleaded with Baucis to stay safe in their bedroom and away from the windows.

Philemon looked through the crack of the doorway out into the foggy village. Then the pair of screeches came again, and Philemon's panicked gaze darted to the sky in the direction of the calls. There in the fog, against the dying light of the sun, were the forms of two birds: an eagle and a robin. However, both of these forms were monstrous in size, and in no way normal to their natural forms. Philemon's grip on the door slipped, causing the wood to crackle. Another screech cut through the haze, and the heads of both the eagle and the robin jarred in Philemon's direction.

Philemon sprinted back to the where Baucis had hidden, whispering to her,"We must find out if any of our neighbors are still among us." Baucis had gathered her dagger and her husband's sword and they stealthily left their home through the back window, just as they both heard the crackling of talons on falling ornaments and dishes from their kitchen.

The couple searched traveled through the residences of all their neighbors like shadows, hoping not to be seen, yet still hearing the blood-curdling screeches through the fog. In all the homes of their fellow townsfolk, the couple found all possessions unattended, and the alters of the gods Jupiter and Hermes removed. "Is this why this spell has befallen us? Because all this time our neighbors were not appreciative of the gods?" Philemon queried. "Come my husband, we must leave before we are taken as well. We must retreat to the safety of the temple."

So the couple sprinted up the hill yet again, seeking the protection of their deities. Once they set down the few belongings they brought, the heavy beating of wings sounded outside, and wind from the entrance of the temple blew fiercely against the pillars and against the faces of the couple. Then silence. After several moments, the clacking of talons against the cold, marble floors echoed all the way up to the altars that the two huddled against. Baucis, whispering desperately to Philemon "Should the dark forms take me first, I wish you to take my things and save yourself.", clinging to her husband more tightly. "No!" replied Philemon,"I would rather neither of us have to live through the agony of facing the world alone." There then stood the two massive raptors, blood on their beaks and talons, the smell of human flesh blowing from their nostrils. Baucis in a fit of frightened madness, offered her and her husbands rations of food as an offering to the altar receptacle, and they both pleaded "Just and powerful Jupiter please deliver us from this fate; we offer you our last rations. If we must be taken, all that we ask is that we are taken together under your guiding wing." Just as the shadows of the massive birds were about to overtake them both, the specters faded, and so did the fog. Then, a singular, powerful, yet soothing voice rang from the top of the altar "Faithful servants of Jupiter and Mercury, you have done well in this time. We thought your town had been devoid of appreciation for the bounty we bring to sustain it year after year, and also devoid of the love for one another as your neighbors have ignored each other's happiness and grievances. But you have proven us wrong. Please, as new persons find stead here, take yourself as new heads of this town. And live in prosperity, without desperation, for the remainder of your existences. Let it be known that, to your gods, your fellow neighbors, and to each other, you both have the indomitable virtue of a good heart."

Author's note:
   The original story of Philemon and Baucis is about an old couple that lived in a marsh town that had no reverence for the Greek Gods. The couple had been together since they were very young, and despite their impoverished state of living, they were still very happy and very much in love with each other. One day, the gods Zeus and Hermes decided to go down to the village disguised as mortals to test the generosity of the village people. At every door that they come to, they are rejected by the residents. The two gods are contemplating destroying the village after seeing that their temples there have been relatively unkempt. But they decide to give one more chance to the village and visit the meager home of Philemon and Baucis. The couple welcome the two disguised gods warmly and go through the tremendous effort of preparing them an elaborate meal and places to rest. The gods, seeing the old couple's generosity, make Philemon and Baucis keepers of their temples, and ensure that they never again live in poverty for the rest of their days.
   For my story, I wanted to try my hand at a horror story. I used the symbols of the eagle and the robin as manifestations of Jupiter and Mercury taking their rage on the marsh village. I changed the reason that the gods were so angry in comparison to the original tale: in my version the Gods are solely angry at the town for their lack of reverence for their divinity. I thought this would add to the horror aspect because I find that there's a lot to be scared of when the gods of fairy tales are angry.

Bibliography:
Story original title: Philemon and Baucis, Author: Ovid, Published: near the beginning of AD
Story link

Storytelling Week 2: My Version of Perseus and Andromeda

Perseus saving Andromeda, link

As Perseus rode the winds of the world, he pondered his most recent exchange with the Gorgan, Medusa. He had indeed relieved her dreaded head with serpents for locks from her shoulders, and made sure that her dead gaze only affected those whom he wished such an ill fate on. He anguished about his role in the ways of the world, mainly: “How is it that a mortal like me can challenge monsters and Gods, where so many mortals before me have failed?” He didn’t know of his lineage, how his father just so happened to be Jupiter who bestowed his seed upon the virgin Danaë. Though he was mortal, he did have the willful power of the divines to overcome those whom even the gods avoided challenging (Medusa’s gaze could indeed turn even the residents of Olympus into stone, despite them being more powerful than her on the whole). Being the survivor of so many battles and calamities so that even the fates were suspected to have played a part, Perseus’ guilt from surviving started to consume him as he looked over the horizons of the world and its people down below.


Perseus could no longer continue this cycle of languishing. He knew that he must be the one to stop himself from despair. “I must rest, and collect my mind.” he thought. He stopped at the first pleasant piece of land that he found: an area with rolling hills of lush grass, with bountiful, untamed livestock, next to a large sea-side mountain. As Perseus laid down to rest in the soft fields, the mountain began to bend over him, and emitted a booming voice, “WHO TRESPASSES HERE?” Perseus awoke with a start. “I, Perseus, son of Danaë! Who speaks?” The mountain’s form then became clearer as it lowered below the clouds: it was Atlas, the titan that held up the heavens. “So, wind rider, why have you come onto my claim on the world?” Atlas asked. “I only come to clear my mind, and if it is not beyond reason, perhaps some rest and food.” Replied Perseus. “OH? And what is it that ails your little mind, wind rider?” boomed Atlas, “Well, I have seen many lives fall before my own, yet I have survived even though I have braved the same perils. Such as my most recent quarry, Medesa the Gorgan!” The chiseled face of Atlas turned pale: he knew of the prophesy he was once told that his land would be overtaken by the beheader of Medusa. He began to raise himself up to his full height preparing to squash Perseus with his great limbs. Perseus, overwhelmed by the impulse of survival, lifted the Gorgan’s head to Atlas’, and in a flash, turned the titan into the mountain that he had mistaken him for in the first place.


Perseus fled. He could not continue this path; he began to consider the option of settling down and living the quiet life for the rest of his days. While riding the winds, several days after his exchange with Atlas, he saw a girl strapped to an obelisk on an island in the western sea. He dove down to investigate, “Lady, why are you in this predicament?” She looked at him, stunned, "My parents, they are powerful leaders of Aetheopia: the civilization of the 'sea breakers', who were gifted by Poseidon the control over all the forces of the sea. They wish me to express my own power, but I cannot. I do not think I am their child. They have put me here: either I must express my power over the sea, or I will be broken by it." Rising out of the waves, headed toward the duo at an increasing pace, was a serpent: larger along its length than even Atlas himself, and twice as fierce-some. "I cannot do anything to save us. I do not have the gift that my parents wish I had, though I would resent it even if I did. I do not want to rule: I just want to be mortal. Happy and mortal." Andromeda said woefully. "M'Lady," Perseus, replied solemnly, drawing his blade,"we may be very different in what we are, but we both share the same dream." The serpent raised itself to its full height, up above the mist of the sea shore, but just so that the glowing reds of its eyes shown through the fog. "I think you possess more potential than you realize. 'Happy and mortal' will come to both of us. But for now," Perseus gazed directly up into the serpent's maw, "we must show the Fates that 'happy and mortal' is worth fighting for."



Author's note:

I wanted to take on a different perspective to the Greek hero epic, especially those that featured heroes which had supernatural births. I would expect, that in real life circumstances, some great heroes (like Hercules, Achilles, and Perseus) would start encountering a great degree of "survivor's guilt" at some point in their lives. It just seemed like such a natural turn for a story to take: what if some of these heroes who possessed the lineage of the Gods were undesiring of their power? What if they were tired of seeing loved ones or friends dying while they stayed alive? Like I said before, the direction of the story seemed so natural if these heroes were put into a real life setting: post-traumatic stress would eventually get into the minds of half-mortals who, because of their supernatural parents, saw the lives of others passing them by.





Bibliography:
I used the story of Perseus and Andromeda found here