Week Ten Storytelling: Evergreen Everlong

The forest had always been full of wonder for me. The way the sunlight filtered in through the trees or the scent of the woods after a summer rain. Everything about it seemed magical.

Regardless of the weather, every day I walked its paths and uncharted ground alike, unwilling to spend my time elsewhere.

Everything about this place feels so wrong.

“Neena!” my mother snapped, whispering angrily under her breath. “Get your head out of the clouds!”

I smiled politely at the pair of people at the table across from me. We were at some fancy new Italian restaurant downtown, and I could feel the weight of my mother’s gaze. The air conditioning is nearly as cold as that look.

“So, Hunter, what do you like to do?” I tried, ignoring the urge to bolt and never come back. The man in front of me’s mother made eye contact with my own like my question meant something.

I wish I could just fake being ill again. It had worked three blessed times before my mother figured it out.

“Hunting,” he replied, nodding his head.

“Really,” I managed breathlessly. I care too much about the creatures in the forest to even fathom it. Could Mother have picked a worse ‘suitor’?

I knew he was talking, but it just sounded like meaningless babble.

“Deer are my favorite,” he finished as I caught the tail end of whatever he was talking about.

“Me too!” Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I can do this.

“Really? Do you use guns or arrows?” His eyes lit up in interest.

I stood woozily. That is not what I meant at all.

“They’re my favorite animal.” I shook my head. “Excuse me, I need to go to the restroom.” Squeezing past my mom, I made it safely into the bathroom. How long before the check arrives?

*

“He is a perfectly nice boy. I don’t see what the problem is!” my mother insisted on the drive home.

“Even after I told him I love deer, he spent twenty minutes talking about the best ways to skin one!”

“Well at least you’d never grow hungry with a man like that. I don’t know how you think you’re going to survive with an Environmental Studies degree.”

I banged my head lightly into the glass window. I don’t need anything but the forest.

As soon as she pulled up in front of our house, I leaped out and made a break for the woods.

“You better be back inside before dark!” she called after me.

Just how old does she think I am?

I sighed, finally relaxing in the quiet sounds of the forest. If I could just live here, I would.

I followed my favorite path, relishing in the familiar sights. There is no place like this. Nothing else in this world brings me this joy.

I took a right near one of the larger moss beds and ascended the hill. When I reached the top, the view of the sunset disappearing beneath the trees assuaged my irritation and bitter resignation left over from the day. “As long as this is here, I need nothing else.”

I stood and waited until all of the color had drained from the sky.

“It’s so peaceful.” Every time my mother forced me to meet another guy or berated my love for nature was washed away by the tranquility of the night.

Just before I was about to go, I saw a flash of light down the hill.

What was that? Carefully making my way through the dark, I descended down to where I thought I’d seen the light.

“Nobody’s here.” I glanced around, but there wasn’t even a sign that someone had recently passed through. “What did I see then?”

Despite having excellent night vision, the forest seemed especially dark here. “Was this evergreen always here?”

It was massive, much taller than the other trees surrounding it. Behind it stood a whole grove of beautiful pines.

Transfixed, I walked towards the secret I had stumbled upon. Moving reverently around the largest tree, I came into an open space. It was full of dancing lights, far more than I’d seen from the top of the hill.

There’s no way this is possible. Colors swirled around me as I basked in the warmth. Yet it feels so right.

“Neena,” a quiet voice behind me whispered, and I startled.

“How do you know my name?” A tall thin man stood before me, swathed in rich shades of green.

His laugh was music and the wind whistling through the trees. “Because you belong here.” He gestured to the quiet area, and the words rang true in my heart.

“Who are you?”

“I am Evergreen. This grove is sacred. It is only visible to those it chooses.” He stared into my eyes. “You are kind and pure-hearted. You know only love for these woods.”

“They are my greatest treasure. They’ve always been my home.”

His smile was sunlight through the trees, it was beauty incarnate.

“Stay. Spend your days with us.” He stretched his hand out to me.

And I took it.

Author's Note: To be honest, I forgot it was Wednesday today. But I still think this came together better than last week's Native American tale. The story I chose this time was of Neen-i-zu, an effervescent girl whose mother tries to set her up with a hunter. She refuses, but the wedding is decided upon anyway. When she goes for a walk, she disappears, and later the hunter says he saw her in the Sacred Grove with a fairy named Evergreen. 

I wanted to take this story and make it a bit more modern and actually detail Evergreen and Neen-i-zu's meeting. I gave Neen-i-zu a more plain name but kept the name Evergreen. I decided to actually name the hunter character Hunter to make him feel even more one-note. 

While this story didn't turn out like I imagined, I'm not mad at it.

Bibliography: "The Fairy Bride" published by Henry Schoolcraft

Image Information: "Forest Evergreen" by Unsplash. 

Reading Notes: American Indian Fairy Tales Part B

My favorite story this time was The Fairy Bride!

For starters, I loved Neen-i-zu's name and her character description. I like romantics and dreamers because I relate to them, so she was a delight to read about.

The concept of Happy land was also quite intriguing. I don't think a land of eternal summer would be perfect no matter how much you like the sun. Besides the weather, people wouldn't appreciate the happiness enough if they didn't have sorrow.

It could be interesting and fun, however, to take the elements of this and write a dystopian story, especially if only a handful find it not a utopia because they know better.

I was really glad that Neen-i-zu was against marrying the hunter because I really love deer, and I was especially proud of her for sticking up to her mother. But I hated that her mother tried to force her into it anyway. Her soon-to-be husband sounded like an exceptional bore.

I loved that Neen-i-zu was welcomed as a fairy and ended up with a man who suited her.

If I wrote a story retelling this or used elements of it, I would definitely still have Neen-i-zu and the fairy part. It was my favorite. But instead I think I would try telling it in modern day because people aren't described as ethereal as much anymore. On top of that, I think I would have given Neen-i-zu a choice where she wanders into the forest before her betrothal or another event, and Evergreen is there and offers her an out. I would have loved to actually see that part.

I'm not sure yet whether I'll rewrite Oweenee's story or Neen-i-zu's, but I'm feeling much more confident than last week.


Bibliography: "American Indian Fairy Tales" published by Henry Schoolcraft

Image Information: Personal photo taken by my mother.

Reading Notes: American Indian Fairy Tales Part A

As soon as I started reading The Child of Evening Star, it seemed right up my alley. The description of the sisters and their suitors was all so enchanting, especially the part about their raven hair.

Before I'd even made it to the part about Oweenee, I'd had the idea of having one sister unmarried. It's such a fun, simple concept to work with.

Being me of course, I want to turn the whole family into a warrior family and have the daughters be fighters instead of just beauties, but I'm not sure whether or not I'll go with that.

Another easy thing to do would be to have Oweenee rejecting all of the men because she wasn't attracted to them. But then one day a woman comes along to woo her instead, and she's smitten.

Even just pairing Oweenee up with Osseo deserved more than the short lines it received. I'd be more than happy to just expound on them meeting and falling in love.

I loved the concept of him being the prince of the Evening Star, and I loved how they interacted with each other.

This was definitely my favorite section of the collection and will probably be what I write on.


Bibliography: "American Indian Fairy Tales" published by Henry Schoolcraft

Image Information: "Rise and Shine" by Sodanie Chea. No changes.

Week Nine Storytelling: Wicked Deeds

They came at night. Even the moon had hidden behind the clouds.

There were four of them, just in case she put up a fight.

She did not.

She knew they were coming for her.

They bound her arms with coarse rope and filled her mouth with a foul cloth. They covered her eyes before she could take one last look at the place of her birth.

Without any precaution, they tied her onto the back of a horse. Her body ached as the animal beneath her galloped across the plains.

They knew what she had done, and they would make certain she would pay.

*

The sun had risen by the time the horse finally stopped.

Blood soaked the skin where the ropes had cut into her.

They untied her, letting her fall to the earth.

Some have said the first day is the worst.

They cut her hair short with blunt knives before burning a single line into the back of her neck.

She tried not to scream, but it didn’t matter.

After they’d branded her, she started her rotation. They learned that they grew less fond of the ones they tortured if there was a different body in front of them every day.

Hers was young. Far too young. But there was no light left in his brown eyes. His steps were silent and swift.

He was young, but he was good. He knew what her mark meant, and he treated her like it.

The first time it was only seven lashes. He doubted she could handle more, and he was right. The seeping wounds left her gasping on the ground.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he whispered in her ear, carefully keeping as much distance as he could.

“Yes,” she replied, managing to prop herself up on her hands and knees.

“Beg for forgiveness,” he demanded, towering over her hunched frame.

“I do not deserve it.” She bowed her head and waited until he picked up his weapon again.

*

He wasn’t the heaviest or lightest punisher. They moved soundlessly around her unless they wanted to be heard. It was never good when they did.

She rarely saw anyone besides her punishers. She knew of two women who probably looked similar even before the matching burns marred their faces. Each one had a single line on their left wrists.

She knew what the mark on the back of her neck meant but not what these women had done to earn theirs.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. Her tears had dropped quietly into lakes filled with moonlight, and she’d coughed dust out into the blazing sun.

In the moments she fell asleep, night terrors robbed her of any rest.

Her days and nights passed like this.

One day she saw only one of the matching women.

And one night she realized she didn’t see them at all anymore.

“Is that what happens?” she asked one day, her voice croaking from disuse. “They are dead now.”

His brown eyes flickered with the annoyance of the girl speaking out of turn. “They were penitent. Their punishments were complete.”

“When will mine be?” Her head ached more than the rest of her body, which had settled into a steady thrum of pain.

“Your crime was greater. Do you know what you did?”

“I killed my best friend.” Her voice did not waver.

“And you will suffer for it.” 

Author's Note: This is not at all how I thought this story would turn out. I expected something much more normal. The idea came from just a simple line in The Wolf Man where his two wives who tried to murder him are turned over to "the punishing society" and never heard from again. I wanted to imagine what the punishing society would look like. "She" ends up seeing the two wives there because I wanted to reference back to the original myth.

Bibliography: "The Wolf Man" by George Bird Grinnel                                                                        

Image Information: Personal photo of the moon taken by my sister

Reading Notes: Blackfoot Stories Part B

While I didn't necessarily love the "women are weaker" notion, the Smart Woman Chief story was really fun. I liked that she wouldn't accept Old Man because he only wanted her when she was beautiful. I was also impressed by her ability to suddenly turn Old Man into a pine tree at the end.

In The Bobcat and the Birch Tree, I really hated that Old Man tricked the prairie dogs that had been kind to them.

Prairie dogs are one of my favorite animals and so it was especially heartbreaking for me to read about them burning to death.

I'm really getting tired of Old Man going around shamelessly killing animals. I feel so bad for the murdered ducks and prairie dogs and all of the other creatures he has gotten to.

In the first section of Kut-O-Yis, no matter how irritated I was that the old man had given his three daughters away to the same man in marriage, I still felt bad for him. The son-in-law treated him so horribly. However I was very excited to see where the blood child aspect went, although it was creepy to think the son-in-law would automatically consider the baby wife material if it was a girl.

I liked Kut-O-Yis in the second one, and I was very glad that the son-in-law died so that the old man would be fed properly and cherished again.



In the end I decided to go with the punishing society idea from the first half of the reading because it sounds so intriguing and reminds me of something Jenna would write. But knowing me, it will turn out completely different.


Bibliography: "Blackfoot Stories" by George Bird Grinnel

Image Information: "Prairie Dog" by Huskyherz

Reading Notes: Blackfoot Stories Part A

This collection was the first one I clicked on to try out. I took one look at its description and decided that I definitely wanted to read it for this week.

I thought the first story was interesting, but I was a bit confused as to what a gall or a dewclaw is. I tried to look it up, but I just found links and different versions of this story.

As for the second story, I hated that the wives wanted to kill their husband instead of trying to come up with a more civil solution. I love wolves, foxes, and coyotes though, so I was super excited when they showed up. But the most intriguing part of all was the "punishing society." I would love to write a story that imagined just what exactly the punishing society was. It is a super intriguing idea to me.

In the third story, I really liked that the wife and child weren't punished for the Raven Man's sins. Too often in myths innocent parties are punished because of a relative or friend so I loved that this didn't happen here.

I loved that the fourth story was about a happy couple and the man's undying love, up until the end. I was so impressed by his ability to remember the directions and their order because I kept getting confused. This myth really reminded me of Eurydice and Orpheus. It is so cool to see similar myths across different cultures and continents.

While short, I liked that the fifth story had a woman in a more important role.

Thunder was pretty rude in the sixth story.

I couldn't believe the old woman ate Long Feather! I thought this story was really clever though. The solution made sense, and the possible hint of another hungry cannibal old lady was a good way to end it.

I didn't love the Rolling Rock story because I don't usually like trickster characters.

At least in the ninth story, Old Man didn't break a promise with a rock that did him a favor.

In the very last story of this section, I liked that the sun was able to successfully get revenge.


Bibliography: "Blackfoot Stories" by George Bird Grinnel.

Image Information: Personal photo of the sun, clouds, and water in a state park.

Week Eight: Growth Mindset

I didn't think I'd succeeded in changing in any way.

But when I read the list, I realized I'd come farther than I thought, which is something worth celebrating.

The most challenging class for me this semester is Japanese. I took it last semester, but it was fun and easy to take the first introduction class. This second one had been trying to destroy me.

Languages are usually easy for me, so I don't always work as hard as I should. When I started getting lower grades on the tests than I got last semester, it was so easy to initially brush it off or blame all of it on the professor. And sure, she's grading harder, but I gave up on my love for the language and culture.

I stopped watching all of my favorite YouTubers in Japan, and I stopped reading manga. I stopped wanting to learn because I didn't want a B, and I didn't want to fail myself.

But at one point, I realized that my definition of failure was getting a B, and I was going to get a B in Japanese no matter how much effort I poured in. So I came to terms with it instead.

After that day, I started focusing on it seriously again. I started a new Japanese show and watched tons of it, picking up a few words and laughing too. I allowed myself to love the language again and with it, my old motivation to learn Japanese came back.

My last test score was a ninety-three, and it felt amazing. As afraid as I am that I'll focus on my grade too much again, I gained something immaterial from all of this. And I'm so excited to learn more.


Image Information: "Quote by Ella Fitzgerald" by Linnaea Mallette.

Week Seven Storytelling: Suijin's Blessing

“Your tree is the only dry one in the forest.” Hatano glared up at me from below. “This rainy season will be the death of me.”

“At least you live in a cave,” I reminded him.

“A damp cave.” He sighed. “You could live there too.”

“Did your fire go out?”

“Yeah. Shichiro tried to warm water above it.” Hatano shivered as he leaned against the trunk.

I grabbed some sticks and ghosted my hands over the rough bark until it caught flame.

Hatano sighed contently as I moved the warmth toward him. “I was serious about you living there.” His soft brown eyes met mine.

“I don’t show just anyone my skills.” I separated small flames and weaved them around him. He held still but relaxed as the warmth enveloped him. “Besides, I’ve always been here.”

“Think about it, okay?” He moved slightly, and I dissipated the fire. “How am I supposed to grab this burning stick again?”

I exhaled a laugh. “I’ll walk you home.”

I quickly descended and bundled some wood together before lighting them, leaving one end untouched for Hatano.

As he jumped or fell the rest of the way, I stepped out into the rain. It surrounded me, but I never let it land directly on me. “My tree is going to get wet while I’m gone.”

“Everything is wet right now, Aguri.” Hatano gave me a look as he hesitantly stepped out from under the tree’s branches. I bent the water away from him with minimal effort.

“Let’s get going.”

*

I left Hatano before we reached the cave, wanting to avoid the prying eyes of the other abandoned kids. I kept the rain away as I watched him through the trees.

Someone asked Hatano a question I couldn’t hear, and he laughed.

“It’s a secret,” he replied to her, his voice just loud enough to reach me.

I turned and headed back home.

*

The heavy rains barely let up over the next week. Each time I ventured into town, the villagers whispered of flooding rivers and farms being washed away. Even the Tatsuta which flowed through the Imperial Palace was not spared. It was said to have expanded to three times its original size already. There were even rumors that the rush of the river was so loud that the Emperor could not rest.

It had been over a week since Hatano’s last visit when I heard a noise in the forest.

“Aguri!”

Why is someone calling me? Where have I heard that voice before?

“Aguri? Aguri, please!” Her voice cracked.

She’s one of Hatano’s misfits.

I scrambled down the tree quickly, barely spotting her drenched frame.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, and she startled before closing the distance between us.

“You have to help Hatano!” she begged, and I couldn’t tell whether her cheeks were covered in rain or tears. “He’s sick.”

Fear coursed through my heart. “Let’s go.”

*

When I made it to their little cave in the woods, there was no light coming from the dark entrance.

“When did the fire go out?” I asked the small girl following me.

“Three days ago.”

We entered the cave and swung around a small corner to where Hatano was resting. He was far too pale and sweat glistened on his skin. There were two kids sitting next to him looking terrified.

“I want you three to go get as many sticks as you can, okay? I am going to build a fire.” They scurried out, eager to help Hatano. He was laying on all five of their sleeping mats piled up, but water had still soaked in. I concentrated, drawing out the water and expelling it from the cave.

I placed a hand on Hatano’s forehead. He’s too warm.

One of the boys rushed in, dropping a pile of sticks in front of me.

“Thank you.” I set to work, building a fire in the least conspicuous way possible. Before long, it was roaring with heat. “I wish I could get some medicine.”

“Imada is trying today, but we’ve all failed.” The little girl placed her sticks down in one of the corners of the cave.

“How long has he been like this?”

“At least four days.” Her voice was quiet.

“Why didn’t you come find me earlier?”

“Hatano said only your name today while he was dreaming.”

I closed my eyes. “I’ll figure something out.”

*

After building a small mud dam to keep water out of their cave, I left for town.

But villager after villager turned me away.

“Please! My friend is ill!”

“Our Emperor is sick and dying, and you want me to help some orphan?” The woman scowled and left me outside in the rain.

But she gave me an idea. The next person I saw I asked about the Emperor.

“No priest or princess has been able to stop the Tatsuta’s roar.”

But I can do something they can’t.

*

I stole a formal kimono to wear to the palace.

I can only pray this works.

By keeping the rain off of my body and claiming I was a priestess who heard of the Emperor’s plight, the guards let me through and guided me to the banks.

The river was deafening and swollen far beyond last year’s levels.

“Suijin, hear my prayers! Let your gifts bestowed upon me cease this torrent! Let the Emperor rest at last!” I closed my eyes and swept my arms out, forcing as much of the water away as I could.

When I opened my eyes again, it was quiet. The river had settled down into its narrow bed once again.

While rains still fell, they were lighter.

*

The Emperor rewarded me generously for allowing his rest.

Hatano recovered, and we built a house in the woods that stayed dry and sheltered all of us forgotten children.

Despite me leaving the palace, the river stayed down. I visit Suijin’s shrine every week, thanking him for his blessing.

Author's Note: Once again I got carried away and added magic into another tale. The original fairy tale is the story of Princess Hase who is able to calm the river's noise that is disrupting the Emperor's sleep by reading a beautiful poem/prayer that she wrote. I adapted this so that the poor girl with magic powers that could actually move water would be the one saving the Emperor. However, I didn't want to take religion out of it entirely, so Aguri prays to the Shinto god of water, Suijin.

I spent entirely too much time researching again, from trying to find out what Japanese orphanages are like to what kinds of trees grow in the region this is set in and whether or not there are lots of caves in Japan.

And, as always, I tried to pick fitting names. I tried to look up old/traditional Japanese names so that they didn't sound too modern. Aguri means "excessive" and is a name especially poor people would give to a child after they'd had too many and didn't want any more. Hatano and Imada's names were both drawn from similar lists and have farming related meanings. Shichiro means seventh son.

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

Image Information: "Burnett River in Flood" by Sweetbixkid.

Reading Notes: Japanese Fairy Tales (Ozaki) Part B

I was a little disappointed in the tale of The Goblin of Adachigahara. If the Buddhist priest had not looked would she have avoided killing him? I wanted to believe it was some kind of mistaken identity where the woman was thought to be the goblin, but in actuality someone else was framing her. It would also be interesting to do a possession story since the visitor is a priest, but I don't think that would work the same way it does in Christianity.

As for the Ogre of Rashomon, I was disappointed that Watanabe never got to find and kill the ogre for good. However, I was surprised at the ogre's dedication to getting his arm back. The fact that he went to the effort of finding out who Watanabe's old nurse was and transforming into her in order to trick him was commendable. Besides rewriting this with a better ending, there isn't really much I'd do for this one.

The reason I picked this collection of myths was for the last story though. I read the story of Hase-Hime last week because I love princesses. I thought it was super fun and amazing, but I wanted Hase-Hime to have been a little more useful. My plan for rewriting this story is the similar to most of my short stories I've done so far. I want to take just the part where Hase-Hime writes the poem and reads it to calm the river and retell that.

I want my main character to be a poor street kid whose friend knows she can do magic so she reads a spell by the river to make it stop, and the Emperor rewards her instead of Hase-Hime.


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

Image Information: "Burnett River in Flood" by Sweetbixkid.