Reading Notes: Japanese Fairy Tales (Ozaki) Part A

In the beginning, I loved this collection.

My Lord Bag of Rice seemed like a strange name at first, but I loved the Dragon King's test of courage. For a moment, I thought about changing the Dragon King into the Dragon Queen and making it a stereotypical love story, but I didn't want the Dragon Queen needing to ask this random man for help. I tossed around the idea of a few different variations, but none seemed perfect. I'd love a female warrior and/or a female Dragon Queen, but I think I would end up changing the base idea of the story more than I'd like.

However, I was disappointed in The Adventures of Kintaro. I loved the idea that Kintaro could speak to animals and had animal friends, but the only direction that part of the tale went was a wrestling match that the monkey cheated during. I didn't really find a lot in this tale for me. I wanted more about his relationships or more about him doing something amazing rather than him arm wrestling and lifting a tree out of the ground.

I liked The Man Who Did Not Wish to Die more than The Adventures of Kintaro, but one of my writing professor's main rules is never to end a story with "and then I woke up." So it still wasn't my favorite. I loved the idea of the paper crane however. It was the first origami I learned to fold.

I picked this collection for the story of Hase-Hime, so I think my retelling will be based on that tale from Part B.


Bibliography: "Japanese Fairy Tales" by Yei Theodora Ozaki.

Image Information: "Origami Crane" by Andreas Bauer.

Week Six Storytelling: Violet Eyes

It wasn’t a rooster that woke me in the morning but an unfamiliar man’s voice.

“Nessa! It’s been so long!” His laughter drifted up to me as the horse snorted. I quickly slid my helmet over my head as my mother’s words echoed through my head.

No one can ever know, Alicina. But you are safe as long as you are with me. I touched the smooth purple stone of the necklace she left me.

Leaning over the edge of the loft, I could see the man’s pale skin and brown hair from under the rim of the helmet.

He’s definitely a Barric. I think Charleigh said they have a son. I climbed down the ladder, landing silently on the floor.

“And you are?” I asked quietly, authority and distrust evident in my voice. Even from my limited field of vision, I could see him jump in surprise.

“Who are—oh! My mom talked about you in her letters!” He crossed the room quickly. “Thank you for helping us. I’m Kolos.”

“Alicina.” Light was already beginning to peak through the gaps in the wood of the barn as I heard the rooster crow. Automatically, I turned to start taking care of the animals before heading to the fields.

“Wait! Let me help,” Kolos asked.

“I’m fine.”

“No really! Just give me something to do.” The childish excitement in his voice made him seem younger than me. “Please? I promise I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Alright.”

*

It felt strange to finish my work before the sun did. When I headed into the kitchen, laughter filled it instead of the usual silence.

“Alicina!” Charleigh wrapped her arm around me before guiding me to the table.

Kolos recounted a tale from his time spent studying as his parents and I listened until the sun finally went down.

When he finally finished, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You are so beautiful when you laugh.” Kolos’s words sounded certain and guileless.

“You know, I think this is the first time I’ve heard it,” Charleigh said.

“I apologize for any rudeness—” I began, but she cut me off.

“No, no. Anyway, get along to bed you two.”

I nodded, slipping out the back door.

*

I slid my helmet off before splashing water onto my face. Just as I relished the coolness of my skin, I heard the barn door open. Ducking my head down, I wrapped the top of my face in my scarf.

“Alicina?” Kolos asked quietly. “Why do you hide? I have seen your skin, I thought you might have a burn or a scar, but it is flawless.”

“It is what I have always done,” I answered. “What do you need?”

“I can’t sleep. When I was little, I’d sneak out of my room and sleep next to Nessa. She never seemed to mind.”

“She’s very sweet.”

“I have to admit, I’m a little jealous. She seems to like you more now.” He laughed self-deprecatingly.

“Your mom said I had a magic touch.”

“Even my mother likes you better! Traitors.”

*

As weeks passed, we fell into a routine. Each week, Kolos worked in town for four days and on the farm for three.

It felt dangerous how much I cared about him. Kolos never asked about my helmet or scarf again, but he asked me about my family and what happened to them.

I didn’t want to tell him, but suddenly, I had to.

It wasn’t supposed to happen the way it did. We were repairing an old building on the edge of the property, hoping to make room for more animals.

Kolos pulled one board too many. The walls rumbled, and he dove for me, trying to shove me through the door as the building collapsed around us.

Kolos’s body took the brunt of the wood, pinning my legs beneath him as the planks dug into his body. The impact knocked my helmet off and out of reach, but I didn’t care.

“Kolos!” I shook his shoulder gently, praying his eyes would flicker open. I tried to move the boards I could reach off of his back, but they were too heavy. “Kolos, please.”

Taking in a sharp breath, he moved slightly, his eyes filled with pain.

“I think we’re trapped.” I stilled him with my hand. “Someone will come rescue us.”

“I’m just glad you’re sa—” He froze.

I tried to shut my eyes, but it was too late.

“Alicina? Is that it?” The fingers of his free hand brushed over my eyelids.

“It’s bad enough I’m left handed, but this too? I’d be burned at the stake.” I turned away.

“Your eyes are beautiful. They match your—” he drew in a rough breath, “necklace.”

“My mom gave it to me before…”

“I’m glad I got to see them.” His gaze was sure. He coughed hard as a pool of red seeped out from under him.

“No. Kolos, you can’t die.”

He smiled faintly. “I’m glad I met you Alicina.”

“No!” I shoved the earth below me hard, sliding out from under him with more strength than I naturally had. Kolos barely flinched as he hit the ground, and the wooden beams shifted around him. I yanked them off as my hands glowed, matching the purple of my eyes. “I will not let you die!”

His legs weren’t bent right, and his back was bloody. I ripped a section of my skirt off before wiping as much of the blood from him as I could. Sliding my hands across his back, I concentrated, trying to force everything back into its rightful place.

Kolos groaned in pain as I finished and set to work on his legs. I pushed them into the proper alignment. “I’m so sorry.”

He cried out as I accelerated his healing, knitting his bones back together.

“Where else does it hurt?” I glanced around his body for more injuries.

Kolos shook his head weakly before his hand found mine.

He would live.

Author's Note: Once again, I came in at exactly 1000 words. The myth I reworked this week is from the "Japanese Fairy Tales" unit. It is about a girl that is so lovely, her mother makes her cover her face with a helmet. When her parents die, she goes and works on a farm. The couple she works for's son comes home while she is washing her face (without the helmet on), and he falls in love with her instantly. They get married and live happily ever after. 

Out of all of the stories I've done, this one is probably the closest to the original myth. I knew I had to make her secret different, and purple eyes was the first thing I thought of. The very first short story I wrote as a PW major involved a world where purple eyes meant you were magic so I just adapted that concept here. 

As for names, according to different corners of the internet, Charleigh means farm, Barric means grain farm, Kolos means scholar, and Alcina is a Greek sorceress. I added an extra letter because it felt like it needed one more syllable for some reason. 

Bibliography: "The Maiden With the Wooden Helmet" by Andrew Lang.

Image Information: Personal photo taken by my mom.

Reading Notes: Japanese Fairy Tales (Lang) Part B

As I started Part B reading, I began to recognize a few stories.

I have definitely read Schippeitaro before in some other form. I found the translation of the name to be interesting too because there aren't three consonants all put together like that in Japanese. I like the idea of fighting off a beast to rescue someone, but I'd prefer it gender swapped. I would be more than happy to write a version of the story like that.

The Crab and The Monkey wasn't as much my style. I hate stories where someone's kindness is taken advantage of. I hated that the monkey was so rude to her, and that besides the monkey's death, she didn't get anything for her kindness and troubles.

I thought The Magic Kettle was an interesting story, but again, I prefer animal to human transformations rather than kettle to tanuki which was quite interesting. I found it odd how the man who hated the kettle/tanuki enough to see it would be more than happy to take it back when the buyer returned it. I was surprised he didn't just take the money and give him the kettle back.

As I read How the Wicked Tanuki was punished, I was horrified that he killed his own wife. They seemed like such great schemers together. I wanted to write them happily conning people as humans, but that broke my heart. It was even worse hearing how the son waited for his mother. At least she was avenged. I still wouldn't be opposed to writing a trickster couple though because it could be interesting.

Again as I read The Slaying of the Tanuki, I realized another version must have been in a reading I did for my storybook. In this version, I really hated how the tanuki said to the wife "..for rice pounding is very tiring work, and not at all fit for weak women." As a strong feminist, this made me want to rewrite it to where it is all the same up until the tanuki calls her weak, and then she turns around and brutally slays the tanuki. I hated how she was portrayed in this retelling.

In Uraschimataro and the Turtle, I liked how kind Uraschimataro was. The adventure the turtle brought him on was quite fun. But I could not believe he would be stupid enough to open the box. I was so disappointed in him when I read that part.

While I haven't decided yet, I think I will rewrite Schippeitaro gender swapped or the story I liked most from the A reading.


Bibliography: "Japanese Fairy Tales" by Andrew Lang.

Image Information: Personal photo of turtles from the St. Louis Zoo.

Reading Notes: Japanese Fairy Tales (Lang) Part A

This week I picked Japanese Fairy Tales by Andrew Lang.

I was underwhelmed by the first story of the two frogs. I didn't really understand the point of it. I wanted one of the two to learn something, but they both ended up just staying in their own cities. If I tried to adapt this into my own short story, it would end up being about two travelers, but I am not sure where I would go from there.

I liked the full circle style of the Stonecutter story, but I didn't really believe he had truly learned anything at the end so it didn't inspire me.

I really liked the tale of The Maiden With the Wooden Helmet! She was a hard worker, and it would be very easy to do something fun with this. I think I'd like to do a story where her mother trained her to fight instead of training her in home ec. The helmet would be used to shield her eyes, which would be lovely and entrancing because she had some sort of magic ability. Whoever her love interest would be would theoretically see her using the magic, and then it would go well or poorly from there.

As for The Envious Neighbor, I had read this story earlier in the semester while trying to pick out ideas for my Storybook project. While it is a very interesting tale, it makes me sad that the dog dies. However, while watching a Japanese game show special that I love, they parodied the story, and it made me really happy to understand the context.

For the Sparrow story, we actually read it in my Japanese class in Japanese. It was really difficult, and I didn't understand all of it, so it was interesting to see this version of it. While reading the original, I asked my groupmate who was good at Japanese not to tell me what tragedy the old lady brought on the sparrow, so I didn't really like finding out.

I really liked the cat story, but at the end, I wondered what happened to the cats' original owners. I liked Gon defending the princess so if I rewrote this, I would make Gon a stray who wandered in, saves the princess, and then he magically turns into a human, and they fall in love. Or something similar.

I think out of all of my ideas, I like the Maiden With the Wooden Helmet one the most at this point.


Bibliography: "Japanese Fairy Tales" by Andrew Lang.

Image Information: Personal photo taken by my mom.

Week Five Storytelling: The Malady Loneliness

Ece supposed there were benefits to being forcibly kept in the castle.

She just couldn’t think of any.

Ever since she was kidnapped at five on an outing, the Sultan had kept her trapped within the palace grounds.

By the time she was ten, she had learned every guard’s names, histories, and family structure.

By the time she was fifteen, she had read every book in her father’s library.

Even when entertainers visited, Ece couldn’t help but want to leave with them.

Five more years passed with nothing filling the emptiness in Ece’s heart.

After a disappointing twenty-seventh retelling of the time Mustafa rescued a goat from a well, Ece retired to her room, glancing up at the ceiling.

“Is this all there is?”

“Not quite.”

Ece startled, searching for the source of the voice. In the entryway stood a man. His eyes were a deep brown like hers, but his glowed.

“Who…what are you?” Ece asked, more curiosity filling her voice than fear.

“Call me Rafe.” He glanced around the room. “I’ve been sent to torture you with head pains, I’m afraid, until my summoner rushes in with a cure.”

Ece laughed. “How unfortunate for me. Well, it will be something to do.” She leaned back against the archway again.

“Are you that deprived of entertainment?” Rafe padded over quietly, layers of soft silks billowing behind him.

“We are a small country. I’ve heard every story and seen every traveling act at least thrice.”

“You have never heard stories like mine,” Rafe challenged, the deep golden flecks in his eyes filled with mischief.

“Really?” Ece sat up straighter. “I implore you then. Tell me a good one, Rafe.”

He smiled at the straightforward way she said his name.

“I will tell you the tale of an enchanted oasis, and how I managed to charm it at last.”

Ece looked delighted.

“But first you must do something for me.”

“Anything.” Ece’s blind faith surprised Rafe.

“Close your eyes.”

She shut her eyes obediently.

Rafe gently placed his long fingers over them, barely touching her skin.

“It was three years ago, during a sandstorm so bad, that even my fellow travelers had advised we turn around.”

And suddenly, Ece could feel it, the buffeting winds, the sharp sting of sand whipping against her. She could smell the mustiness of the desert kicking up around her.

As Rafe’s low voice whispered in her ear, she lived it.

And suddenly, leaving the palace didn’t seem so urgent.

*

Rafe’s stories were magic. In a matter of moments, Ece could be thousands of miles away in a land she had only read about.

Ece stopped leaving her room. Servants came to bring her food and would stare at their mistress as she sat with her eyes closed, shivering in an unseen blizzard or laughing at an unheard joke.

Ece would only laugh harder as Rafe would pause in his story to merrily waltz around Ece’s unaware visitors.

This went on for forty nights before the Sultan finally decided to visit his daughter.

“What plagues you, Ece? You have not left your room in weeks.” His thick brows drew together.

“Nothing, Father. I am happier than I have ever been.” Ece smiled, ignoring the Sultan’s confusion.

“I was sent here to torture you, remember?” Rafe whispered in her ear mischievously, and Ece laughed.

“Daughter, what is funny?”

“I’m not sure you could ever hurt me, Rafe,” Ece replied to the unseen trickster. “You care too much.”

“Who is Rafe?” the Sultan demanded, glancing about her room.

“What if it is all a trick?” Rafe’s voice was icier than Ece had ever heard it.

“Then it is the loveliest trick,” she murmured dreamily. “Go away, Father. Rafe, tell me about the ocean again.”

Rafe laughed jovially, running his fingers over an unkempt portion of Ece’s hair.

The king watched in horror as his daughter laughed and cried, sniffing at nothing in the air. He hurried from her room at once, determined to find someone to heal her.

*

“You have done well for me, my servant!”

Ece was too caught up in Rafe’s current tale to care what this sorry fool wanted, until the vision abruptly faded from her mind.

“Rafe,” she whined.

He stood in front of her, blocking Ece from the man’s view.

“I am no man’s servant. You will leave at once and never return.” Rafe’s eyes glowed with the weight of his command.

“We had a deal,” his summoner insisted

“You had a request,” Rafe clarified, looking bored with the whole situation.

“Give me the girl or –”

Rafe waved his hand, and the man simply vanished. Rafe’s eyes glowed sadly as he glanced at Ece.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied, grinning playfully.

And then Rafe disappeared too.

*

Ece was inconsolable. She screamed at her father, demanding her release from house arrest. She longed to search the cities Rafe had shown her until she found him.

Ece refused to eat, hoping her father would eventually give in to her demands.

“Ece…” The Sultan cautiously approached his daughter.

“Leave me.”

“I have brought someone to heal you.”

Ece whirled around to glare at her father. “For the thousandth time, I’m not–” her words caught in her throat.

“My princess,” Rafe bowed cordially, “I am Rafael Altan the Third, and I am here to make you well again. Your majesty, I know what your daughter needs.”

“What? I shall give you all the treasures in the world in exchange.”

“It’s a rare ingredient in my homeland, but it must be consumed fresh. The only way she’ll live is if she returns with me.”

Pain filled the Sultan’s face.

“I will allow no harm to come to her. She will travel in disguise amidst my guards. But I am afraid we must leave at once.” Rafe glanced at Ece, his eyes glowing mischievously for only a second.

“Go.”

With that one word, Ece was free.

Author's Note: This story (and the time it took to write it) ran away from me, just like last week's. In the original tale, a man's nasty wife falls in a well. In order to get her out, he lowers a rope down, but he pulls out an imp by mistake. The imp promises that in exchange for saving him from the woman in the well, he will possess the Sultan's daughter and jump out of her only when the man demands it. This goes according to plan, and the man weds the Sultan's daughter in exchange for saving her life.
In my story, I wanted to play on the imp meeting the Sultan's daughter. Instead of the imp torturing the princess, I wanted them to be friends so I had him rescue her from her boredom in a way. Rafe's summoner wanted to win Ece's hand by curing her of a malady he had given her. He never had any power over Rafe who simply liked the idea of bothering the princess.
As always, I tried to pick fitting names. According to random corners of the Internet, Ece is a Turkish name for Queen, and "Rafe" sounds like a trickster's name.

Bibliography: "The Imp of the Well" from "Turkish Fairy Tales" by Ignacz Kunos.

Image Information: "Oasis" by Gero73.

Reading Notes: Turkish Fairy Tales Part B

When I first started Patience-Stone and Patience-Knife, I was really intrigued by the prophecy. However, I'm not quite certain how it actually played out in the story. Was the prince actually dead? I was confused, but really glad it ended happily because I was worried for awhile. While reading this, the maiden's prophecy reminded me somewhat of Warm Bodies. I'd like to do a story where I feel the prophecy really comes true (probably without the zombies, though).

While I found the story of the Imp of the Well was interesting, but I thought of it from a different perspective. When the imp went to bother the Sultan's daughter, I thought it would be interesting if he was like an actual presence. I would have had the Sultan's daughter then chat with her new ghostly friend. She could even say she was sick so that she could stay in her room and listen to stories he would tell. I might consider doing this retelling because it interests me and would be very different from the first.

I didn't love the Soothsayer story. Poor goose.

The wizard story was interesting, but I missed the "why" for all of the conflict. It would be fun to keep the magic aspect, but instead detail the relationship between a rude, malicious teacher and indentured pupil. It could be fun, but I'm not sure I could do it justice in 1,000 words.

The Liver story felt like it was building to something, but then it ended as if she hadn't just gone on this time-consuming quest.

I didn't like the bald-headed youth story because he didn't do anything of worth besides meddle and get noticed for moping. I prefer better characters than that.

The dreaming story betrays one of my writing professor's cardinal rules of never ending a story with "and then I woke up."

Out of all of these ideas, I think the Imp based tale suits me the best.


Bibliography: "Turkish Fairy Tales" by Ignacz Kunos.

Image Information: "Wishing Well" by Kaz.

Reading Notes: Turkish Fairy Tales Part A

After a false start with a different choice, I really grew to like this collection.

The Fear story was very interesting. For a moment, I thought it would be a nifty idea to make fear an actual monster to seek out, but I don't know how effective that would be in under 1,000 words. However by the time the boy finally experienced fear, and it was a simple jump-scare, I was disappointed in this story and over the idea.

The Wizard-Dervish tale was extremely entertaining, however. I loved how the woman could shapeshift and use magic. I like that she helps the kidnapped prince and that they ended up together in the end. These are my favorite kind of tales, the short adventures where the couple ends up together. I'd love to rewrite this one from the girl's point-of-view and make it more focused on the rescue and magic aspect. If I did this though, I'm not too sure how different it would be. I could do it in a more modern setting where search parties show up in the forest at the end, and the girl turns back into a dove. She could make him swear to come back to the river if he loved her and that could be interesting.

I loved the Fish-Peri and Crow-Peri stories too! All of the stories in this unit have really been up my alley. It will be hard deciding which to do because I love animal to human stories, but that has already been done in these cases. I'm not sure how I could incorporate that in a different way, but it is one of my favorite concepts.

I will have to think about story ideas for this week, but I loved all of the tales so that shall make deciding and writing fun.

Bibliography: "Turkish Fairy Tales" by Ignacz Kunos.

Image Information: Personal photo taken by my mom at Pere Marquette State Park.

Week Four Storytelling: The Silent Song

She’s brought into the room gently, but against her will nonetheless. When King Taran had first heard that there was a beautiful traveling songstress, he had sent many letters of invitation, all of which went unanswered. Finally, his soldiers brought the famed Nightingale to the castle after she was attacked by thieves.

“I’ve heard you are the finest songstress in all of the lands.” King Taran looked down from his throne kindly, but the woman didn’t move. “Nightingale, sing for me.”

“My voice is hoarse from screaming, your majesty.” Her brown eyes looked sharply onto his. “Give me a night’s rest. I shall perform for you tomorrow.”

She swept into a fanciful bow before following her escorts out of the hall.

In the place of her colorful sweeping skirts, there were small splashes of blood on the floor.

The king’s eyebrows furrowed, and he sent the castle’s physician to look after her injuries.

*

A sharp rap on his door woke the king far too early in the morning.

“Yes?” he murmured groggily before his aide came in.

“Your Highness, Lady Nightingale tried to escape.”

He snorted, leaning up on his elbows. “And? How did she do?”

“The guard at the end of the hall caught her before she could make it very far,” the aide explained slowly, surprised at the mirth on the king’s face.

“She is far more interesting than I thought.” The king chuckled again before catching a few more minutes of sleep.

*

Lady Nightingale was summoned again to the king’s throne room after she had refused dinner.

“I wish to go home, your majesty.” Her words sounded like they should be a plea, but her tone was hardened.

“And where is that? Madam, you are not well. The physician was quite clear that you need to rest.”

Her brown eyes flashed angrily, but she didn’t put up any more of a fight.

“Will you sing for me tonight?” he asked quietly, betraying his own desire to hear her voice.

“If only you will be the one hearing my song.” She glanced around at the various guards stationed around the room.

“I shall grant your request.”

They moved to a special spot in the garden where her voice wouldn’t carry, but the guards could still watch the king.

“I shall begin now.” She positioned herself carefully behind a large oak as she began her song.

As the beautiful lilting notes rose from her mouth, the king’s heart seemed to grow to fit her into it. He listened to her song quietly as he rubbed the exhaustion out of his tired eyes.

But as she continued to sing, her gentle voice lulled him to sleep.

The next thing he knew, he awoke to guards scrambling past him.

“Catch her!” the captain cried.

The king laughed joyfully as he walked back into the castle.

*

This cycle continued for some time. The songstress kept inventing new, clever ways to evade guards and attempt to escape the castle.

On the fourth night, the king asked for her real name, and she freely gave it.

On the ninth night, the king himself caught Kamara as she fell trying to scale down the castle wall.

On the fifteenth night, the physician declared her free to travel, but King Taran neglected to mention it in front of Kamara. I simply cannot give up her songs and risk she is killed by bandits. That is why I keep her around, the king lied to himself.

On the twenty-first night, her attempt to flee resulted in a huge gash down her arm. When the king heard the news, he immediately ran to the physician’s chambers.

“Kamara!” He rushed to her side, pushing a lock of black hair out of the way so that he could see her eyes. “Are you alright?”

She looked more startled at his affection than worried about the wound.

“She shall heal fine, my king, if she actually chooses to stay put.” The physician finished wrapping her arm before he bowed, disappearing into one of the back rooms.

“Why do you run, Kamara? I have given you everything. Food, shelter, anything you could ask for. I have seen you amongst the people of the castle. Everyone who meets you loves you.” He took her hand gently, and she didn’t resist. “What do you desire outside of these walls?”

Her dark eyes were quiet and sad. “There once was a king who took possession of me, demanding I sing for him every day. Whenever I would refuse, he would lock me in the tower with no food or drink until I begged to be allowed to sing again.”

“Kamara…” the king whispered, but she held up a hand to silence him.

“I got away one day, and I’ve been traveling ever since. I swore to myself that I would never become another’s possession as long as I lived.”

King Taran looked away. “Then go in a fortnight. I will not stop you once your arm has healed.” He stood sadly before glancing back at her surprise. “But know there shall always be a place for you by my side, if you want it.”

He committed her image to memory as best as he could, before turning away and leaving the room, his heavy footsteps a mirror of his heart.

*

On the thirty-fifth night, as Kamara’s lithe frame snuck across the castle grounds, King Taran watched from his balcony. She froze just as a guard came around the corner before hanging her head and presenting her wrists.

But the guard followed his orders and simply dropped to one knee in front of her, head lowered.

Even from his lofty position, the king could see her shock. She moved unsteadily away, but each guard she passed only dropped into a formal bow instead of capturing her.

As she made it through the gates at last, the king could almost swore he heard her shout:

“I will return!”

And he hoped she would.

Author's Note: To be honest, I'm not entirely certain how I got here from the tale of Scheherazade. In the original story, the Sultan has been betrayed by his queen, so he seeks a new one each night but has her beheaded by morning. Scheherazade volunteers to be his wife and tells him such an enchanting tale that her life is spared so that he may hear the end.

I knew I wanted to make her into a singer instead of a storyteller because they are sort of similar. Then I wanted a similar night by night it changes slightly kind of feeling. But I'm not 100% sure how this became the fine result. Regardless, I once again picked names that seemed to represent the characters. According to some possibly sketchy online sources, Kamara means "little bird" and "free" is a possibly meaning of Taran. I wanted Kamara to find her freedom in being with the king. But that's my ending to this, and it doesn't have to be yours.

Bibliography: "Arabian Nights" by Andrew Lang.

Image Information: "Sky Flying Animals" by Unsplash. I chose this picture because I wanted the classic imagery of birds to represent Kamara, and these two together looked beautiful.

Reading Notes: Arabian Nights Part B

I was kind of disappointed with this half of the reading. I really wanted to know what happened to Scheherazade, but the story never went into it.

I found the original version much creepier than the beloved fairy tale. Aladdin waiting behind the doors to catch a glimpse of the princess was almost too much for me. I have never really been fascinated with his story, so I was more sad there wasn't an update on Scheherazade.

The one thing I was surprised at was how rude Aladdin was to the genie. I could not believe that he just kept demanding things without ever saying thank you or releasing the genie in the end, like in the Disney version.

I would consider telling a version of this tale where Aladdin is rude and keeps demanding things, so the genie tricks Aladdin into freeing him. The genie would then kill or imprison Aladdin in his place. While it is a fun idea, I usually don't write stories that are this dark, so I'm not sure I want to spend my words on this.

One of the other things I liked the concept of was the garden that Aladdin's mother pulled all of the fruit gems from. I thought that was really interesting and I would have loved to see it described in more detail. What kind of fruit were they? Did they magically become gems?

I think, however, that I am going to focus on Scheherazade this week because I find her much more redeemable as a character.

Bibliography: "Arabian Nights" by Andrew Lang.

Image Information: "Common Culinary Fruits" by Bill Ebbesen. No changes were made.

Reading Notes: Arabian Nights Part A

Ever since I first heard the tale of Scheherazade, I've been fascinated by it. Despite having chosen storytelling as my career, I don't know if I could tell such an interesting story that it would keep me alive, especially not for 1,000 nights. I'd love to do something with her tale, but I'm not sure what yet. It'd be interesting to switch it up to where the king hears of Scheherazade's amazing storytelling or singing abilities so he demands her presence in the castle instead of Scheherazade nobly offering herself up to stop the kingdom's suffering.

Each tale she spins is so interesting and creative. I hated the wife who became a deer for her rude selfishness and loved the fairy wife who saved the man. When I heard the concept, I never would have figured that all of the stories would roll into each other, rather than each be separate entities.

I have always found Biblical stories about leprosy interesting so the tale of the Greek king was very interesting to me, however, as I read, I started to get lost in all of the layers. I was really intrigued when I started reading the parrot story but horrified when the husband killed the bird. I was so excited to get out of one of the stories within a stories only to realize we were jumping right back into another. The vizir literally could have just said "he strangled him."

As much as I love the storytelling, I am very saddened by all of these deaths. I wish the characters in these stories would stop killing innocent people.

Out of the Part A reading, my favorite of the stories was the King of Black Isles. I like the concept of this transformed city and castle.

It reminds me a small bit of Beauty and the Beast. I'd love to do a story with a prince/king that is stuck under a spell and a warrior who comes to save him.

Bibliography: "Arabian Nights" by Andrew Lang.

Image Information: "The Old Ruined Castle" by Shadowgate. No changes made.

Week Three Storytelling: The Price of Folly

The ropes chafed my wrists as I tried not to panic.

I took a deep breath in as my arms tingled beneath the long sleeves of my dress. My black hair fell around me in waves as two men dragged me down the ornate hall.

“What have you done with my brother?” I demanded, trying to look behind me for Sayf.

“You are the bride of the king now! He will be given all the riches he could desire.” The man on my right laughed, baring his yellow teeth.

“I do not wish to be the bride of any man!” I jerked, attempting to free myself without pushing the sleeves of my dress up.

The taller man scoffed. “Foolish woman, you know not what you want.”

White-hot anger rushed through me. Taking a steadying breath, I focused on the soft pulsing of my heart, tuning out the world around me.

Suddenly, I was shoved through a doorway, breaking me out of my reverie. The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind me, and I flinched.

The room I was taken to was beautiful. The back wall was composed of seven archways that led out onto an open air balcony. I wonder how high off the ground we are. 

Under the middle arch was the king. He was dressed in fine purple silk robes as he sprawled out lazily in his ornate chair.

A long red carpet led from under my feet up to him.

“They tell me you are called Amira,” he spoke, his voice full of ash and lecher. I shuddered, pressing my back against the door. “Do not be afraid, I shall treat you well.”

“I am humbled by your offer,” the words sounded false even to me, “but I’m afraid I must decline.”

His eyes narrowed. “You can’t refuse a royal decree. I have bought you from your brother. You will become my forty-third concubine.” The king rose from his chair.

Even from here I could see the indignation painted across his face.

I need to get free. I twisted my hands in the bindings, trying to slip a hand out.

“Submit to me, Amira.”

“Never.” I kept my eyes trained on him as he stalked closer.

“You will do as I command!” Rage coursed through him as I finally managed to free my left arm.

“No! You will stop there if you value your head.”  My words were absolute and chilling as I slid my thumb under my sleeve, tracing the hidden patterns that danced across my skin.

For a moment, he froze in shock before regaining his composure. “You stupid bi—”

“Zeev!” I called, letting my emotions flow through me.

The room suddenly grew darker as the air turned to ice.

“Wh-what?” the king sputtered. “What are you?”

“You shall pay for your sins, my king,” I mocked. I glanced just over his right shoulder.

“You witch!” His eyes burned angrily as he stepped forward.

“You’re right for a change.” I pushed my sleeves up, displaying the swirls of colorful ink that covered them. “I thought I told you not to move any closer.”

“I—” he began, but a snarl behind him cut him off. His eyes widened, terrified.

“Did you know that witches have familiars?” I asked as I traced a specific sigil on the inside of my left wrist. “Zeev is sworn to protect me against any harm that should befall me.”

The king turned slowly only to see the gray wolf lurking behind him. “N-no…”

I slid my fingers over a spot of black ink on my right shoulder. “You will pay for the heinous crimes you have committed against women and your own people.”

“No!” he screamed as Zeev leaped forward, knocking him to the ground. Her teeth clenched around his throat, but I paused.

“Make it look like an accident,” I commanded as I muttered a few words in prayer.

Zeev released the king, but not before one of her teeth broke skin, leaving a tiny sliver of blood on his neck.

“You will be dead before the sun sets,” I promised as I stepped over his shocked frame on the way to the terrace. I ran my fingers through Zeev’s hair, scratching fondly behind her ear. “If you release all of your concubines, it won’t be agonizing.”

“It shall be done! Anythi—”

“No amount of begging will save you. Your judgment day has come.” I didn’t bother looking back before I leaped out of the window.

Author's Note: I had a really fun time coming up with and writing this idea. In the original story, Abraham tries to smuggle his wife, Sarah, into the country, but the king finds her and is enraptured by her beauty. They lie about being siblings but pray fervently to be saved. The result of their prayers is this spirit-like thing that tortments the king when he tries to get close to Sarah. He lets her go free, and she rejoins her husband.

In my story, I decided to actually make them siblings and to switch their names some. I swapped their starting letters and then tried to pick Arabic names that suited them. I have been reading a lot of stories with magical tattoos lately, so that is how I made Amira control Zeev. I changed Zeev into an actual wolf and made the king pay for his sins.

Bibliography: "The Higgledy-Piggledy Palace" by Gertrude Landa.

Image Information: "Arabian Wolf in Jordan" by Ahmad Qarmish. 

Reading Notes: Jewish Fairy Tales Part B

The first story in this section really intrigued me. It reminded me somewhat of a fantasy short story I read recently where a prince promised to live in a tower in exchange for the prosperity of his people. He was to be stuck there until his debt had been fully repaid. He ended up living through many centuries watching people he loved and their descendants through a magical mirror. I thought it was a very interesting concept, as is Onias's story.

In King for Three Days, I liked how steadfast Rashi was. He was so certain of his prophecy and unflinching in his faith. I really liked that aspect, but the genocide was heartbreaking.

I loved Sarah's portion of Higgledy-Piggledy Palace. While Abraham smuggling her in a box was kind of weird, I loved the part where the "cudgeling" appeared behind the king and attacked him for her. I would love to write the story of a woman who actually is a witch or simply has a protector. It reminded me of a video game where the main girl has an entity that she can see and command that follows her, helps her, and protects her. I'd love to do a spin on this tale where Abraham really is Sarah's brother, and she can command/control a spirit or monster to defend herself from a pervert.

The Bogey-Man one was very interesting. It could easily be converted into some kind of steampunk fantasy story, but I think with Sarah's mythical guardian monster.

I also liked the frog story, but I would have rather there been a different animal. If I was doing a retelling of it, I know I would change at least that.

Image Information: "Northern Leopard Frog" by Brian Gratwicke. 

Bibliography: "Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends" by Gertrude Landa.