Week Fourteen Storytelling: Kindness

“You don’t have to work out here, Katya.” Prince Nikita handed me a piece of his lunch. “My father could provide you with a dowry and arrange a husband for you.”

I snorted. “No thanks. I am more than happy here.”

“You are not paid well, and we both know it.”

“I am given room and board. Three kopecks beyond that is enough.”

“You are worth more than that.” Prince Nikita shook his head before getting back on his horse and riding away.

*

An hour later I was running an errand in town. A frightened screech echoed out from the alley I was passing.

Inside was an old man holding a tiny cat in an even tinier cage.

“Release it at once!” I shouted.

“For three kopecks, he is yours.” The old man’s eyes glinted mysteriously.

I threw my salary at the man and freed the poor animal from its prison, scooping it up into my hand. I turned to berate the man, but he had vanished.

*

Slowly, I nursed the kitten back to health, keeping it inside my pocket while I worked. Each day, he grew stronger and bigger, his black fur becoming glossy.

And Prince Nikita didn’t return, so I spent my lunch break alone in the orchard for the first time in years. According to a rumor, his father had sent him away to a coastal boarding school.

*

As Chernysh grew bigger, it became harder to keep him with me. He outgrew my pocket quickly. Leaving him home failed, so he stayed by my side in the fields. Although he never strayed far from me, I heard the murmurs of my coworkers. Some whispered that his black coat was cursed, while others muttered that Chernysh was getting too big and would soon attack someone.

But he was too loyal for that. I knew that unless I was endangered, he was docile and laid patiently at my feet. He kept me warm at night, and I gave him half of my food, unwilling to let him go without again.

*

“Katya, your pet is scaring the other laborers. Get rid of it or you’re fired,” my boss glared at Chernysh who was almost as tall as my hip now.

“Goodbye then.”

*

We wandered by the side of the road for awhile, Chernysh brushing up against my legs almost as an apology.

“Don’t worry.” I scratched behind his ears.

“Miss!” an old woman called. “Think that big cat of yours can catch some mice?”

*

After Chernysh exterminated all of the pests from the woman’s house, she let us stay the night.

And this is how we traveled. Helping people from town to town, I saw so much of the country. Citizens heard stories of Chernysh and flocked to see us. There were rumors that I was a sorcerer who enslaved a wild panther or that I had been raised by animals.

Almost three years had passed by the time we reached the ocean.

But just as we arrived, a huge rumble echoed from the cliffs as chunks of rock broke apart.

“Landslide!” Someone sprinted past me.

“Let’s go, Chernysh!” Instead of turning around, we headed for the crushed structures as soon as the dust had settled.

Chernysh loped ahead of me, searching the remains for signs of life.

“Head to the academy, Lady Katya!” a fleeing villager shouted, pointing to a mass of timber sticking out of a cluster of rocks.

“Understood!” As soon as I got to the wreck, Chernysh stopped in front of a pile of rubble. As he pushed rocks with his paw, I rolled some of the larger rocks away before finding a sturdy pole for leverage.

As I removed the last boulder, I saw the boy trapped in a hollow space.

“Can you move?” I offered him a hand, and he took it, nodding. “Head to the village.”

Chernysh and I worked for hours, slowly freeing students from the remains of their institution with the occasional aid of volunteers.

By the time night fell, I was beginning to think we wouldn’t find anymore survivors.

Just as I was about to give up, Chernysh stopped.

After I dug through the rocks, I found a man about my age whose legs were partially crushed under a stone.

I’m not sure he’s alive. I worked quickly, motioning for the physician on standby.

“Prince Nikita!” She shouted, desperately feeling for a pulse. “He’s still alive!

With our combined strength, Chernysh and I freed the prince’s legs, and the women whisked away my old friend before I could speak to him.

After that, we found no more survivors.

*

Despite the numerous skills I had learned in my years traveling, I had never mastered medicine. Instead, Chernysh and I worked fixing the damaged buildings and farmland.

As I worked, I heard numerous stories about the prince’s steady recovery and the king’s possible visit.

And one day, he was just there, dressed in beautiful finery. “I hear you are the one who saved my son?”

I knelt. “It was my honor.”

“My son’s hand in marriage is yours if you want it. An enchantress princess beloved by all would make a fine queen someday.” He smiled before leaving.

Marry Prince Nikita? We were friends years ago, but now?

Chernysh rubbed against the side of my legs, and I scratched his ears. He nudged me towards where Prince Nikita was being treated.

“Fine.” I sighed, temporarily abandoning my work.

As I got closer, I could see Prince Nikita resting outside and hear his agitated voice.

“You promised me to an enchantress?!”

“She saved your life. Do not forget that.”

“I was your friend first before I was this enchantress you speak of.” Chernysh followed as I walked towards him.

“Katya?” His eyes widened. “You’re the enchantress?”

“At your service, my prince.” I smirked, and Chernysh purred.

Author's Note: For this retelling, I mostly based it off the story of "The Three Copecks" in which at the beginning, a boy says if he truly serves his master well, let the kopeck he throws into a well float at the end of the year. It doesn't until the third year when all three of them come to the surface. He goes into town and then sees children torturing a cat who he then buys for the three kopecks. The cat brings him fortune but not quite in the same way I wrote it. I knew I wanted the cat to grow big and powerful, but I was going to keep the hero a male until I read a story about an enchantress princess. So I switched to a heroine and decided to try to get her to become a princess somehow due to her cat friend.
Thus led to Katya whose name I must have picked subconsciously. Besides her cat adventures, I added in the king giving away the prince's hand in marriage. This happens to princesses all of the time in fairy tales, and readers mostly don't bat an eye. Yet it felt so strange gender swapped.

As for her feline friend, Chernysh is a diminutive form of the Russian word for "black" and is one of the most popular cat names in Russia.

Bibliography: "Russian Folktales" by W. R. S. Ralston.

Image Information: "black-panther" by LetsCountTheWays

Week Thirteen Storytelling: Upon a Hill

“There’s something wrong with papa.” Gianna tugged on my apron, looking up at me with her big sad eyes.

My blood ran cold, and I quickly wiped the grease off my hands. Following Gianna’s small frame, she led me into the living room.

On the floor lay my father, flat on his back near the fire.

“Where are Rosalia and Mariella?” I felt his forehead before pulling the blankets up higher. Papa mumbled his appreciation before tumbling back into fitful sleep. He’s getting worse.

“Rosie went out with Piero, and Mari wanted crepes today.”

“Crepes,” I muttered incredulously. “Will you fetch me a washcloth, Gianna?”

She nodded before tottering off.

His condition isn’t improving. I sighed. The Pellegrino’s clock needs to be repaired by tomorrow. How am I going to finish in time?

“Is there any medication left?”

Gianna shook her head and handed me the towel.

“Nothing is working.” I wiped my father’s forehead, watching as the water droplets ran into his white hair. Gianna curled into my side. “We’ll have a family meeting when they get home.”

*

By the time both of my older sisters had returned, Gianna and I had made dinner and had the laundry drying outside.

“You were both supposed to watch over him today!” I yelled as loudly as I could without risking waking Papa.

“Gia was here.” Rosalia rolled her eyes. “Besides, if I can get Piero to propose, we can afford a bigger house that isn’t drafty.”

I glared at her.

“And medication. Of course,” she finished, trying to cover up her own greed.

“I couldn’t finish the Pellegrino’s clock because I had to take your shifts. They’re coming tomorrow! What’s your excuse, Mariella?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need one. No one put you in charge when Mama died. Don’t forget that I’m still two years older than you.”

“Then why don’t you act it and show some responsibility. Did you use any of our money?”

Her gaze shifted uncomfortably away from me.

“Answer me, Mari.”

“It was only a few cents.”

“Papa will die if we can’t buy the medicine! He might die even with it!” I ran my hands through my hair. “I’m going to try to finish the Pellegrinos’ clock. Don’t bother me.”

I locked the door to the cramped work room and didn’t come out until dawn.

*

Despite completing the order for the Pellegrinos, they couldn’t pay me.

“I will have to beg the doctor to make the tonic again. I only wish that it would work this time.”

*

“If you can’t pay Tiziana, I can’t give you anything.” The physician crossed his arms.

“Please, he’ll die without it!” I offered him all the money I had.

“He’d die even if I did give it to you.” The old man shook his head, slowly closing his door. “Be gone. Don’t make a bigger fool out of yourself.”

“Please! How can I go back to my sisters?” I banged on the door to no avail.

What am I going to tell Gia? I thought of Gianna’s sad eyes, Mariella’s fear hidden behind a tough façade, and the disgusted look in Rosalia’s eyes every time Piero touched her. I can’t go home empty handed.

*

“They were counting on me.” I placed the wildflowers next to the rough stone. “If you were here, you’d know what to do, Mama.”

The sun was already slipping dangerously close to the horizon. Soon, one of my sisters would be sent to look for me.

“Just tell me what I should do.” I sat quietly, staring at her small grave marker beneath the tree until I heard a noise.

A deer darted through the woods, startling me.

Is this my sign? It stopped and turned around to look at me.

I glanced back at the road to town before following the deer farther into the woods.

*

As soon as it had grown dark, I lost the deer and had to resort to blind stumbling through the forest.

Even if I wanted to turn back now, I have no idea which way to go. I shivered in the night air.

Up ahead, I finally spotted a light in the distance. Maybe I can ask for directions back to town or warm up by a fire for a little bit.

As I got closer, I realized the light came from an estate so large it was almost a castle.

Another gust of wind blew through me, casting a handful of snowflakes into my hair.

Rushing towards the huge wooden doors, I knocked twice before letting myself in.

“Excuse me? Is anyone home?” I called, my voice echoing through the grand foyer. I quickly spotted the fire and rushed to warm my frozen fingers beside it.

“How dare you trespass!” A man was towering over me before I even realized it. A large black cloak engulfed his body.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I fervently apologized, trying to back away toward the door. “I’ll leave right now.”

“Why are you here?” his voice was quieter, but I could still hear the anger in it.

“I don’t know! My father is deathly ill, and I was praying for a sign, and I got lost and ended up here, and I’m so so sorry,” I rambled, trying to inch away.

He was silent for a moment before taking one massive step closer. I almost thought I could see the outline of his face inside the cloak, but it didn’t make sense.

“What if I told you I could cure him?”

“What?” The word came out as merely an exhale. “I’d do anything.”

“Stay here forever, and I swear to you that your father will be cured.”

Fear crept into my heart, and I closed my eyes.

But all I could see behind my eyelids was my sisters’ fear and Papa’s withering frame. “If you can really save him, I’ll do it.”

And this is how our story began.

Author's Note: Honestly this story was supposed to be different. I misremembered my idea and forgot to check my reading notes. The initial myth was the Italian version of Beauty and the Beast. I kept the two sisters she had in the original tale, but I gave Tiziana a younger sister as well who was just trying her best. On top of that, I strayed from the source material again by having Tiziana end up sort of seeking out the Beast rather than her dad being detained for stealing a rose.
I would have loved to write more of an actual love story between Tiziana and the stranger/Beast, but the word count meant it was not to be. If I had had more time, I would have rewritten it again with less initial family time, but life is a bit too crazy for that these days. 

All of the names were pulled from an Italian name list on nameberry.com

Bibliography: "Zelinda and the Monster" by Thomas Crane

Image Information: Personal photo taken by my mom in Switzerland.

Week 12 Storytelling: Ashen Warrior

The Samiyan Kingdom was small, but it controlled the mouth of the river that snaked through the entire continent. This ocean port was so successful that it made twice the money of far larger countries.

But despite its wealth, it had no standing army and was vulnerable to attacks. Seven factions guarded the borders, however, they fought only for their own territory, not Samiya.

Fifteen years ago, there was a family that fought for the country as a whole. They were nomads, riding wherever there was a border dispute or towns in danger. But when the parents died in the line of duty, the other factions mocked their children, refusing to help the little ones. While Guinevere did the best to raise her younger sister Elleah, Guinevere died of a plague.

Although Elleah grew up all alone, she quickly became the strongest fighter throughout the entire continent.

During her eighteenth year, the Tensha began an invasion. Their troops amassed all along the land border, drawing arguments from all seven factions as to how to rebuff the attack.

Although Elleah tried to bring order to the masses, they refused to listen to her.

As the attacks escalated, the prince had no choice but to get involved. He rode to the center of the border. While a great strategist, the prince was not a warrior. He organized a tournament to raise morale and find the best fighter to lead his troops into battle.

Elleah didn’t care about being recognized as leader, however. She simply wanted to defend the country that her parents died for.

On the other hand, it seemed like every member of the seven factions was participating in the tournament. Each gladly fought their brothers, sisters, and countrymen all for a chance at the title.

Every day for seven days they fought each other, swords clashing against armor. Finally, there were only five left. Just as the prince was about to decide what to do with the odd man out, Elleah rode by on her way to a skirmish, flying under the flag of the country and not a faction.

“Warrior! Join our fight for a chance to lead my army!” he commanded.

“I desire nothing but peace for Samiya, my lord. I must be on my way,” she replied, intending to turn to the east and leave.

“This is an order from the prince of the land whose flag you fly under.”

“As you command then, my liege.” Elleah jumped off her horse and entered the arena.

With her helmet and armor on, none of the fighters recognized her as the dirty orphan they saw when they looked at her.

But as a warrior, she was incredible. Her match against the unpaired fifth person was over in two minutes after she knocked the sword from his hands.

“But we have reached the same problem again!” someone cried at the remaining three fighters.

“I’ll fight the two of you at once if you’d like. I need to get to Mikusa.”

“Arrogant girl!” one of the two finalists yelled.

“We agree! Let’s get her!” The other brandished her sword.

Elleah parried their blows and landed many of her own but always with the blunt face of her sword. We need every warrior we have. No use damaging them.

As Elleah knocked the man out with a well-placed kick, the woman hit the sword out of Elleah’s hands.

“No matter.” Elleah disarmed the woman across from her and sent her sprawling to the ground. “I am free to leave now, correct?”

The prince was so impressed that words failed him, and Elleah took off for Mikusa, not even pausing to grab her sword.

“Seize her! She is to unite the factions!” the prince declared, but she had gotten too much of a head start. “I know not where she rides, but I have this.”

In his hands, he held Elleah’s sword, engraved with the message her father had used to propose to her mother and the only thing Guinevere had been able to save when their parents died.

“We will find her, and she will lead us in the coming campaign!” The prince thrust her sword into the air, and the people cheered.

The next day the prince went back to the arena, only to find numerous people lined up with Samiya’s flag emblazoned on their armor.

“What is all this?” the prince asked, but the people only argued.

“I’m the warrior who won!”

“No, it is me! I need my sword!”

The prince sighed, realizing that he’d have to entertain all of them to find the real one.

Presenting Elleah’s sword, each fake was asked what the inscription was, but all of them failed. Some demanded another chance, but the sword was too heavy for them or they couldn’t get used to the counterbalance.

After testing every person in the arena, the prince ended up with a standing army all wearing the Samiyan flag on their armor, but he was still missing the leader.

“Does anyone know where she went?” he asked. “Please.”

“She was headed to Mikusa, milord,” the woman she fought offered finally. “The Tensha are advancing rapidly there.”

“Very well! Let us ride and defend our borders!”

When the prince arrived in Mikusa flanked by all of his men and women, he saw her.

Elleah was leading a makeshift army of citizens with pots and pans, herself only armed with a dull practice sword. But she was winning nonetheless.

“For Samiya!” the prince cried, lofting her sword above his head.

“For Samiya,” his army replied, pushing the Tensha back onto their own land.

“I believe this is yours.” The prince handed Elleah her sword. “Fight for me. Become the leader of this army.”

“I have always fought for you as my parents did before me. These people will not follow me, but I will do as you ask.”

“We will follow you, Commander, we swear!” several voices insisted.

And that is how Elleah became the leader of Samiya.

Author's Note: This wasn't quite how I originally envisioned writing this story, but I still think it worked out okay. The initial idea is of course Cinderella, but there were multiple different versions in the reading I did for this week, giving me lots of ideas to choose from. Rushen Coatie was very similar to what I normally think about when I think of Cinderella, except the ball was a church gathering of Yuletide and a little red bull functioned more as her fairy godmother than anything else. I mostly went off of this version, but I wanted to make Elleah (Ella was too obvious, but this name sounded like a nice alternative) stronger and a warrior who lost her sword not a shoe.

I would have loved to wrap up the ending a little better, but I once again found myself at exactly 1,000 words.

As for names, the title came from a friend when I asked my classmates in Japanese to come up with a title for a Cinderella adaptation. Besides Guinevere and Elleah, I made up all of the other names. I realized after I finished writing that, again, save for Guinevere which I randomly picked off of the top of NameBerry's webpage, that all of them follow the Japanese language structure. It's invaded my whole life now, for better or worse.

Bibliography: "Rushen Coatie" by Joseph Jacobs

Image Information: "Albion Arn Film Sword" by Søren Niedziella. 

Week Eleven Storytelling: Heart's Desire

Aethelreda was a curious child, learning to crawl by the time she was four months old.

As she was the princess of the kingdom, her parents were delighted by her curiosity. Aethelreda grew up quickly, switching from various fascinations once she mastered them.

It wasn’t until she tried to become a knight that she found her happiness. Every day she learned horse riding and sword fighting.

By the time she was eighteen, she had helped everyone she could in the capital city and surrounding towns.

“Father, I long to go on a real quest. I want to find my fated one,” she pleaded.

“Very well, my child. In the treasure room, there is a magic mirror. Use it to find your heart’s desire.” The king smiled down at her.

“Thank you, Father!” Aethelreda kissed his cheek before racing to the treasure room. As soon as she was inside, Aethelreda spotted the ornate handheld mirror.

Staring into the depths of her reflection, she made her wish. “Show me the man who will stand by my side.”

Her image rippled, and the mirror showed a tall man, half-dressed in armor. His muscles rippled in the sunlight, and his shield laid on the ground next to him, the name Artemis emblazoned onto it.

So my fated one is Artemis. She couldn’t explain it, but Aethelreda was disappointed. He was a strong knight, but her heart didn’t move.

But the mirror can’t be wrong. So Aethelreda bid her parents farewell and rode off in search of Artemis.

She followed his trail for a week, stopping to help whoever needed her. By the time she finally saw him, she was in a different country.

Keeping her helmet on and concealing her identity, she shouted at him from atop her horse. “Sir Artemis! Fight me so that I may see you are worthy!”

“Sir Knight, I accept your challenge!”

The two knights crossed swords, desperately searching for the upper hand. As the battle wore on, the two began to tire, but Aethelreda would not give up.

As she threw all her remaining strength into her final blow, she knocked the sword right out of his hands.  

“You…you’ve bested me.” Artemis’s face was contorted in shock. “As the loser of this battle, I shall serve you and your noble quest.”

He’s so loyal. But she did not love the man before her. I’m certainly not going to tell him that he was my quest.

“It is sunset. Let us camp for the night.”

“My liege,” Artemis replied before embarking to make a fire.

“How was this wrong?” Aethelreda studied the mirror in her bag. “Artemis is nice, but we cannot be destined to get married.”

Maybe I wasn’t clear enough, Aethelreda realized, before making eye contact with her reflection again. “Show me the one I am fated to be with and love with all my heart.”

Aethelreda’s image dissolved, and a new one formed.

This time it wasn’t Artemis.

The mirror displayed a woman riding a horse through the woods with reckless abandon. Her silky blond hair flowed in waves behind her. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight, but her expression was grim.

Aethelreda’s heart skipped a beat. She’s beautiful.

This… she’s what’s been missing. And everything made a little more sense.

“Where can I find her?” Aethelreda insisted, watching the picture change again.

In the image, she was surrounded by dark woods with no distinguishing features.

How am I going to find her? The woman in the mirror glanced behind her with fear before urging her white horse faster. I must find her before whoever she is running from does.

“Artemis! There is an emergency! We must leave at once!” Aethelreda called, and he came running.

“Yes, my liege!” He mounted his horse, and they were off at a breakneck pace.

They rode east, trying to find the land that was already so dark.

They galloped through the twilight, Artemis already proving himself to be a loyal knight. I hope we shall go on more quests together.

After some time had passed, Artemis shouted over the steady rhythm of hooves. “My liege, we must rest or our horses will give out!”

He is right. “Yes, Artemis!”

They came to a stop near a stream.

“May I ask what the emergency is?” Artemis’s words were soft.

“I—” Just as she was about to tell him everything, hooves thundering on packed dirt echoed through the forest. Artemis and Aethelreda jumped on their horses and prepared their swords, waiting for whatever came for them.

Just as the noise became almost deafening, out of the woods shot a pale figure.

It was her. Instinctively, Aethelreda rode after her, her loyal knight following behind.

The radiant figure turned in fear to see two knights chasing her too. She urged her horse again, but it could only go so fast.

“We are here to help!” Aethelreda cried.

“Then do something about that horrible beast!” the woman insisted, her voice like music to Aethelreda.

“I will defeat whatever it is you run from!” Aethelreda declared, spinning her horse around and taking off in the opposite direction.

Aethelreda only had to ride for a few moments before she came across a terrifying creature who looked to be half-giant and half-beast.

“You will cease at once!” she declared without fear, and it roared toward her.

Aethelreda and Artemis fought together, making quick work of the monster.

“Let us return to her!”

They raced back towards where they’d last seen the woman.

Finally Aethelreda spotted her hair dancing in the wind.

When they reached her, Aethelreda dropped to one knee, removing her helmet.

“My fair lady, when I asked my father’s magic mirror for my fated one, I saw your face and have only desired you since. Pray, if my affections go unanswered, you may leave at once. But if there is hope for me, tell me your name.”

The enchanting woman smiled down at Aethelreda. “I am Florence.”

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing this adaptation. In the original story, the warrior princess Britomart looks into a magic mirror and sets off after her fated one, Artegall. At one point while she is riding through the woods on her quest, an enchanting woman named Florinell rides by as if running from something. Although I'm not sure whether or not I ever figured out who Florinell was, I loved the idea of her running through the woods, and Britomart going to help her. So, I just changed the initial prophecy a bit and ended up with my fierce lesbian warrior princess. 

As always, I played around with names. I thought about simplifying Britomart's name to something like Brittney, but it just didn't have the same feel. Instead, I found out that her name meant fair maiden, so I picked another unique name with a similar meaning as Aethelreda means "noble maiden." I wanted to change Artegall's name to something like Artie or Arthur, but Artie felt too short for the time period and Arthur is too synonymous with the knights of the round table. So I kept three letters and decided on Artemis. For Florinell, I kept the same first four letters and simply switched it to Florence (probably because I love Florence & The Machine so much that the working title was Florence & the Warrior Queen).

Bibliography: "Faerie Queen - Britomart" by Mary Macleod.

Image Information: "Antique Edwardian Silver Hand Mirror" by Lamerie. Cropped slightly.

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. 

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

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.

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.

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.