Week 11 Storytelling: What Really Happened Up on that Hill

“Jack and Jill went up the hill

To fetch a pail of water;

Jack fell down and broke his crown

And Jill came tumbling after.”

UGH! I have been haunted by this incessant rhyme since I was ten years old. Ever since my twin brother and I fell down that god-forsaken hill, everybody thinks it is sooo funny to tease us with that song. Constantly people are saying, “Ooh, be careful. We all know how clumsy Jill is,” like it's my nonexistent clumsiness that caused my brother to fall down that hill and crack his skull open! Well, here is the real story of what happened that day, and trust me… it was not my fault.

It was a beautiful Wednesday afternoon. Mother had sent Jack and me to go outside and play at the playground, which just happened to be at the bottom of a rather large hill with a wishing-well at the top of it. My brother and I were enjoying ourselves, just innocently playing, when all of a sudden who comes running up to me but Little Miss Muffet. With a look of sheer terror on her face, she swiftly grabbed me by my shoulders and began to shake my entire body uncontrollably. She then grabbed at her throat and, to the best of her abilities, struggled to softly say the word “water.”

Immediately I yelled to my brother, “Jack, run up to the top of that hill and fetch some water out of the well! Little Miss Muffet is choking!”

Jack’s eyes drastically became wide. He hastily turned towards the hill and began to sprint up to the top. I, unfortunately, was stuck with the overly frantic Little Miss Muffet, my left arm around her shoulders to steady and comfort her as we briskly walked up to that wretched pail of water.

It took us few minutes to reach the top, but once there Little Miss Muffet seemed to be in less of a tizzy. Jack had just finished pulling up the pail filled with water when we arrived. He gently handed it to the now sweaty and trembling Little Miss Muffet, who quickly received the pail with her quivering fingers and began drinking down the water in gargantuan gulps. My brother and I stood there in front of her, watching, as she panted between her large sips.

“Muffet, will you tell us what happened?” I asked her, as her breathing began to shallow.

“I…I…I can’t,” she uttered just before taking another large swallow of water.

“Well, try for us, would you? I bet you will feel much better once you do.” Jack nodded in agreement to my attempt to console her with my words.

Her shaking had ceased. With a deep sigh she set the, now virtually empty, pail on the stone edge of the wishing-well. She looked at Jack and me and said, “Alright, I’ll tell you. But let me start by saying that today has been the worst day of my life.”

Oh Muffet! She always did have a flair for the overly dramatic.

“Well, I had been having a horrible morning, so I decided to go get my favorite chocolate muffin from the bakery to hopefully cheer me up. I found a little bench in a grassy area to peacefully sit and enjoy my beloved muffin. I was on my second bite when suddenly a gigantic spider appeared next to me! As you know I have severe arachnophobia, that's the fear of spiders by the way, and so, with a mouth full of muffin, I just took off running. That’s when I ran into you, Jill. The worst part is, not only did the whole incident cause me to choke on the fluffy chocolate morsel, but I didn’t even get to finish my muffin!” A look of despair creeped over Little Miss Muffet’s face as she finished her story.

Jack and I just stood there looking at each other, neither of us knowing what to say to her. With her expression now a dramatic look of despair, Little Miss Muffet solemnly turned away from us to look out at the little town below. I followed behind her and gently placed my hand on her shoulder, while Jack placed his chin on my shoulder. It's his umm "special" little way of telling me that he's bored *eye roll*.

Out of nowhere Little Miss Muffet began screaming at the top of her lungs. Still shrieking, she pointed to the brick wall out in the distance. I squinted my eyes as I strained to see what the commotion was all about. Then my eyes grew wide… Humpty Dumpty had fallen off of his wall and had broken into a million pieces!!! As her shrill screaming continued to pierce the once quiet air around us, Little Miss Muffet forcefully pushed me backwards as she sprinted down the hill.

Well, this is how the horrific incident occurred. When Little Miss Muffet shoved me, it caused me to lose my balance and fall backwards onto my brother, causing him to fall down the hill.

Still plopped on the grass where I had fallen, I turned around to laugh with my brother about our crazy encounter with our overly eccentric friend, when I saw that he was missing. I crawled on my tummy to the edge of the hill to look down below. That’s when I saw it… the blood oozing from my brother's skull while he lay on the ground motionless. I was so terrified and shocked that I accidentally fell down the hill as well. Fortunately I wasn’t hurt, but I don’t remember anything else from that day.

Jack’s okay now, in case you were wondering. I can’t say the same for Humpty Dumpty though. But now do you understand why I hate that awful rhyme?! It reminds me of the day I almost lost my brother. 

Jack and Jill (Source)

Author's Note.  While my main focus was on the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme, I chose to intertwine several of the popular Nursery Rhymes to create one large, elaborate story. By combining several of the Nursery Rhymes together I was able to create and cause-and-effect chain of events that would emphasize the plausibility of the breaking of Jack's 'crown' to be more than just a random occurrence. Each nursery rhyme causes another nursery rhyme to occur, leading to the Jack and Jill situation. It is a massive cause and effect situation. If Little Miss Muffet had not been having a bad day, then she would not have gone to the bakery to get a muffin and been frightened by the spider, causing her to need to get water from Jack and Jill at the top of the hill, where she saw Humpty Dumpty die, causing her to push Jill who collided with Jack, thus causing Jack to break open his skull and almost die. 
In my storytelling I chose my main story to be focused on Jack and Jill. Writing it from Jill’s perspective gave the story another dimension to it and allowed me to incorporate other nursery rhymes while demonstrating that nursery rhyme characters have a personality all their own. I chose to keep Jack as a quiet type for two reasons. Firstly, because Jill is telling the story and she wants the main focus to be on her and how the rhyme hurts her. Jill is an attention snob in that way, so having Jack speak would take away from Jill’s spotlight. Secondly, as Jack is a ten-year-old boy, I felt as though he would potentially be shy around other girls, and his close relationship with his sister might causing him to only be openly vocal with her or people who he believes to have a close relationship with. Besides, at this point Jack is used to dealing with his sister's constant need to be the center of attention that he just sits back and enjoys the entertainment unfold before him. 

Bibliography.  

Jack and Jill - The Nursery Rhyme Book edited by Andrew Lang and illustrated by L. Leslie Brooke (1897)

Little Miss Muffet - The Nursery Rhyme Book edited by Andrew Lang and illustrated by L. Leslie Brooke (1897)

Humpty Dumpty - The Nursery Rhyme Book edited by Andrew Lang and illustrated by L. Leslie Brooke (1897)

Week 12 Storytelling: Love Letters Of Pied Piper

My Dearest Lorali,

I lie awake at night, consumed with thoughts of you. I long for the day until I may run my fingers through your lush blonde hair again. Money is hard pressed and, while music is my greatest passion, I must find a way to provide for you my dear. I am resolute in pursuing a task for pay without surrendering my love for music. Tomorrow I travel to Franchville. I hear their rat population is vast, slowly causing the town to be in habitable. May my conquest over the ghastly vermin situation be swift so that I may return to you soon. Be calm my love.

-Pied Piper

My Dearest Lorali,

The squeaking of rats is incessant. My task is of great importance. My bravery to conquer the wicked of this town comes only from my undying affection for you. The Mayor bestowed me fifty pounds once my task of ridding the town of every rat is completed. Fifty pounds!

With my pipe laid to my lips, I stepped out of the hall and began to play. As each note pierced the air the rats began to swarm at my feet. I played for a great distance, with hundreds of rats at my heels. Still playing, I hoped on to a small boat and floated out to the waters, the rat’s still following me into the water. Deeper and deeper into the water I sailed until every last rat in the village was extinct. I arrived on shore a hero and hastened to claim my reward.

Remain in the greatest of health. My journey has nearly concluded. Do not have sorrow. Our distance only causes our passion to grow. If only our hearts were always close together, words would not be so difficult to say. Remain my one and only, my treasure, my always.

-Pied Piper

My Dearest Lorali,

Regrettably my journey is still on going. The Mayor had deceived me! He now wishes to pay me a lowly twenty pounds. My fury is greater than the depths of hell! My anger more vast than the deepest ocean! Oh my love, how I wish you were here to calm my outrage. This Mayor will rue the day he deceived my good will. I will be counting down the days until we meet again. I pray that you will not feel the pain of our extended distance. We shall surely see each other soon. Be strong my love.

-Pied Piper

My Dearest Lorali,

It is not possible for one to feel as euphoric as I, but ‘tis the day I finally begin my return to you. My journey was a tedious one, but I bring many gifts with me to help with our work. We will no longer be slaves to our fate, but will now live like royalty. With my pipe I have procured for us a grand group of gleeful souls, eager to toil away. If it were so I would fly into your arms and thus I would know what home is. Love me and make me the happiest of men? My longing for you grows deeper for I know I will shortly be in your presence. Rest my love, for we will be united soon.  

-Pied Piper

Old Letters (Source) 

Author's Note.

The story of The Pied Piper is about a man who comes to a village and says that he can rid the town of their humongous rat infestation for fifty pounds. The Mayor agrees and so the Pied Piper plays his pipe leading the mice to the water where they all drowned and die. He then goes to collect his reward but is told that the town can only pay him twenty pounds. The Pied Piper feels as though he has been deceived by the towns folk so he picks up this pipe and plays a tune the lures all of the children from the town out into the woods, never to be seen again.

I decided that many musicians have a muse, so I decided to make the Pied Piper a striving musician who was desperately trying to be with his love, Lorali (yes I have been watching too much Gilmore Girls). I thought the love letters would be a way to establish that he was a struggling artist, desperately trying to win over his loved one’s affection. I added in the love letter parts while still keeping the basic plot points, but decided to keep the ending, when he takes the children, vague. It does not specifically say what happens to the kids so I figured why wouldn’t he just keep them as servants to make life easier for him and Lorali? 

Bibliography. More English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1894). 

Week 10 Storytelling: Ghost Diary

Dear Diary,

All hope is lost. My mother and father are dead and now my sister has passed away as well. I have no other family, so I am forced to live with strangers in the village. I appreciate them taking me in and caring for me, but I’m weak and so they tease me because I have no strength. Now I’m an orphan AND have no strength. It’s no wonder everyone picks on me.

Dear Diary,

Today everyone went hunting, leaving me alone in the house… again. I was feeling very lonesome, since I am always excluded and left alone, when I heard a noise. I got scared and decided to hide in case someone was coming to hurt me. I was hiding and the noise happened again and again and then all of a sudden a ghost came in! It went over to our water tub and drank some of the water, and then it left. I guess ghosts get thirsty too. I tried telling the people I live with about it but they didn’t really believe me. Here’s hoping that more ghosts show up tomorrow.

Dear Diary,

It happened again! I was all alone in the house when the walls and frames began to shake and the next thing I knew a whole bunch of ghost came tumbling into the house! It was so exciting because one of the ghosts was my sister! I missed her so much. They invited me to sit with them on the floor while they played wrestling games and told stories. They told me if I kept their stories a secret that they would make me strong! I’m so excited!

Dear Diary,

Well, I accidentally told the people that I was going to be strong and as soon as I did, all my strength was gone. It was not fun. To prove my strength, the villagers tied me to a post and told me to escape from the ropes and hit a drum that was on the other side of the room. But all my strength was gone and I was not able to escape, so I just looked like a dummy. Eventually they untied me and left to go to a singing contest without me. So here I am, alone in the house again, wallowing in my shame.

Dear Diary,

You will never believe what happened! My Mom and Dad, as ghosts, came in to visit me!!! Once I told them how I am always being picked on by the others and how I am always excluded from activities, Mom and Dad told me that I should come with them and become a ghost! I am so excited! So here’s hoping being a ghost is better than being human!

Ghost (Source)

Author's Note. This is based on the Eskimo Tale Qalaganguase, Who Passed to the Land of Ghosts. It is about a boy whose entire family is dead and he is forced to live with strangers in the village. Because he is weak they exclude him from everything and leave him alone in the house all day. While they were gone, ghosts would come and visit the boy. The ghosts told the boy if he did not tell the villagers about them, then they would give him strength, but the boy did not follow their instructions and as soon as he told the villagers of his strength, it began to leave his body. The ghosts then came back again to take the boy with them to the land of the ghosts and he left with them and became a ghost.
I felt it best to write this in diary form because the diary would have been used as a form of comfort for the boy since he was continuously left alone and had no family or friends. I did not include what happened after he became a ghost because I felt as though him leaving his diary would have been his way of letting go of the past and going on to a brighter future. Leaving the diary also would have allowed the villagers to read about the boy and make it into a story. 

Bibliography. Eskimo Folk-Tales by Knud Rasmussen with illustrations by native Eskimo artists (1921).

Week 4 Storytelling: Good Night, Tommy

It had been an exciting day at the zoo and Tommy wanted to do everything except go to sleep. His mother, on the other hand, was exhausted from the long day and wanted nothing more than for her rambunctious eight-year-old to go to sleep. So she corralled him into his room, helped him put on his dinosaur pajamas, herded him into his bed, and tucked his wiggling body into the sheets. With her son still squirming in his bed she looked down at him and, in a soft motherly voice, she said, “How about I tell you a bedtime story, Tommy?” With enthralled excitement, Tommy exclaimed, “YES!!” So the mother sat on the edge of the bed and began her story…

Winter herding in the American West (Source)

Once upon a time there was a group of cowboys who were starting a long journey herding their cattle from their ranch in Texas all the way up to a place in Wyoming. The cowboys would ride their horses all day and then stop and make camp to rest and eat at night. Now these cowboys had been traveling for several days and were beginning to enter territories that they had never seen before. One night a few of the cowboys became spooked and were afraid to continue their journey.

“I’m scared, y’all,” said Joe.

“Yeah! What if we ain’t gonna make it ta Wyomin'?” exclaimed Johnny.

Slim realized that they were growing more and more frightened by the minute. He looked around at the other cowboys and, in a friendly voice, said, “Why don’t y’all come on over here ‘round this campfire and I’ll tell y’all a story?” So they did as he asked and Slim began his story, “Alright, this is this story of Wren and the Rattlesnake…”

Rattlesnake (Source)

A long time ago, in a desert just like this, there was a little bird named Wren. Wren and his pals lived with other birds just like them in a part of the desert where there was a cluster of cacti. During the day all of the birds would fly from cactus to cactus to socialize and hang out with their friends. Every bird made sure they all stayed together among the cactus cluster so they would remain safe from snakes, hawks, and other predators. When it got dark, all of the birds would fly back to their home inside one of the cacti to sleep, but Wren would look up at the stars and dream about getting away from the group and exploring the desert.

Wren grew excessively tired of the same old routine. So one afternoon, after a typical day of socializing with the other birds, he came up with a plan to leave. Early the next morning Wren woke up just as the sun was rising in the sky and took flight. He flew and flew and flew until he reached a little tree where he could stop and rest in the shade. Now the Rattlesnake had been traveling the desert for some time and was growing hungry. As he was slithering along the sandy ground, he spotted Wren in the tiny tree and thought to himself, “That ssssure lookssss tassssty.”

So the Rattlesnake called to the bird, “Hey birdie! I’m a little lossst. Would you mind coming down here and helping me?”

Wren, alone and not knowing of the rattler's intentions, hopped down to a low-hanging branch. “Hi, I’m Wren. What can I help you with?”

Now the other birds had been socializing for a few hours when one of Wren's closest friends realized Wren had not joined the group and informed the rest of the birds about this matter. The birds became worried and decided to create a search party, consisting of Wren's five closet friends. The group of five started flying around the desert together looking for their buddy. They had been flying for a while when all at once they spotted their friend off in the distance talking to the Rattlesnake and immediately began to fly toward him. 

“Yeah, the plateau is right over there,” tweeted Wren to the Rattlesnake.

“Where? I can’t quite see it. You must be too high up. Hop down here and show it to me, would ya?” said the now confident Rattlesnake, his dinner just within his reach.

Just as Wren was about to hop down into the anticipating mouth of the Rattlesnake, his buddies swooped in, two of them grabbing him on either side by his wings, and forcefully flew him to safety on a higher branch, leaving the Rattlesnake on the ground below to starve. The five birds began tweeting at Wren, telling him that the snake was evil and trying to eat him. Wren suddenly realized the danger he had put himself in and felt a shamed. From then on Wren knew that he was always safer with his friends by his side.

Cactus Wren (Wikipedia Commons) 

Slim grinned when he was done telling the story because he could tell all was well. He had done nicely in comparing the birds being safe together to the situation that he and the other cowboys were in. All the cowboys felt at ease and were no longer scared because they knew that they were safer together than alone, just like the birds in Slim's story. So the next day they saddled up their horses and rode on to finish their inevitably successful journey, unafraid of what lay ahead.

As the mother finished her story, she looked down at her son’s limp sleeping body and smiled lovingly. She pulled the covers up over his chest and turned out the light. Tommy had finally fallen asleep. 

Christian Krohg (Painting 1883)

Author's Note:

My story is based on the Arabian Nights. These are stories that are told by Scheherazade who is telling stories to the Sultan so that he will keep her alive. Since the Sultan is keeping Scheherazade alive because of his interest in her stories,  the ultimate goal of the storytelling for Scheherazade is keeping herself alive. Her stories are all told at night, as a type of bedtime story to the Sultan. She tells them in a way that keeps him interested in the story and wanting to hear more. Therefore she cannot be killed because if she were killed then the Sultan could not hear the end of the story. In her stories some of the characters also tell stories, creating a story within another story. I really enjoyed the way she would begin telling a story, start to get into it and then have a character in that story tell his/her own story to the other characters. Other than there being a story within my story, I am comparing my storytelling to Arabian Nights because both use the storytelling to facilitate a goal. While Scheherazade is using it to save her life, the mother in my story is using storytelling to get her son to sleep so that she may have a few minutes of peace, quiet, and relaxation. 

Bibliography: The Arabian Nights Entertainments by Andrew Lang and Illustrated by H. J. Ford (1898)

Week 9 Storytelling: Coming To You Live!

Seagulls (Source)

The disaster had already occurred. The sheer force of the wind had knocked many of the trees down, half of the land was flooded due to the over powering ocean waves, and many of the people were completely terrified. It was the aftermath of a hurricane.

“My name is Betty and this is XYZ coming to you live after a great disaster has hit the Gulf of Mexico,” boomed the young news caster clenching her microphone. This was not her first news report, but it was her first natural disaster. She was nervous. With her blonde curls hair sprayed to perfection and the red rouge flawlessly spread across her lips, Betty look confidently into the camera exclaiming,

“As you can see a great tragedy has struck the people of the Gulf. In fact, the hurricane waters were actually so strong it created three large islands just off the coast of Texas. With their land significantly reduced and their homes destroyed, it looks like it will be a long recovery for these peoples. I have here with me an eye witness who can tell us what happened.”

The camera panned to the right, paused, only for a second, and then tilted downward. It was a small boy, no older than five-years-old. Betty was gracefully squatting down next to the young child, holding the XYZ news labeled microphone up to his face.

“Can you tell us your name?” Betty asked the young boy.

“Umm, Michael,” he said nervously, unable to look away from the camera.

“Hi Michael. A little birdie told me that you were able to see everything during the hurricane and even before hand. Can you tell me about it?”

“Uh-huh.” Still unable to remove his eyes to the glossy black lends, Michael took a deep breath and began to account the events leading up to the disaster.

“Well we used to live out over there,” he said pointing to three large islands in the distance, “but because the fierce tribes from the north came down and started to be mean to the birds, the Storm God came and saved his birdies. At least that’s what my mom says.”

“Storm God!” Betty said with a shocked expression across her face. “Tell me about him.”

Michael grasped the mic from Betty’s hand and pointing out to the vast ocean he began, “Well the Storm God lives wayyy out there in the warm water. He’s kinda scary because of his pet bird he rides. His bird’s name is Hurakan and he is HUGE and shoots lightening! But it’s ok because they only come to visit us when he needs more feathers from our pretty birds to make his cloak. We always know when he is coming because suddenly everything is cloudy and the wind blows really hard and it gets kinda dark and then my mom comes and pulls me into our wigwam. So then I miss all the fun. My mom always seems much happier when the Storm God is gone though.”

“Wow that’s really a story there Michael. But can you tell me more about how this Storm God saved the birds?” Betty said with a glowing smile across her face.

“Sure!” he exclaimed. “Well when the mean tribe came they started being mean to all of the birds. The birds started being really loud making weird chirpy, quaking noises. Then all of the sudden there was a big BOOM and a POW, and lots of lightening. Nighttime then came really fast and the ocean water started to be really loud with gigantic waves!”

“Oh wow!” Betty began, but was quickly interrupted by an exclamatory “I know!” from Michael.

“I was in my wigwam with my mom and dad but I could still hear the wind because it was really loud and then there was lots of water everywhere! When it finally stopped I crawled out of my wigwam and saw the water start to leave and pieces of the land started floating way! I guess that’s where all the birdies live now since the Storm God loves them so much.”

“So you’re telling me that the Storm God created a big storm just to create islands for his birds to live and plants to grow?” asked Betty unbelievingly.

“Yes!” Michael exclaimed. “The Storm God loves his birdies!”

Betty took the microphone from Michael’s hands. “Well thank you so much for sharing all of this with me Michael.”

“Yeah!” he exclaimed. “You know I’ve never been on live television before. I’ve never ever been on live television!”

“Really now!” Betty said with a giggle. “Well you’re a natural!”

Michael grinned from ear to ear as Betty patted him on the head and, with a kind nudge, she sent him back to his mother who was standing just shy of where they were filming. As Michael galloped towards his mom, Betty stood up and brought the microphone to her lips.

With a smile she looked at the camera and said, “There you have it. A Storm God came to the Texas Gulf and created a hurricane to protect his precious birds. He is truly a humanitarian and super hero all in one. For XYZ news, this is Betty signing off!”

The Storm God’s birds now had a new home on the islands where they could live safely under the shelter of their beloved Storm God. And with that, the tribes went on to peacefully co-exist in the great land of Texas.

Pelican Island (Source)

Author's Note. This retelling is based off the story When the Storm God Rides, which tells the Tejas Indians legend of how hurricanes came to be. The Storm God lived off the coast in the warm water and would come to the main land to collect the feathers from the birds that lived on the Gulf of Mexico for his cloak. He would come in riding his great thunder bird Hurakan, which is where hurricane gets its name from, and essentially causing a hurricane every time he would visit the mainland. When a new Indian tribe moved in and started to treat the birds badly, the birds began to cry out to the Storm God for help. This sent the Storm God into a rage causing him to create, what I would consider, a category 5 hurricane. The hurricane was so tremendous that it created islands off the coast for the birds to live peacefully and safe, creating a sanctuary for the birds and plant. With the birds on their own island the Storm God could visit them anytime he wished.  There is actually an island in Galveston called Pelican Island where many of the different types of birds (mostly pelicans) live peacefully. They call it a bird sanctuary. 

I chose to do a newscast as a fun way to tell the legend of how hurricanes came to be. Whenever there is a natural disaster there is always a news report over it, but what I chose to do was incorporate the recent viral video, which you can find on YouTube, of a little boy who was interviewed on Good Moring America who has been dubbed ‘Apparently’ kid. 

Bibliography. When the Storm God Rides: Tejas and Other Indian Legends retold by Florence Stratton and illustrated by Berniece Burrough (1936). 

Week 5 Storytelling: Madhavi's Memoir

Hi. I’m Madhavi, and this is my story…

Growing up I was one of eight, and the only girl for that matter. As my brothers and I got older, we decided it would be best if we all stayed in the same large house on our farm. Every day my brothers would tend to the fields, while I would get water from the nearby stream and then cook them dinner. I loved cooking dinner for my brothers! It was my little way of saying thank you for all their hard work and taking care of me. Unfortunately, my sisters-in-law did not quite seem to understand that. You see all seven of my brothers decided to marry, probably so that they could expand our family, but I am convinced that they married the seven most horrible women alive! I’m not really sure what these women’s problems were, I mean it’s not like I wasn’t cooking dinner for them too, but for some reason they were just extremely jealous of the fact that I cooked dinner every nights and they didn’t. So you know what those psychos did? They made a deal with a magical nature spirit called a Bonga, essentially selling me to him if he got rid of me! Well, at the time I was unaware of this plot, so I went out to the stream to get water for the boys like I normally do when suddenly the pitcher would not go in the water and the water began to swirl around me getting higher and higher! I screamed out to my brothers for help but none of them heard me, none of them came. I could feel myself drowning. The pitcher began to fill with water causing me to sink to the bottom,  drown and die. Suddenly I was alive again, only I was not all me. I had been transformed into a Bonga. And when I opened my eyes, there, before me, was the Bonga my sisters-in-law had promised me to, and he carried me away. Let me tell you something about this Bonga, he’s kind of a weird guy!

Well, I managed to escape that relationship by turning myself into bamboo. I thought all was good, I had peace and quiet, I was by that beautiful stream I died in; life was good. That is, until this Yogi decided to come on over, chop me down, and turn me into a fiddle. I mean who does he think he is! And then he wants me to make music to entertain people so that he could get paid! What was I getting out of it, you ask? Nothing, absolutely nothing. So I decided that I would make my music the best, and saddest, of all so that maybe I could escape this Yogi. As luck would have it, this Yogi guy decided to play me for the village chief who took me away from the Yogi, thank goodness! Well, this chief gave me to his son, and I was so delighted that I was in better hands that I produced wonderfully happy music every time I was played. During the day everyone would depart my new home, leaving me alone and bored. So I, as the Bonga girl, would come out of the fiddle every day, cook dinner for the family, eat my fair share, take a plate for the chief’s son to his room, and then re-enter my fiddle. Then one day I’m heading back to my fiddle prison, just minding my own business, when suddenly someone was grabbing me! I began screaming, that is until I realized that it was the chief’s son. Still holding onto me, he looked me in the eyes and told me that I was "the one." I guess I did something that impressed him...  and he didn’t even realize that I was human AND Bonga until his family come home and got all worked up about it. Like it’s some big deal or something.

So time went on, as it always does, and my old family, pre-drowning, decided to come visit the chief. I was so excited when I saw my seven brothers, but those stupid boys did not even recognize me, can you believe it!? I shook it off and decided to bring them some water and cook them dinner like I used to, hoping that maybe it would jog their memory or something: it didn’t. So I sat down next to them and began pouring my heart out to them, telling my brothers about the horrible treatment I was subjected to by their wives. I told them about every horrible thing that had happened to me since their wives made that evil plot with the Bonga. My brothers just looked at me, blank stares on their faces. That’s when I extracted my revenge! I looked at those seven boys dead in the eyes and said, “You must have know it all, and yet you did not interfere to save me.” Well, you should have seen the look on their faces! Shock, sadness, shame, and guilt all together! It was priceless.

I am telling you this not because it is a happy story, but because it is the true story. And I want my story to be known.

Source

Author's Note. This retelling is based off the story The Magic Fiddle. In the original story the sister (the Bonga girl) is betrayed by her sisters-in-law, made into a Bonga, then becomes bamboo and is turned into a fiddle. She seeks her revenge on her brothers by telling them that they must have known about their wive's plot against her. The woman originally did not have a name in the story, so I named her Madhavi. I wrote the retelling as if it were her memoir, her last words before the great beyond. By doing this I could further add emotions to the story. I felt as though writing it from Madhavi’s perspective gave a funny twist on an otherwise depressing story. Using verbal echoes from the original story is something I enjoy doing because it allows you to essentially keep a piece of the story within yours, making things more familiar to someone who has read it and easier for someone to follow if they have not. My verbal echo was the quote I used at the end of the last paragraph. It is an important part of the original story since it is the climax to when she exacts her revenge. But her revenge is not about betrayal or necessarily physical revenge, it is more revenge upon the soul. The massive amount of shame and guilt thrust upon her brothers in one single sentence was enough to torture them for a lifetime.

Bibliography. Indian Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1912).

Week 7 Storytelling: The Creation of Enemies

Long ago there were two little boys, named Tommy and Chuckie, who were the best of friends. Tommy and Chuckie were next-door neighbors and so they would play outside together everyday. Their parents had a magic ball that created a protective bubble around their houses so that the boys could play together and never be harmed. One day the ball was stolen, and all of the parents were sent into a panic about their boy’s safety.  Tommy and Chuckie overheard their parents panic and knew they would not be able to play together if they did not get the ball back. So the two set out on a journey to recover the ball.

“We must get the ball back,” said Tommy.

“But the ball is locked up in the mean man’s backyard,” replied Chuckie.

“Bring your doggie, Chuckie. Maybe he can dig a hole under the fence and get the ball for us!” said Tommy enthusiastically.

Chuckie suddenly became excited. So the two little boys snuck inside of Chuckie’s house, put his doggie on a leash, and ran out the door. Then Tommy began to walk down the cul-de-sac to the house where the mean man lived and Chuckie followed, dog in tow.

They then came to a busy street, in which Tommy was not allowed to cross. So Chuckie and his doggie used the crosswalk and made it to the other side. 

There at the corner of the street was the mean man’s house. Chuckie looked through a hole in the wooden fence and could see the ball in the middle of the yard. So he looked at his beloved doggie, which then licked Chuckie on the face, and told him to dig a really big hole under the fence. So the dog did as his little owner asked of him and dug a rather large hole under the fence and crawled under.

“Good job doggie!!” said Chuckie, “now get the ball and bring it to me, then I will give you a biiiiig treat when we get home.”

With its tail wagging and mouth slobbering, the dog went over and nudged the ball to th hole it had made in the fence. Chuckie pulled the ball out then gave his doggie a gigantic hug. He put the dirt back in the hole, grabbed his leashed doggie and the ball, and headed back to over where Tommy was waiting.

Tommy became so excited when he saw the ball and gave Chuckie a big hug. The two little boys and the dog started running – to the best of their abilities – back to their house. When they reached their houses Chuckie pushed Tommy in the grass and ran inside of his own house exclaiming to both his and Tommy’s parents that he had gotten the ball back all by himself! When the parents asked about Tommy, Chuckie told them that Tommy had been too afraid and decided that he would just wait in his front lawn until Chuckie returned. Both Tommy and Chuckie’s parents then praised Chuckie for being brave enough to go and get the ball back so that all of them would remain safe under its protection.

When Tommy finally got up off the grass he went inside Chuckie’s house and saw all of the parents praising Chuckie for his good deed and they were even giving him ice cream. Tommy went up to his mom and dad and they began scolding him for not being as brave as Chuckie and punished him by not allowing him to watch television or eat ice cream for a week.  

And that is how Tommy and Chuckie became enemies.

Pixar Ball (Pixar Wiki)

Authors Note. My retelling was based of the Chinese Fairy Tale, Why Dog and Cat are Enemies. In the story, the dog and the cat begin as best friends when something is stolen from their master they go on a journey to retrieve it, except the cat takes the item and reaches their masters house before the dog and is praised for being so brave to retrieve the stolen good while the dog is beaten and punished. And that is why they are now enemies. In my retelling I decided to keep the creation of enemies because everyone knows what is it like to have someone take credit for your good work, and teamwork in this case. 

Bibliography: The Chinese Fairy Book, ed. by R. Wilhelm and translated by Frederick H. Martens (1921).