Week 13 Story: The Princess and the Robe

Week 13 Story:

The Princess and the Robe

Author's Note: I decided to write my story over The Princess and the Pea, which is about a princess who slept on multiple mattresses and sheets and still could not stop feeling the pea underneath it all. It is something so small and hard to notice but significantly disrupts her comfort. I decided to write a story similar about a princess who is wearing many undergarments and coats but cannot stop feeling a loose thread on the inner-lining of her robe. I'm sure everyone has had a moment of wearing an item of clothing that has a tag that will itch or poke out annoyingly. So I hope this is relatable enough, while also staying similar to a fairytale aspect!

Once upon a time, there was a young prince who ventured far and wide in search of a princess to marry. For his princess needed to be kind of heart, fair of face, and beautiful of dress. Many women would approach him in attempts to pique his interest, but all had false intentions of wanting to marry into royalty instead of sharing royalty. These efforts disheartened the prince, leaving him to feel hopeless in his journey for love and completion.

One evening, there was a cyclone of wind building up near the prince's kingdom. Following the cyclone was rain falling in a sideways fashion, lightening skipping around the grassy and cobble terrain, and thunder booming above every roof and tower. No one dared to go outdoors until the devilish weather had ceased. Abruptly, the storm was broken for a moment by a knocking at the city gate. A member of the palace guard ran to open it, only to discover a princess standing alone.


How did a princess end up in this state? Alone, in a storm, seeking shelter in a kingdom, not of her own. The weather got the best of her, and left her in a horrendous state! Dripping from all limbs and
having her hair stuck to her face and neck, she continued to state that she was a royal and needed immediate care and shelter.

“I'm not so sure about her being a princess. Her presence here doesn't make any sense,” thought the old queen when the guard brought her in. But she did not say a peep and went into a guest bedroom to lay out warm clothes for their guest. When laying out all the garments, she decided to take the last overcoat and tear out one of the inner seems of thick cord. With that, she exited the room and allowed the princess to dress into about 8 layers of clothing for warmth and rest.

These were the garments that the princess had slept in all night. She had kept them on the following morning and was then asked how she had felt.

“Oh, I feel so horrible!” said she. “Stolen was my ability to close my eyes through the night. I tossed and turned and tried every position to make myself comfortable, only to be left unsatisfied. I even moved to the floor, thinking it was my bedding, only to continue to feel discomfort in the same way. Even now I cannot shake this pinching feeling. It’s awful!”

The old queen could now tell that she was a royalty because only a royal would know if beautiful silk clothing was not up to its standard. Even through all the layers she had to wear, she could feel the free cord that had been cut and left to dangle within.

Nobody but a real princess could be as sensitive as that.

They allowed the prince to meet with her and take her as his wife because there was no doubt that she was a real princess.

Image: The Princess from the Land of Porcelain (Wikipedia)
Bibliography:  The Princess and the Pea by Hans Christian Andersen, translated by H. P. Paull (Un-Textbook)

Week 11 Story: My Grandmother's Stories

Week 11 Story:

My Grandmother's Stories

Author's Notes: My story inspiration this week is from Iagoo, the Storyteller. This story is meant to introduce the character of Iagoo, as wise and wonderful storyteller. He has a way of winning the hearts of all those he comes across through his storytelling, specifically children. I wanted to follow a format similar by describing the amazing way someone could portray stories but with using a family member instead. This isn't particularly about my own grandmother but, this is just a general idea of a grandparent. Being idolized by her grandchildren for the way she tells them stories and does things for them. It will be told through the perspective of one of her grandchildren who is of a pretty decent age (maybe 17-24?) and recounting the moments they were invested in the tales their grandmother would tell to them.

My eyes never lit up as bright for anyone as they did for my Grandmother. My siblings and I never dismissed the ideas of any of the stories she wanted to tell. She seemed to know the mysteries that lurked in the forests, and could interpret the meanings from all creatures from land and sea. Her emotional understanding was only matched by her brilliant ability to captivate an audience even just by one sentence. All my life, I knew she had a strong connection to the outdoors, the spiritual ties to the world, and all the weird things you'd expect crazy old women to be passionate about. She never taught us to be prim and proper adults, but more so the fact that she taught us moral lessons that shaped who we are today.

Her favorite way to teach us was through storytelling. She had a vast variety of stories to tell and I honestly don't remember ever hearing the same one twice. She knew fairy tales from what seemed to be all regions, and had learned most of what she knows through her parents passing the stories down to her and generations of the same trend taking place. If there was on take away you could get from my grandmother, it was that the world was a mysterious and mystic place that was full of beauty advice if you ever desired it.

We all loved my grandmother. Every single one of us. It was like a floodgate would open when my parents announced that we'd go to visit for the weekend. I remember running to the car as soon as the doors opened and jumping around in my seat waiting until I could see even the roof of her home. She had this rug that sat out by a leather recliner that she loved to sit in. Around that rug sat myself and all of my siblings, eagerly waiting to see our grandmother. She would walk out with a tray of chocolate chip cookies that to this day, no one has been able to master the way she did it. It was like she had a magic spell on us because we almost lost all train of thought on anything else but her.

Visits to our grandmother's mostly occurred during the holiday season. Whether it was snowy glaze coating the cracked pavement or crisp orange leaves falling from the trees, she was always inspired to tell a tale. My favorite times were when we could bundle up in warm blankets and sip on hot cocoa while listening to fairy tales of heroes, princesses, magicians, and even pirates. I felt connected to all parts of the world when I got to hear stories from my grandmother. She never failed at rallying us up to her while giving my parents the break they definitely deserved.

Years have passed since I was able to meet with my grandmother for stories. As that time passed, she left us to float amongst the breeze by nature. She was free to swim with the dolphins and soar the skies with the eagles now. My heart still yearns to hear those stories once more, but I knew that I had to allow them to live on through me. I will pass down her legacy as a brilliant, wise storyteller who is loved by her family. I will instill deep relationships with the earth and sky to the people who give my tales a chance. To the people who are open to getting a feel for my grandmother, I wish for them to accept me with open arms and buckle up for a new insight on life.

Image: Grandma (Pixabay)
Bibliography: American Indian Fairy Tales by W.T. Larned, with illustrations by John Rae (Un-Textbook)

Week 9 Story: Treasure Cavern

Week 9 Story

Treasure Mountain

Author's notes: This story is based on The Golden Apple section of the Labor's of Yamato series in the Japanese Mythology section of the Un-Textbook. He is looking for a golden apple, which is a task assigned to him by a siren who is possessing his mind. When she gives him instructions on how to get to it, she does so in the form of a song. He is looking for this golden apple on the island of eternal life to please the woman he "loves" and gain her affection. I decided to make this story about treasures similar to the cavern of wonders from the Aladdin tale but focus on the song portion. I kept the rhyming scheme the same but made different verses for the song itself. My version involves a beggar who is desperate to gain riches and is granted a visit by an undefined character who will recite to him an ode that should help him locate the riches he seeks.

There was once a man who lived a bitter, dull life. Watching from the sidelines as his townsfolk walked the streets lavished in their earned riches. He was fated the dreads of poverty and envied those who fed on rich flavors the world had to offer; having only the vermin of life satisfied his hunger. He wanted more. Much more.

Among the streets always sat the rumors of Treasure Cavern. The myths and lore backed by the merchants and travelers who sold goods as well as stories upon their return. For the beggar had no glimmer nor silver-coated lining on life. He thought, “why not muster up the courage to see if the myths are fact?” So off he went. He searched high and low for more information about this Treasure Cavern, but fell short and lost motivation quickly. He had all but given up before he was greeted in the night by an unknown woman cloaked in crimson drabs encrusted in gold and ruby accents. Face hidden from all Earth-dwellers; carrying an ominous presence amongst her.

"Who are you," cried our wretched beggar.

"Is treasure not what you seek? Welcome my words to feed your hunger," stated the mysterious woman.

The beggar nodded. If one more word had escaped her veiled lips, tasteless foam would seep from his mouth like the ravenous dogs lurking the night.

"Listen," she hummed. A strong wind began to pick up, and her feet slowly lifted from the ground while her arms spread apart.

In the abandoned times of the gods and the mother,
Across the dusty deserts near the isle of Shikoku,
Heretofore dwelt a villainous mage, cruel of heart and stone of reason,
Whom was sought by the people, brewed devilish taboo.

The sage, greed consumed, collected gems upon detection,
Protesting leeches who thirst for generosity lest they scavenge themselves,
Curse upon curse he marked upon the rapacious making him grow tired and ill,
And twisted mind paid a visit to him as doth sinister elves:

“Hide thy treasure, neath the depths open to mortal steps
To a cavern molded of magic and magma of ethereal phenomenon,
House thine gold and silver and rubies and sapphires
So only magian conquest may enter and thus relieve thy vex.”


Reveled in the advice of foul impish creatures,
The mage embarked on crafting a chasm so deep even land would not convey its location,
For days and weeks and months he built through scorching sun and blazing winds,
Till the last bit of rubble had been placed amongst this magnificent formation.

This fortress then built on insanity and corrupted magic,
Left the mage stricken by deeper exertion than just physical ability,
He all but delivered his treasures to their crypt when he felt lifeless,
Only the motherland went to catch his fallen body coated by fragility.

Death was stronger than the envy that drove his mad actions,
And life's last response let the base of the cavern consume his force;
Emitting a brilliant glow along the walls that lined the mass,
Faintly visible to travelers who may walk above its source.

Below the hue of iridescence marked our Treasure Cavern,
Vastly haunted by the insanity and greed of its late creator;
To traverse one must be cunning, brave, the strength of mind flourished
Careful to chain sanity within, so that joy may peak from thy splendor.

As the last phrase was brought to life, the masked woman began to float backward and fade into the distance. Her disappearance led the wind to cease in violence. All was quiet and now undisturbed by the recent events to take place. After his breath regulated and the last drop of cold sweat slide down the base of his neck, the beggar stepped towards the door ready to locate the Treasure Cavern.

Image 1: Treasure gems (Pixabay)
Image 2: Golden treasures (Website)
Bibliography: Labors of Yamato: The Golden Apple by E. W. Champney and F. Champney (Un-Textbook)

Week 7 Story: The Girl Who Never Wanted to Age

Week 7 Story:

The Girl Who Never Wanted to Age

Author’s Note: This story was based off the of the Ozaki Unit from the Asain Fairytale section of the Un-Textbook. Specifically, form the story The Man Who Did Not Wish to Die. This story is about a man who fears death and begins to change his lifestyle. In the process of this change, he remembers a story of King who also did not wish to die. This King decided to find an elixir of eternal life, and on his journey to obtain this elixir, he is put in a situation where he gets what he wishes for, but it doesn’t turn out the way he had hoped. I wanted to make a change so that the story follows a child. I think that most kids go through wanting never to grow up and staying young forever. It’s to keep the type of storytelling method similar while also making it a bit more of a modern approach.



Once upon a time, there lived a young girl named Sophie. She loved to dance, sing, and play all day without responsibilities. She could run all the way to her clubhouse and hide out for the day with her own mental company. She could stay outside and make mud cakes in the leftover puddles from the rain with her family dog all afternoon. She was satisfied waking up and munching on cookies, chips, ice-cream, and any delectable junk food she could reach. Life to her was perfect. She never wanted her fun to end. One night, as her family has gathered for dinner, Sophie decides that she doesn’t want to eat the chicken and veggie platter that her mother had made for her.



“I don’t want this. I want cake instead!” Demanded Sophie.



“Sophie that’s enough. Finish your dinner, and then you can have dessert.” Said her mother.



“No. I won’t eat vegetables. I hate them!” Sophie said as she threw her plate from the table onto the floor.



“That’s it!” Exclaimed her mother. “To your room, now! You can go to bed without supper!”



“UGH! Adults are no fun!” Sophie screamed and ran to her room. Tears were streaming down her now rosy, flustered cheeks. “I never want to be like mommy. I want to eat sweet all day and play outside whenever I want and never have to brush my teeth!” After much pacing, crying, and diabolical scheming, Sophie had tired herself out and fall onto her bed to sleep.



Crash! A loud sound wakes Sophie from her slumber. Wiping away at her eyes, she tries to focus on what the sound was. Crash! The noise happened again. She leaps from her bed to slowly open the door and listen. It had been daybreak, and with the light shining into her house from the windows, she tried to look for who made the noise.



“Take that! And that! And this!” Said a voice from downstairs. As curiosity consumed her, Sophie ran down the stairs to find two young boys fighting each other with kitchen spatulas.



“Aha! I’ve got you now. Any last words?” The voice from before matched the voice coming from this boy.



“I surrender! Spare me!” Shouted the other boy.



“Who are you? Why are you in my house?” Yelled Sophie from a distance. “Your house? This house is everyone’s house. No one has their own house here.”



Sophie became puzzled. She looked around to see that all her family photos were gone. She searched for the rest of her home and to not her astonishment; her family was not in it. “Are you new here or something? Only adults have their own house, but there are no adults here. We can have any house we want!” Said the first boy.



Sophie takes a look out of one of the windows and notices all the children outside playing, running around, and doing all the things she loves to do herself. “There are no adults here? That’s impossible!”



“Well, it is here! Come on; we’re going to play outside!”



Sophie ran outside with her new friends and spent days eating all the junk she wanted to, continually playing outside with the other children, and going to bed whenever she wanted to. As the day went on, she noticed that she was not feeling too good. Her body had become sick from all the sweets Sophie had consumed. Her constant fun outside without any clean up had caused her to get infections in any of the scrapes she had earned running around. She had grown tired from avoiding sleep to play with everyone because she didn’t want to feel left out. Sophie’s health had taken a dramatic turn for the worse.



“Hey, Sophie! Want some cake?” Said one of the children.



“No, I don’t. I don’t feel good. Do you have carrots or crackers maybe?”



“Ew of course not! None of that can be found here silly. Here eat more cake!”



All the children started eating cake and trying to force Sophie to eat as well. The more they got her to eat, the sicker she became. She got so ill that she ended up vomiting up all of the forced cake and passing out on the floor.



A few hours had passed by when Sophie awoke to a soft knock at her door. She was in her bed after passing out on the floor with the other children. After a moment, you could see Sophie’s mother walk into the room. Sophie nearly leaped for joy when she saw her mother before her.



“Mommy! I’m so sorry! I want vegetables now please.” Sophie exclaimed as she ran to wrap her arms around her mother. Confused at the sudden change in behavior, her mother pushed the child back to her bed so that she could sit beside her.



“Sophie,” she said, “You cannot throw food onto the ground like that. What I make for you, I do because I want you always to be happy and healthy. You can’t be that way if you eat cake all of the time.”



“I know mommy. Trust me, I don’t think I’ll want to eat cake for a while” Sophie says as she grips her stomach. “I want to be healthy too. I won’t do that again.”



Sophie had learned during her dream that she might like what she usually does, but she knows that she may not want to do these things all of the time. To be a healthy kid, Sophie needs to develop a balance in fun and responsibility.

Image: Pinata Cake (Food Republic)
Bibliography: Japanese Fairy Tales by Yei Theodora Ozaki

Week 5 Story: The Meadow of Many Colors

Author Notes: This story is based on the Arabian Nights tale of Sultan and the Fish, which involves a fisherman who had given a series of colorful fish to the Sultan in exchange for riches. Upon discovering that these fish were not native to the area, curiosity strikes and he seeks to discover where they come from and why. He realizes that over time, these fish are actually people places under an enchantment by a wicked woman who lives in a castle nearby. One of the other enchanted beings she hits is her husband. My story is inspired by this with using flowers instead of fish being the people, as well as the king needing these flower for restoration and being lead by his curiosity to find the source of how these flowers conduct their magic. Please enjoy!

The Meadow of Many Colors

There once was a king who spent many nights praying to the gods of old and new. For his lovely wife had been stricken with an illness so cruel that he feared she would sleep and not make it to first light. He loved his queen dearly, just as she loved him. Her sickness had caused him to lie awake many nights. Over and over and over he’d talk with apothecaries, physicians, witch doctors; any being who had the possibilities of the right attributes to cure her. One day, he became so desperate that he sent word to all of his subjects that if they knew of a cure to come forth and he would shower them in riches.

Countless times members of his community would gather and speak so highly in their abilities just to gain treasures, yet every attempt had failed. Sorrow, despair, guilt. The king was washed in an anxiety as to why his beauty was chosen over him to bear such horror. In the peak of his wails, a veiled mistress enters his palace with a bed of vegetation in her wake.

“Sire,” she said, with a kneel and bowed head. “I wish to aid you in curing your queen’s illness. May I present to you the answers you pray upon.”

She proceeds to move the basket that holds her vegetation beds closer, revealing a magnificent array of flowers that glimmer as though direct sunlight still shined upon them. Each petal had it’s own brilliance, with mystic hues of blues and reds and yellows. For no flowers amongst the kingdom had been granted such splendor and awe like these at this moment.

“Why... how shall I use these fine beauties? Perhaps a sniff of their floral hands or a prick by their tough stalk?” The king was left curious but hopeful.

“A tea. Brew her a tea of these fine blooms and once warm to the touch, have her drink a whole cup in one go. Only then will she be cured.”

Image: Floral Tea (Pxhere)

The king ordered one of his kitchen staff to take the flowers and do as the mysterious woman requested. Tea brewed. Cup poured. The Queen brought in on a bed of fine silks and sturdy bamboo framing. With the temperature dropping to the adequate level as deemed by the kitchen hand, the queen drank until the very last drop had slid down her throat just as the few prior to. Within the next sunrise, she had been cured of all her ailments.

“Alas! My love has been restored. I thank you, woman, of unknown merit. I shall gift you what has been promised.” With this, the woman took her rewards and left; remaining with her were the other flowers that had not been used to make the necessary cup of life. With her absence, the king decided to have his garden workers discover the source of this bud’s healing properties and how to grow it for himself with what product he had left from the mysterious woman. What his workers came up with though was both alarming and disheartening.

“Oh, sire... This flower cannot be reproduced. It does not produce seeds. I don't even contain pollen. It’s just... here. I don’t know why and I cannot explain it, but this is no ordinary flower.”

“I don’t believe it. Witchcraft perhaps? Foreign vegetation? I need to know the source.” With this unsolved question, the king left with his best men to search high and low for the mysterious woman. Asking any townsfolk of her involvement or appearance nearby, yet always coming in shorthanded. “She must be here somewhere. Maybe on the outskirts?”

The king and his men decided then that they must look beyond the walls of the city since their luck had begun to fade within. Once out, they traveled far until reaching a familiar sight. Flowers. Beautiful flowers. Flowers with vivid auras so alluring that not even the horses being lead could leave their place after gazing on such a sight. "Here. We've done it, my friends. We've found them."

Image: Enchanted Forest (Web Source)

The sites before them were of the utmost beauty until they began to be filled with anxieties and fear like never before. Once they got closer it was as though an ominous horror had filled them. Swallowing in their sanity and coating their eyes with visions of people. People that were crying. Screaming. Cursing. Hyperventilating. These were not flowers grown from the very soul and soil that the earth had blessed upon the common, but morphism on creatures deemed sinful and unnecessary.
"My god.. these are not flora we should worship. This is flora of the devils on this earth. The evils this world wants to consume us in." The king tried to call out to his brethren only to look around and realize he had lost them amongst the cries and the bright glow.

"Oh, my king. Precious king" said a voice that had at the moment become second nature to recognize. The hooded woman had appeared again. Only this time with a sinister smile that was visible to the eyes, but nothing more. "Do you no longer yearn for my gift. My enchanted beauties you see before you? You wanted prosperity. Health. Sickness to dissipate. Life for life is what I have blessed onto you. They weren't worthy of the gift of life. Your ignorance pains me to believe that you also are fit to hold the same fate as thy before you. This enchantress may give you fuller purpose in that regard."

Image: Glowing Flowers (Wikimedia Common)

"No! No, you cannot do this. I only wanted to understand how this magic cured my beloved. I do not seek to disrespect your generosity!" The king pleaded and bowed; kissing the very feet of the witch herself. "Is it not curiosity that often causes the fall of the might?" stated the enchantress. Then with that, the fair king was changed. He now lies amongst the screaming, waiting for a wise one to one day vanquish the acts of this enchantress. Wishing that he had just lived on with his queen without mystery getting the better of him.




Bibliography:  The Arabian Nights' Entertainments by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (Un-Textbook)

Week 3 Story: The Queen Meets Diana

The Queen Meets Diana

The tale of a mother who believes her new daughter-in-law is unfit to wed her son

Young Diana was a peasant girl that often helped around her home village and took care of the tasks her parents could not accomplish due to their age. Her beauty was unmeasurable and her heart as pure as the finest gold. While tending to her parents flock one morn, she was greeted by a wandering prince who had left home due to an argument with his mother. He happened to stumble upon her acre on accident but was left captivated by her gentle heart and astonishing beauty. "My what a beauty. Not even  Pandora is necessary to drop more radiance on thee. How is one so mesmerizing left to tend to creatures so foul," said the prince. "For these are my parent's flock. I tend to them in hope of allowing my loved ones rest after such labor they choose to endure day by day," stated Diana. "A kind nature such as yours only intensifies your lovely aura. I do not think I can leave the likes of you," said the prince as he ogled Diana with passionate eyes.

For days, the prince would come by in secret to visit and talk with Diana. As time went on, their attraction to one another grew to new heights. Love taking over, they decide to wed in secret. "My mother would not approve of you my dear. She refuses to live with competition for the admiration of the people. She would not dare sully her lineage with the likes of those unroyal. My love for you is so strong that I wouldn't be able to go on if I don't have your hand. Please stay with me in secret forever," exclaimed the prince. So moved by his words, Diana agreed regardless of the fact that she could not be public with her new husband.

Months later, the queen happened to find out about her son's rendezvous outside of the palace with a peasant girl named Diana. She was furious to hear of such a secret being kept from her. When spies would return to deliver details of their encounters, most would recount her beauty and kindness in a way that felt hypnotized. Feeling challenged to maintain her reputable image amongst the people, the queen sought to find the girl and knock her down a few notches. After searching and kidnapping, the guards of the queen brought in Diana for questioning.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my new daughter-in-law. A herd girl without even a cent to her name. Mommy is so very proud," says the queen with a wicked, almost crazy look in her eyes. "Why haven't you journeyed to meet your new mom? Was he ashamed of you? Did he know you weren't worthy? Shall I make you worthy?" All of a sudden guards brought in large heaps of grains both brown and white. These heaps so tall that poor Diana could not see over them. "You want to show your worth field rat? Sort these grains into separate piles of brown and white. You have until nightfall. If such a task if not completed for your new mother-in-law, oh the consequences you'll face." With that, the queen laughed and disappeared beyond doors that lead into the room.

Tears fell Diana's face. While this torment was set to happen, the prince had already made way to meet with his dear wife for the day only to realize she had gone missing. Panic and distress had captured both the young lovers.

Diana began sorting, despite the overwhelming amount of the grains she had been given. Seeing such determination and will so that she may reach her husband once more, small birds flew in from the windows and began to gather to her feet. It wasn't until about 50 birds had appeared until once walked forward and spoke to her. "We sympathize for you sweet girl. Your heart is pure and your plite is so treacherous. Allow us to help you. Please let us assist." The army of birds started to sort with her, decreasing the heap immensely and finishing the task before nightfall. The queen returns hopefully for failure but, is greeted by the success that puts a sour taste in her mouth.

"Well - I'm shocked. I don't believe that you were able to complete this within the hours given. What magic is at your disposal? You can't be serious!" The queen becomes frantic and after some time in this state her son appears at the door. "Diana!" he screams. Rushing in to grab his bride, he retorts to his mother saying that he must access his new partner regardless of her status. That he will not leave her even if he is stripped of all his royalties. Defeat came about the queen's eyes, but with her reluctant acceptance came new found ideas for torment of the girl she would call daughter.

Author's Notes: This story was inspired by an excerpt from the Golden Ass, which accounts for the tale of Cupid and Psyche. Psyche is a young girl whose beauty defies even the Goddess of Beauty, Venus. So upset from the people ignoring her because Psyche is so beautiful, Venus decided to have her son Cupid put her in an unhappy situation. Cupid and Psyche eventually fall in love and hide their matrimony from Venus. Venus discovers their secret wed and hunts down Psyche to torture her and cause her great anxiety and distress. The first task that Psyche is given is to sort out out a large mountain mix of grains and nuts into their own heaps. She is helped in the end by ants but the queen has many more tasks up her sleeve to try and cause Psyche tragedy. 

Author Bibliography: The Golden Ass wrote by Apuleius and translated by Tony Kline Un-Textbook

Image: A little help from the birds (Wikimedia Commons)

Week 2 Story: A Hare’s Fear and an Owl’s Answer

A Hare’s Fear and an Owl’s Answer

One day, a hare was hopping along enjoying the breeze of the late-noon when he heard a thrashing sound.

Pound. Pound. Thud. Growl.

The hare was so curious as to where these sounds were coming from that he decided to tread lightly in the direction of it. After some time, he reached a clearing where he saw a grizzly bear that had been locked up in a cage.

“You there! Rabbit! Oh please, please release me from this torment. It was poachers you see — Horrible poachers they were!” the bear exclaimed.

With hesitation, the hare hopped up to the cage and said: “Why how long have you been locked away in this cage?”

“For weeks. Weeks that feel just as eons would. Freedom has escaped me so.” sobbed the bear.

Now the hare, feeling nervous at this moment started to step away from the cage. With each small step, the bear’s face began to twist with confusion, “You’re not going to leave me like this are you?”

“If you’ve been in there for weeks, you must...”

“I must what?” interrupted the bear.

Gulp. “Then you must be hungry now. I am but a small hare and you are a large bear. You could swallow me in one go if you had a mind to.”

“My dear rabbit. I would not dare touch a single hair on you. I just want freedom, I promise. Please let me out.”

Feeling the pity over the bear wash him down with guilt, the hare decided to release him from his holdings by jumping so high that he can reach the right ropes to chew through. After a few moments, the bear was free from the cage.

The bear leaped. Growled the mightiest of growls. Then turned to face the hare with a wicked smile and crooked head.

“It looks as though you’ve put your trust into the wrong person. Now that you mention it, I am rather hungry.” The bear begins to ogle the hare, slowly prodding in his direction.

“Oh no. No please! You promised me! Oh, let me live Mr. Bear please oh please!” The hare panicked and plead but the bear continued to move towards him. “Allow me to question why the world has fated me so.”

The bear decided to humor the hare. “Well go on. Ask the world how you got here. I haven’t got all day.”

The hare paused, then looked up to the skies. “Oh world, surely you can help me understand why I’ve been destined to end my lines here.”

“Um sorry — I actually don’t understand you see.” stated by a voice not visible to the area.

“Who was that?” exclaimed the bear.

“Oh, my apologies. I am Hugo the owl. I just caught the end of this peculiar situation. Would you mind breaking it down for me once more? I would love to give you an answer to your fate if I am able.”

So the hare begins to explain his situation to the owl but, no matter the storytelling method chosen the owl does not understand. He tells him one thing, but he’ll think the opposite and fall into a great frustration.

Finally, the bear becomes so agitated for waiting to feast that he intrudes on the explanation. “My goodness owl it is not that difficult to grasp! What are you not getting?”

“How was it that you were in this cage. It seems far too small to hold such a beast like you.”

The Bear follows the trail leading to the cage and re-enters his holdings to prove to the owl how he was able to fit into the cage.

“Now I see it. Perfect!” Said the owl as he closes the cage door and ties it shut with one of his feathers. "You do fit better than I expected in this cage."

For at this moment the hare felt so lucky. The owl may not have given him the answer he wanted, but he gave him the solutions he needed.

Author's notes: This story was a recreation of the fun trickster's tale Tiger, Brahman, and Jackal. My twist on the story does involve a species flip, as well as more dialogue at the beginning between the captive and the savior. I wanted more emphasis on playing up the deceit of the bear by having his character show more through his words. I also wanted the owl to not seem as confused as the jackal did in the original tale, but more or less just trying to help the hare by being his own version of "efficient."

Bibliography: "Tiger, Brahman, and Jackel" from Indian Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs. Web Source with Bear and friends image from Wikimedia Commons