Storytelling Week 14: The Leshy and the Soldier

Alexei was returning home from his time as a soldier to see his family for a brief time. As he traveled to his people, he remembered an old man whom he had befriended that lived nearby. So Alexei detoured to the old man's house. When he arrived, he found the man to be alone. Alexei thought this odd as the man had a wife and a daughter and many servants last Alexei saw him. This old man was lavishly wealthy, but still Alexei found him to be all by himself. When Alexei asked about it, the old man told him that his daughter vanished away three years ago, and his wife had died of a broken heart. The old man scarce himself believed he would live to see the coming winter, for his sorrow was so much he wished to die. 

Alexei comforted his friend, and told him that by the grace of God, one day he would return the old man's daughter. After sharing a meal and staying the night, Alexei venture out once more. He walked by a silently running stream with water that seemed still as it flowed. By the stream, he happened upon a strange creature carving a small statue. It had appeared human, as like a child, but with silver hair of an elder. Alexei silently thought of this oddity as he approached. The being ceased its whittling, and replied as if Alexei had spoken out loud, "Why shan't I have grey hair, for I am old indeed. I'm the man of the pines!"

Alexei became very frightened by this and asked, "What riddle is this?"

The creature sprung to his feet, and jumped behind a tree. Suddenly, he was behind Alexei and said with a chuckle, "Riddle? That is no riddle! It is I, the Leshy of the woods! I was born from the pine and from the pine is where I came. But should you want a riddle, of those I am no short supply."

"Why would I challenge you?" Alexei asked nervously as he spun to meet the creature's gaze. "I have heard the stories of you. Leading travelers astray and stealing children. I should have no dealings with devils!"

The Leshy again vanished and reappeared across the way. "Oh, I shall give thee a prize should you win. The daughter of the old man. She had been my betrothed for some time, but refuses to wed me. should you solve my riddles, she may be yours."

As he said this, he snapped his fingers and there appeared the young woman. Her face was pale and cold. She seemed like one who was dead yet she stood. Alexei saw that she was quite beautiful even in her dreadful state. Alexei puzzled for a moment. He spoke, "And what shall become of me should I fail your challenge?"

The Leshy began to laugh and bounce about, and he said, "Then I'll take you home and share you with the Chort. I will eat your flesh, and he will devour your soul!"

Alexei wished to flee, but he had given his word to bring his friend's daughter to safety. He agreed to the challenge.

The Leshy's face twisted into a vile grin as he muttered the words of his riddle, "I die every season, yet time makes me stronger. What am I?"

Alexei looked about, it took him only a moment to know the answer. He said with great confidence, "The answer is simple. A tree!"

The Leshy was unfazed and began his second riddle as he vanished into the trees. His voice echoed through the wood, "Your turn. Speak your riddle."

"What is it that belongs to you, but others use it more?" Alexei asked.

The wind blew through the trees as the Leshy thought. "Hm," he said at last, "Your name, Alexei."

He laughed a grim laugh and began his riddle. "To all things and men I appertain, and yet by some am shunned and disdained. Fondle me and ogle me til you’re insane, but no blow can harm me, cause me pain. Children delight in me, elders take fright. Fair maids rejoice and spin. Cry and I weep, yawn and I sleep. Smile, and I too shall grin. Come find me.”

Alexei puzzled at this. He looked about hoping to see a clue. Frantically he ran about, as the Leshy's laughter grew louder and darker. "The Chort and I will be quite pleased!" The Leshy teased.

Suddenly the answer came to Alexei. A reflection! He pulled out a small mirror he had in his bag, but it shattered! The Leshy was cheating. But then he remembered the stream! He ran over and looked deep into it. There he saw the Leshy hiding in the water. He grabbed him and threw him to the ground.

"Enough of these games! What begins and has no end? What is the ending of all that begins?"

Alexei knew he would stump the demon with this one. For as a man, Alexei knew the answer. Death. But because the Leshy is immortal, neither living nor dead, it knew not the answer. It became angry and transformed its shape into a frightful image. Alexei drew his sword to fight it. As he advanced to stab it, the Leshy hit him with its monstrous claw and sent him tumbling down. His sword flew from his hand. The horror turned to him and slowly advanced. But before it could end him, Alexei's sword poked through its neck. Alexei saw behind it that the daughter had awoken and stabbed the Leshy. It flailed and swung at her, but she ducked away. Alexei took the opportunity to jump up and grab the hilt of his sword still protruding from the demon's neck. With all his might he ripped the sword to the side and the Leshy's head came clean off. The body fell to the ground and sank into the dirt. The body was destroyed and the soul sent back to the pines.

Alexei returned the girl to her father, and later married her. For the rest of their days, they lived at peace and prayed the lord protect them from the evil forest spirits.

Author's Note: The original story was about a hunter going out and finding the Leshy in the woods and shooting it dead. Afterwards he found a woman it held captive and returned her to her family. I modified that story, so that Alexei was a returning soldier. I also drew out the scene between him and the Leshy, adding the riddles. In Russian folklore, Leshy are forest gods or demons (depending on who you ask) that go about kidnapping people and feeding them to the Chort (another demon). I wanted my Leshy to convey a more devilish behavior, offering a prize for playing a game of wits, only to cheat in the end.

Image: a picture of a Leshy, by P. Dobrinin. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Source: Russian Fairy Tales by W. R. S. Ralston (1887).

Reading Notes: Russia, Part B

The Soldier and the Vampire-

Stories, like this one, with strange rituals and ways of killing supernatural beings always appeal to me. I really like how the soldier is practically a nobody, just a really brave guy. I'm not sure how I could retell the story though. Perhaps I could tell it from the warlock's perspective as he interacts with the soldier, and have his inner dialogue being very prideful and cocky. That is until his undoing at the end.

The Two Corpses-

This story reminds me of Tolkien's "The Hobbit" when the trolls spend too much time arguing about how they will eat The dwarves and get turned to stone. I wonder if he got some inspiration from this tale. I could make this story quite a fun one. The corpse, for being warlocks, seem to be pretty absent minded. And I'd like to expand on their dialogue a bit.

Image: The only way to kill the warlock is burning his body on a pyre. Source: Pixabay

Source: Russian Fairy Tales by W. R. S. Ralston (1887).

Reading Note: Russia, Part A

The Leshy-

I really like monster stories in folklore. The Leshy is one that I find interesting due to its role in many European stories. And once again, I'm a fan of the hero rescuing the damsel. I may throw in a twist where the Leshy survives the first encounter and comes back to kill the hunter. Only by working as a team can the two kill the monster. I do like the Stockholm syndrome idea of the original though, so I'll have to weigh the possibilities.

The Dead Mother-

This story makes me sad. I do like the idea of a ghostly mother sticking around to take her child with her. I may retell the story with some kind of protagonist that would interrupt the actions of the original events and maybe save the child in some way.

Image: Photo of a ghostly woman (1889); Source: Flickr

Source: Russian Fairy Tales by W. R. S. Ralston (1887).

Storytelling Week 13: The Witches' Return

Mary stepped her foot out of her car and felt a chill in the air. As she exited her taxi, she observed the manor she had recently inherited. Only a few months ago, she was struggling to pay rent for a one person apartment in South Chicago. Now she was standing at the threshold of her late aunt's estate in Northern Ireland just a few miles West of Belfast. She had never known her aunt Shelly, in fact she knew very little of her family at all. When Mary was a child, her parents had both drowned in a flood while she was safely at a baby sitter's house. Her godparents told her what they knew about her parents, but even they weren't very knowledgeable about her father's estranged sister. The news of her death was sad, but more so exciting for Mary as she was the sole remaining member of her family. Which meant she inherited all the wealth and estates of aunt Shelly.
The taxi drove away after Mary had payed the driver, but Mary felt as though she wasn't alone. She spun around hoping to catch the eyes she could feel burning their gaze into the back of her skull, but all she saw was an old well at the edge of the fence. Something drew her to this well, like one is drawn to edge of a cliff to take a peek at the bottom. The stones were crumbled and worn. A great big wooden lid was secured on top of the opening. Weeds had grown long around it, and vines inched their way up the cracks between the stones. Mary heard a small voice call her name. It sounded as though it was coming from the well. She thought at first that it was the wind, but again she heard it call her. She cautiously pushed the lid off with no small amount of straining. The darkness below felt as though it crawled up and out as Mary gazed into the well. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Mary let out a cry as she turned to see who stood behind her. It was a young man, with stubble on his chin and soft green eyes. He spoke with an Irish accent, "My apologies, miss! It wasn't my intention to frighten you."
Mary reeled back to catch her breath which she didn't realize she had been holding. "No, it's fine. I am just being jumpy. I'm sorry, who are you?" she asked politely.
"My name's John, though people round here call me Pip. I'm the grounds keeper for Miss Shelly's estate. Who are you?" he replied with a reciprocated politeness.
Mary relaxed at this, and smiled. "I'm Shelly's Niece. I was told I inherited this place from her."
"Ah, yes. Miss Mary. I thought you looked like her, with that red hair and sharp blue eyes! In fact your the spitting image of Miss Shelly when she was a young fair lass."
Mary blushed and replied, "Thank you, sir. I'll have to keep you around if you keep talking like that."
"I didn't know there was chance you wouldn't keep me around," Pip said surprised, "I've been here most of my life. Since I was a lad, Miss Shelly let me work for her."
"I'm sorry, Pip. I was only joking. Will you not give me a tour?" Mary asked.
Pip's face lit up with a smile, "Of course, Ma'am. Right this way!"
Pip led her through the main house where aunt Shelly lived. He told her that the house is well over 400 years old, though it had been renovated and expanded in the previous century. In the living room there was a great fireplace with two arm chairs facing toward it. In the back of the room was an antique table with twelve chairs sat around it. Mary thought it odd, since her aunt was known as a bit of a recluse, according to Pip. The rest of the house was well furnished and decorated with all kinds of Celtic artwork. After the tour, Pip retired to the secondary house that was a stone's throw from the main house.
Mary was left to herself in her new home. She lit the fireplace and sat down with a cup of tea in one of the arm chairs. Darkness soon fell on the estate. As she relaxed she felt a great weriness come over her. Mary attributed it to jet lag. When she about to nod off, she noticed a book on the side table beside the armchair. Curiously, she thumbed through the pages. It was her aunt's journal by the look of it. She knew she shouldn't read it, but she wanted to know her aunt's final thoughts before she died. Mary flipped to the final page that had writing on it. it read:

"Again the knocking has started. Open up, Open up, they said. I had no choice. The horns. One horn, two horn, three horn... twelves horns. Every night. Eating blood cake. Pippy can't help. I heard them talk about the well. and the mantle. I need the mantle. Pip threw it in the well, I saw him. I need to go get it or they will eat my blood for the rest of my life!"

Mary was regretful that she had read the book. Pip said her aunt spoke of strange women in the night and went on about some mantle, but they were just the ramblings of a old lonely woman. It made her sad that her aunt suffered so. She also remembered how Shelly died. Mary was told back in the States that Shelly had drowned. Could she have fallen in the well? These thoughts were worrisome, but not enough to keep the exhausted Mary from closing her eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.
                                                                               ...
Mary awoke to a loud knocking on the door. She put on her robe and walked all the way downstairs to the front door. Thinking it was Pip needing something, she opened the door. A woman with a horn growing from her head stepped in. She thanked Mary and walked over the the table with twelve seats. Mary wanted to protest, but she felt her mouth closed shut. Soon another knock came, and she was compelled to walk over and open it. A woman with two horns on her head entered and sat at the table. This continued again and again. Each time the number of horns grew until the twelfth woman entered with twelve gnarled horns. They began chanting and cutting themselves with knives. Mary watched horrified. The monstrous woman commanded her to make them a cake, and she obeyed. After that, they commanded her to bring them water. She went to the faucet in the kitchen, but no water came out. When she told them this, they hissed and cursed at her. She was thrown against the wall by a tremendous force. They sent Mary to get water from Pip's house. The witches were also very clear that she should not get near the well, or she would meet the same fate as the rest of her family.
Once outside, Mary felt autonomy again and fell to the ground weeping. Whatever was in her house, was there to stay. She went to Pip's house and went to the faucet. Still no water. Mary screamed in frustration and fear. What would they do to her if she again brought back no water? She went to awaken Pip, but he wouldn't stir. She noticed he had slices on his wrists that she hadn't noticed earlier, and his face was pale. Fearing that Pip was dead and that the witches would do the same to her, she hurried to the well to draw some water. That's when she heard the voice. A small whisper coming from the well. It beckoned to her. Then she remembered aunt Shelly's desire to get some mantle from the well. Mary figured if the witches were afraid of it, it only made since they'd warn her from going near the well. After what felt like an eternity, Mary climbed in and down. The water on the bottom was cold and the light of the moon was barely visible from down there. Mary shivered at the thought of her poor aunt drowning down there. Then she felt some kind of fabric floating in the water. The mantle! She wrapped it around her and tried to climb out. At first she struggled, but then a small force helped her out. "Go," a voice whispered, "I will help thee. Call forth the fire of old. For they hath avoided it far too long. Hell licks its lips for their taste."
Mary ran back into the house holding the veil in her hand. When the witches saw her enter the living room, they commanded her to stop. Instead, Mary took the veil and shouted, "Fire I call you! Take what is yours!" and she threw the mantle into the fire place. The witches screamed and the house shook violently. The twelve woman began to flee for the door, but it would not open. "Open up! Open up door!"
As they scratched and pleaded, the fireplace's flame grew and became like a great arm. It grabbed each one and pulled them in its heart. The screaming continued, but grew distant. Soon Mary was alone in the house. She went and sat down on the armchair and fell asleep. Mary woke up to Pip opening the curtains letting light flow through the room. She could smell the breakfast Pip had prepared for her in the kitchen. He prodded her to get up and eat, there was a lot of work to do as far as paper work went. Just a dream, Mary thought to herself as she got up to walk to the kitchen. Then she noticed something in the fire place. A small piece of fabric, black and burnt. She looked out the window, and saw the well, the lid slid off and placed beside it. Mary went to eat breakfast with Pip.

Author's Note: This is by far the longest story I've written yet. I really like horror stories, so I wanted to get the details in. This story is based on the tale of the horned women, in which an Irish wife and her family are plagued by witches forcing their way into the families home. In the original story, a spirit in a well instructs the woman on how to fool the witches to flee and she gains one of their mantles in the process. The story ends saying that the mantle protected the family for 500 years. I wanted to continue the story to the newest generation in which the witches are able to return and wreck havoc again. This time however, Mary is able to end their evil actions once and for all. I also made the ending purposefully unresolved as to whether she was dreaming or if all that actually happened.

Image: (First image)Creepy looking well posted by Alex Santosa; Source: Flickr
(Second image)An old well posted on Pixabay; Source: Pixabay

Source:Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1892).

Reading Notes: Celtic fairy tales, Part B

The Tale of Ivan-

This is a fun story with one great ending. I'm a big fan of when the main characters of a story aren't mauled to pieces or killed in some gruesome way for their foolishness, but instead act rightly and are rewarded. So this story really resonates when me. I'd like to retell it maybe from maybe a modern perspective, with differing situations from the original in that the advise would pertain to the world today.

Image: 14th century travelling man; Source: Wikimedia
Source:Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1892).

Reading Notes: Celtic Tales, Part A

The Horned Women-

I think this story has a lot of potential for a sequel, in which the descendants of the woman that fought off the witches needs help from the spirit of the well again. I'm thinking the mantle that protected the family is broken or sold and it allows the witches to return in full force to plague the descendants. It could be a very creepy story, like the original, but set in modern Ireland. Seems like it could be fun it write.

A coven of witches performing unholy rituals. Hans Baldung (1508); Source

Source: Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs with illustrations by John D. Batten (1892).

Week 12 Storytelling: Arthur Avenges Merlin

Arthur sat alone in the great hall. The round table was cleaned and polished, as the feast had been over for hours, and all the knights retired to their beds. The king noted the wind breezing through the vast room, occasionally biting at his ears. The fire by which he sat staved off the chill, though. It was not as big as it had been only hours before, there was but two logs melting away inside. The shadows danced around the room like performers, delivering a private show for Arthur. This was the first calm moment he had to himself in many days, perhaps even weeks. Before all this kingly business, he thought to himself, I scarce could get a passerby to look at me. He snickered as he considered the boy he once was, and the man that he had fought so hard to become.

Then the doors to the hall opened, and a gust of wind came through, blowing out many of the candles and swerving the fire from side to side. Arthur turned and saw a servant of his approaching with something in his hands. The item looked familiar.

"My lord the king," the servant addressed Arthur as he bowed low, "I have grim tidings for his majesty."

Arthur could've guessed it from the man's demeanor. He stood with his head bowed and eyes on the ground. He extended his hands and produced the item he carried. It was a pendent, in the shape of a swallow, made of pure gold. Arthur new what this meant. For he had such a pendant made special for his friend and mentor, the wizard named Merlin. Arthur took the pendant and felt such a sadness overcome him the likes of which he'd never known.

"How did it come to be?" Arthur asked softly.

"Some commoners found him under a stone. he had been trapped for some time, as the decay had already begin to set in. This was there as well."

The servant reached into his bag and produced a small parchment. Arthur took it as well and read the writing upon it.

It was Vivien

                                                                        ...

Several weeks had passed and Arthur sat once more in the hall. This time several of his knights accompanied him as they ate and told their stories of valor. Then a squire approached with a scroll and delivered it to Arthur's hand. Later, in his chambers, Arthur read the missive. It gave information on the whereabouts of the sorceress Vivien. For when he learned of Merlin's death at her hands, all his sorrow turned to rage and he sent out many servants and knights to track her down. Now was his chance to bring her to justice. For she murdered his friend.

Arthur set out with only his horse and his sword Excalibur. He rode for a day and then another. Then he reached a small hamlet that bordered a swamp. There the people warned him of the witch that had taken the swamp as her abode. Arthur feared not. For the Lord was with him. He left his horse with the villagers and ventured into the swamp on foot.

It felt as though he was being strangled as the air was nigh unbreathable, and smelt of rot. He knew it to be an enchantment Vivien had set. For he knew of her skill, as she had been a student of Merlin himself. Arthur's blood boiled as he thought of her betrayal. Merlin trusted and loved her more than any. He taught her all his ways. She killed him when she no longer needed him. Vivien must die, he thought.

"Why have you come, Arthur Pendragon?" a voice rang out from the dark tangled branches.

"To seek revenge for one I loved. Perhaps you know of him. His name was Merlin!" Arthur shouted with what breath he could muster.

A taunting laughter came from the woods as a woman appeared before him. She was slender and beautiful. Her long black hair hang down to the small of her back. There was no mistaking the witch called Vivien. She spoke, "He was an old man who was soon to die anyway. The fool annoyed me with his constant advances. I had learned enough from him, so I shut him away. Had he been as wise as he claims, he would've seen it coming. Now go, before I reunite you to him."

"You have confessed your guilt to me, "Arthur declared as he drew his sword. "I sentence you to death!"

At this Arthur lunged forward, but hit only air as the witch vanished before him. He turned only for his cheek to meet her clawed hand. He stumbled backward, pawing at his wound and slashing Excalibur at her. She pounced of him and set him supine in the mud. He scrambled to his feet pointing the sword tip at her. He lunged again to impale her, but she glided out of his way and sent her elbow into his forehead. Blood leaked from his wound as Arthur struggled to breath. Her super human dance became difficult to track as his vision became obscured by the blood. Then she was gone again. Arthur turned and once again met her strike. This time he was ready. He caught her hand mid swing and sliced at her. His blade married the flesh of her stomach, creating a painful wound. She screamed and stepped back.

Now the air was thickening and Arthur was gasping for air. He fell to his knees. As his sight was growing dark, he looked up and saw Vivien, now shape-shifted into an crow, trying to fly away. He brandished Excalibur and threw it straight at the witch. The blade found its mark, and the crow came tumbling down. Vivien transformed back into her human form before she hit the ground. The air immediately began to clear up. Arthur lumbered toward her as he regained his breath. He saw Vivien laying motionless on the ground. The blade stood erect as it had so many years ago. Only this time, instead of the stone, it was in the heart of Merlin's murderer. Arthur wiped away the blood from his brow and retrieved his sword.

The witch lay dead, and Merlin had been avenged.

Merlin and Vivien by Alfred Tennyson; Source: Wikimedia Commons

Author's Note: This story is the continuation of the story of the Passing of Merlin. In it, Merlin is tricked into wandering into a tomb by his pupil and romantic interest Vivien, who then traps him with a stone. The story ends with her merrily wandering off. I wanted to tell the story of Arthur's reaction and quest for vengeance after learning of his friends death. I am aware that in some versions of the Arthur saga that Vivien is actually the Lady of the Lake that give Arthur the sword, but for the sake of my story I made her to be more of an evil witch.

Source: King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1902).

Reading Notes: King Arthur, Part B

The Adventures of Sir Percivale-

I'd like to go into great detail of the battle between the lion and the serpent, and of course sir Percivale stepping in to the battle as well. I could start the story right after Percivle's horse revealed itself to be a demon and threw him off. Then he could wander tirelessly until he happened upon the battle. And, of course, the serpent will be a dragon like creature because I'm a nerd that likes knights fighting dragons.

The Temptation of Sir Percival by Arthur Hacker; Source: Wikimedia Commons

Source: Source: King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1902).

Reading Notes: King Arthur, Part A

The Passing of Merlin-

I wouldn't necessarily retell this story, but I want to continue it. I want to explore Arthur's reaction and how he goes about dealing with losing his mentor and friend. Also, maybe write about what he does to avenge him. I didn't see anything else about her and her fate. I feel like writing a story about Arthur searching out for the evil witch that killed Merlin and fighting her magic could be a fun adventure to go on.

Merlin and Nimue from Le Morte d'Arthur; Source: Flickr

Source: King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1902).

Week 11 Storytelling: The Great Flood and the Valley of Death

Once upon a time, there was a man that lived in a small house with his wife and children, as well as his brother and his family. He and his brother hunted across the fields in the day, and their wives would cook what they brought back for their families. One day, as the man was washing his face in a nearby river, a dog came to him. "Shoo, mutt! We have no room for you in my household!" he shouted to scare the dog away.

The dog remained unmoved. The man stood up and walked away, as the dog's stare was troubling him. The next day, after a long day of hunting, he returned to the river to fetch some water for his wife. There, again the dog appeared, a observed him closely. This happened every day for a week. Finally the man threw his hands up and said, "What? What is it you want from me, hound?"

"I am no hound."

The man looked about him, as the voice was not in his ears, but within his head. "What are you? A spirit? A ghost come to take me away?" he asked frantically.

"Nay," said the voice, "I am neither of those. I am a messenger. You must build a boat, for a great storm is coming that will wash away the world. You and your family will survive, but only if you do as I say."

So everyday after, the man would go to the river, where materials for building could be found. The dog would watch him daily. One day, as he was building, he ran out of twine to tie together some beams. He ventured home to find his brother and ask to borrow some. His brother, who did not approve of his foolish endeavors, told him to scavenge some twine from the valley. But as the man began that way, the dog appeared and warned him, "You must sleep now, for you have done all that needed to be done today. Rest now, for the valley holds nothing but death." He was confused by this, but followed the advise and went home.

Soon enough, the great raft was finished, though all the people in the surrounding area mocked him, for they had not seen the dog. Not even a day after the raft's completion, rain began to fall. The people hunkered under their roofs, as water was not known to fall in those days but come from the ground. The man and his family boarded the boat, but his headstrong brother refused. His brother told him that he would seek shelter in the valley where the his house was. As soon as he left, the water began to rise from the river, and the boat took off. There were many animals that had taken shelter on the boat as well, for the dog had given the man instructions for a boat that could fit them all. The sun did not shine on the Earth for many days, as it was perpetually raining. After some time, even the mountains were drowned by the deluge.

Then one day, the sun appeared from behind the clouds and the water began to recede. Some time after that, the man and his family and all the animal passengers walked on wet, muddy ground. The man thanked the Creator for bringing his family out of the flood alive.

Some days later, as he was walking the new earth, he heard the sounds of a dance. Surely, he thought, there cannot be anyone left after that flood! So he followed the sound which lead him to a valley. Looking down, he saw bones. Countless bones. Strewn across the entirety of the valley. He heard his brother calling him to join their dance. That is when he finally understood the dog's warning about the valley. He went home to his family, and began rebuilding the world.

Author's Note: The original story was more brief in that the man finds the dog which tells him to build a raft, he and his family jump on, it floods, then he has the experience of seeing the bones in the valley. I wanted to blend a little more detail into my retelling. I also borrowed elements from the Biblical story about Noah and his actions during the flood, as I'm tempted to say both the stories had the same source.

Source:Myths of the Cherokee by James Mooney (1900).

Image: The Valley of Dry Bones (1873); Source: Wikimedia Commons

Week 11 Reading Notes: Myths of the Cherokee, Part B

The Red Man and the Uktena-

This could be a fun story to continue were it ends. I could write a story where, years after the events of the original, the hunter who received the medicine could pass it down to his son, explaining how he got it and to remember to respect the spirits that made it. 

The Bullfrog Lover-

These are strange stories, but I'd like to maybe retell the first one in the set. I could focus more on the young man and how he formulates his plan to trick the old woman into letting him marry her daughter. He would be fun to write for, as he seems like a clever one, using the womans superstition as a catalyst for his endeavors. 

A Bullfrog sketch by Pearson Scott Foresman; Source: Wikimedia Commons

Source: Myths of the Cherokee by James Mooney (1900).