BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: mactheturk
Date: 10 Aug 00 - 05:48 AM

I am interested in finding out what led up to my little narrative. I would also like to hear what happens next, if possible.

I worry about Frank.

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: mactheturk
Date: 10 Aug 00 - 05:41 AM

Frank returned to the forest at daybreak, as promised. "I should have dressed warmer" he thought, especially this morning. As he approached his brothers cabin he paused to look out across the lake. "How many summers ago?" he wondered......

Time went flat. His gaze anchored to that place, somewhere forgotten but now exposed. Reaching, beyond this distant mist, now downward below the still surface of his memory. Deeper yet, he recalled what was once found but set aside, filed away in the liquid darkness of his fear. At the murky bottom of that fear an answer lurked, a staircase with a door.....

The smell of smoke brought him back. The cabin was awake now, the windiows lit, grey spiral rising from the chimney.

He continued now, slowly, up the stairs and onto the porch. Looking back, toward the water, a single migratory bird flew above, it's path so neatly directed, perhaps by some ancient genetic program, through morning light, a primal quirk, headed south to sunny fields beyond Farmington, at least beyond here. "How convienient", Frank thought, as he turned, lifted the latch and entered the cabin....

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Ebbie
Date: 10 Aug 00 - 02:08 AM

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 09 Aug 00 - 02:03 AM

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Mikal
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 11:42 PM

Oops! Sorry folks, the computer told me it didn't contact the list last itme, and a stupid mistake of mine sent it twice...

See! That's why they only let me play bodhran!

Mikal

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: lloyd61
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 09:04 PM

This was an email from my youngest, Maia, the little mother:

Two traveling angels stopped to spend the night in the home of awealthy family. The family was rude and refused to let the angels stay in the mansion's guest room. Instead the angels were given a small space in the cold basement. As they made their bed on the hard floor, the older angel saw a hole in the wall and repaired it. When the younger angelasked why, the older angel replied, "Things aren't always what they seem."

The next night the pair came to rest at the house of a very poor, but very hospitable farmer and his wife. After sharing what little food theyhad the couple let the angels sleep in their bed where they could have a good night's rest. When the sun came up the next morning the angels found the farmer and his wife in tears. Their only cow, whose milk had beentheir sole income, lay dead in the field. The younger angel was infuriated and asked the older angel how could you have let this happen? The first man had everything, yet you helped him, she accused. The second family had little but was willing to share everything, and you letthe cow die. "Things aren't always what they seem," the older angel replied. "When we stayed in the basement of the mansion, I noticed there was gold stored in that hole in the wall. Since the owner was so obsessed with greed and unwilling to share his good fortune, I sealed the wall so he wouldn't find it." "Then last night as we slept in the farmers bed, the angel of deathcame for his wife. I gave him the cow instead. Things aren't always what they seem."

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Mikal
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 07:54 PM

If you liked that, wanna hear another? My grandad used to tell me this one...

THERE WAS IN DUBLIN a very wicked blacksmith by the name of John. Oh, by Saint Patrick he was a wicked, evil man. He was never above doing the two things that are sure to send a blacksmith to the infernal regions: charging too much, and beating cold iron! If it was raining, the man would complain to all how dry it was. And if you had just washed your cloak, or groomed your horse, he was sure to find a reason to scatter dust about and make a great filth! There was never a more contrary man!

One day there came to the town an old dirty beggar-man. He was so frail that it took four walking-sticks to keep him upright. He moved so slow and frail that it seemed the wind of a misspoken word might tip him over. Everyone in the town that came upon him found some reason to walk to the far side of the road, none of them willing to stretch their Christian charity to speak a decent word to him.

When John saw the old man, and how the townsfolk shunned him, he said to himself; "Now here is a chance to make these holier-than-thou people feel bad! I shall invite in this wretched man, and treat him as they should have!" So he invited in the old man and set him in his best chair, the one that was set on rockers. And he set before him a feast of two hens roasted whole, and a bowl of a dozen apples, and a full pitcher of fresh milk made cool in the stream.

To his amazement, the old man ate both the hens in one bite! Then he emptied the bowl as well, and drank the pitcher of milk as if it were a thimble. John did not know what to say. The old man seemed not effected by the meal at all, but looked if anything more frail than before!

At length, John regained his voice. "Is there anything else you'll be wanting?" he asked. But before he could rise the old man started to get up, and up, and up, until he was a full ten feet tall! His rags had turned to a shining white robe, and his face was a shining light.

"I am Saint Michael," the guest said. "Long I wandered looking for a man who would take in a pitiful stranger. Only you, of all the men in the world, took me in. For that deed of Christian kindness, I will give you three wishes.

But listen, John; I have seen the book that Saint Peter keeps at the door of Heaven! You might want to keep one of those wishes to the saving of your soul!

But John seemed not to hear. "Three wishes! Well for the first, do you see that rocking chair? Not a day goes by but some oaf sits and comes near to breaking it! I wish that if anyone sits in it but me, it will rock them 'till they wish to die!

Saint Michael agreed. "Very well. It is done. Now remember your soul, and take care with your last two wishes."

But still John was not listening. "Do you see those tools? It has taken me a lifetime to get them all, yet every fool who comes here is trying to borrow them! I wish that anyone who touches my hammers will find that they will beat their brains out!"

The angel nodded. "It will be as you ask. You have but one last wish, John. You should take care and see to the rest of your soul!" But John would hear none of it. "And that thorn-bush outside; it is a favorite of mine. Yet every day some fool drives his horses or oxen over it an near kills it 'neath their hooves! I wish that if anyone touches it, that it will grab them up and sink every thorn in them until they die!"

Saint Michael sighed. "Well, it is done. That was all your wishes, and not one was for the saving of your soul. Take care, John. Repent your ways before the end does come.

Well, the day did come when John was to die. The Devil, knowing there was no chance of John going anywhere else, called a small demon to him and said; "Go above and fetch John the blacksmith. He is a goodly wicked man and I've a fine hot fire for him!"

The demon was off in a small puff of smoke, and he appeared in the front of John's shop. "Put down your hammer," he told him. "Your time is up. The Devil has sent me to take you below."

John waved him away. "I'm not going while I still have work. These horse-shoes are not yet done. You can sit and wait!"

So the little demon looked about and spied the rocking chair. "I'll just sit here," he said, and sat himself down to rock. he rocked and rocked, thenWHAM-BAM! It slammed him to the floor both front and rear! "Whathappened?" he wondered. So he began to rock again carefully. He rocked, and rocked, and WHAM-BAM! it slammed him front and rear again! And before he could breathe a word, WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM! it began to slam his head to the floor both before the chair and behind! "Help! Oh help!" he cried. "I will die if I get no help!"

"If I let you go will you swear to leave and never bother me again?" John asked.

"Oh yes oh yes oh yes!" the little demon sobbed.

So John said "Let him go!" And the chair threw the demon up in to the air, and he landed with a plop. He then vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing in the infernal regions.

"Well," said the Devil, "Where's John."

And the little demon sobbed; "IwasgoingtogeddhimbutthechairIsatinwent BAMBMAMBAManithurtsomuchIhaddatellhimIwouldn'tcomebaccause ithurtsooooomuch..."

"That John isn't going to get away from me," the Devil cried, and he called in a great big demon and said; "Go above and fetch John the blacksmith. He is a goodly wicked man, and I've a fine hot fire for him."

"No problem," the demon smiled, and disappeared, whomf! in a great cloud of smoke. He reappeared outside John's shop, whomf! "Put down your hammer," he told him. "Your time is up. The Devil has sent me to take you below."

John waved him away. "I'm not going while I still have work. These horse-shoes are not yet done. You can sit and wait!"

"Nothing doing!" the demon snarled, "I heard about your chair!" John thought a moment and said, "As soon as I finish these shoes, I'll go. But if you help, it would go a lot faster!"

The demon agreed, but just as soon as he selected a hammer and started to work the iron, something happened. Tap, tap, tap, he struck the horse-shoe, then BAM! The hammer struck him in the head! He looked at it carefully, then once again he started. Tap, tap, tap, he struck the horseshoe, then BAM! The hammer struck him in the head again! Then before he could move the hammer started pounding him, BAMBAMBAMBAM, right between the eyes!

"Help! Oh help!" he cried. "I will die if I get no help!"

"If I let you go will you swear to leave and never bother me again?" John asked.

"Oh yes oh yes oh yes!" the big demon sobbed.

So John said "Let him go!" And the hammer hit the demon up in to the air, and he landed with a plop. He then vanished , WHOMF! In a big cloud of smoke, reappearing in the infernal regions.

"Well," said the Devil, "Where's John."

And the big demon bellowed; "IwasgoingtogeddhimbuthesaidIshouldhelpmake theshoesanthehammerwentBAMBMAMBAManithurtsomuchIhaddatellhimIwouldn'tcomebackcauseithurtsooooomuch..."

The Devil said, "If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself!" So he began to climb up out of the pit, to fetch back John.

John was still working on the horse-shoes when the ground began to shake. Then the earth cracked open and great clouds of brimstone smoke filled the air. With a huge gout of fire, the Devil rose out of the ground, his hooves as big around as serving platters and his horns as wide as two men's' shoulders. "John!" he shouted, "I've come to take you down below!"

John waved him away. "I'm not going while I still have work. These horse-shoes are not yet done. You can sit and wait!"

"None of your tricks! I've heard about your chair, and I've heard about your tools!" the Devil cried. "Nothing will stop me! You're coming now!"

John set his jaw, and looked the Devil in the eye. "Well then, if you think you can take me, just try!"

And they fell to fighting and kicking. Blood was spilled and teeth were lost! It looked bad for John, for not too far into the fight, he was in the clutches of the Devil, those talon Ed hands wrapped about his throat. Then he noticed they were next to the thorn-bush. With the last of his strength he rolled them over until the Devil was right in the middle of the thorns.

Quick as a wink the thorn bush lashed out and wrapped tighter and tighter around the Devil, squeezing inward until there was no more than a tight little ball of thorns no bigger than a child's fist on the ground.

John walked up to the ball and he asked, "Devil, are you in there?"

And a tiny voice replied, "Yes sir."

"Are you going to go away and never bother me again?"

"Yes sir. Oh yes indeedy!"

"Let him go!" John cried, and the thorn-bush shot the devil up and up like a shooting star. Then he crashed into the ground with a thundering roar that shook the earth for hours.

Well, John lived many years past that time, and of course the time came when he would have to die. All things must die, and it was his time. Since no one came to take him away, John collected his tools and started off himself, on the long climb into Heaven. He climbed up and up, and finally came to the gates of Paradise. He pounded on them, and Saint Peter came running out to see what all the noise was. "Why it's John the blacksmith! We weren't expecting you!"

"Why not?" John asked. "I've died and I must go somewhere."

"Well," Saint Peter said, "We must look in the book and see if you're welcome here." With that he pulled out a huge book and turned to a page. "John! My oh my, this page shows all the good things you've done on earth. It has only one entry; You fed an old beggar-man. That's hardly enough to get you in here."

Then Saint Peter turned to the next page. "This page will list all the bad things you've done." But before he could continue, the page began to unroll, and rolled out the gates, over two or three clouds, and fell off the edge. "Oh John!" Saint Peter shook his head. "This won't do! we can't let you in Heaven!"

"Well then, where do I go?" There was only one place, so John started down, down, down to the infernal regions. It got darker and hotter and far more evil than he could have imagined. Out there on a dismal plain some small demons were playing catch with a fireball. As John approached, one of the little demons caught a glimpse of him. It was the little one the Devil had sent up first.

"OH NO!" the demon cried, "JOHN'S A'COMMIN'!" And he ran up to the gates screaming. He ran all the way into the throne room of the pit, crying

"John's a'commin'! John's a'commin'!"

And the Devil cried "JOHN? Lock all the gates! Bar all the windows! Guard all the walls! He won't get in here!"

When John knocked at the gate, the Devil cried out, "Go away! We don't want you!" "Let me in!" John called, "I've died, and they won,t let me in Heaven. I must go somewhere!"

"Not here!" the Devil replied. "No room for you in here!"

"Then where should I go?"

The Devil thought a bit, then he reached into the hottest part of the pit, and pulled out a glowing, white hot coal. This he threw over the wall to John. "Here!" the Devil shouted! "Go raise some hell of your own!"

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Metchosin
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 01:21 AM

Love it!

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: katlaughing
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 12:54 AM

LOL! MIkal, good one!

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Mikal
Date: 12 Nov 99 - 12:39 AM

THERE WAS A MAN in Ireland who had little luck in farming, and less luck in cutting peat. He had outright failed in making whiskey, and washed out of the horse-trading at the Dublin fair. In fact, there were many who would say if he had not been lucky enough to marry, he would have had no luck at all. (There were a few who might point out his wife and say such luck is no man's joy.) But to get to the heart of the tale, he was without any redeeming qualities whatsoever.

There were but two things he did well; fight and brag. This is not to say he was shunned by his neighbors. Just the opposite was true. Since fighting and bragging constitute the two chiefest entertainments in that country, he was quite popular. It was just that he had no money, nor had he a method of making any.

One year the Dublin fair boasted a huge hulk of a man thought to be the champion of Dublin at the fighting bare handed. So sure were they that a purse of silver was offered to any who could beat him. The luckless man thought to himself, "What harm could there be in me trying him? I've so little luck that I would be injured far worse in trying to make that much money any other way." So he climbed into the circle and quick as a wink he had put the big man down for the counting. Here he was no longer luckless, for now he was the champion of the Dublin fair. He took home the silver and his wife was so happy that she told the whole county that her man was the champion of Dublin.

Now there were those who thought themselves better men than he, and they began to offer him purses to fight them as well. Before too long he was the champion of two counties, then four, then seven, then eleven. By the end of two years he had fought every champion in Ireland and was considered himself to be The Champion of Ireland itself!

He was so proud that he had his wife sew in large letters on his coat "The Champion of Ireland." And all the men in all the public houses knew his name. He had so much money, he no longer fought for purses, but offered them himself if he thought enough of the man.

Then one day a merchant came to town, and when he was introduced to the Champion he exclaimed; "Now I have seen a great wonder! Two champions of two separate countries in one month! Not twenty days ago I saw the man who was champion of Scotland!"

The comment began to gnaw at the champion. There was a Champion of Scotland. If he could but go there and win against this man, he could be champion of both Ireland and Scotland. What a grand thing to be! Perhaps then he could see if there was a champion of England as well . . .

His wife agreed, it might be grand to be the champion of two countries. So she packed him food and clothing and a small hoard of coin and kissed him as he left. He sailed to Scotland that night.

After he landed in Scotland, he began to search for the Champion. everyone he asked pointed him north, into the highlands. The roads got narrower and narrower, and steeper and steeper, until at last it turned into a squirrel's trail and went up the side of a tree. But it was well packed every inch of the way! Beside that tree was a tiny, ramshackle house, and on it's porch was a tiny dried up woman who could scarcely weigh as much as a fat hen. When he asked her where the champion of Scotland was, she pointed him to the rear of the house. "He's plowing the field," she said.

There behind the shack was a field almost straight up and down, a half day's climb in length. Going up this sheer cliff was a giant of a man, seven foot tall and three foot wide at the shoulder! He was driving a plow, that was pulled by two wild bulls that he kept in line with cursing and kicks and blows. Over his shoulder was a mattress tic, filled with thirty bushels of seed that he scattered with his other hand. When he reached the far end of the field, he reached out and knocked out both bulls with one punch, lifted the plow and bulls together,turned them all around, and then slapped the bulls awake and started back.

The champion of Ireland watched him come closer, and set his jaw. He drew himself up and shouted; "You, man! I've come seeking the Champion of Scotland! Are you he?"

"Aye," the big man growled. "I am he. What is your business?"

The Irishman said, "I've just come to tell you you're the Champion of Ireland, too!"


Mikal

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Metchosin
Date: 11 Nov 99 - 01:27 AM

Thank you MMario for your delightful story. Wow.

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: katlaughing
Date: 10 Nov 99 - 09:07 PM

WOW! That's incredible! And, I didn't know that about the ^^, I just thought they were little cat ears!

I've another one I'll post later or tomorrow. It's one I've had in my head for some time now, thinking about a doing a kids' book for it.

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: MMario
Date: 10 Nov 99 - 08:55 PM

well - many stories and myths are suppossed to evolve to explain what isn't readily apparent. and I wondered for a long time what the ^^ were that sometimes appeared at the bottom of various posts. So when I found out they were the marks of the post being 'harvested', my twisted little brain combined that with my original supposition that Cleigh was running around leaving earprints....and the story is the result. I grew up in the same town as TWB and many of the same stomping grounds, had friends who lived in the house where he was born, and my sister worked at the museum that was established about him. so to do the story in his style seemed appropriate.

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: katlaughing
Date: 10 Nov 99 - 08:45 PM

Bravo, MMario! LOL! What a wonderful tie-in! I wanna possum with a pouch!

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: McGrath of Harlow
Date: 10 Nov 99 - 08:34 PM

Thanks MMario. I'd forgotten about Thornton Burgess for many years. You set me lookig, and I found I've got two of his books on a shelf somewhere.

But I was expecting to see Reddy's dodgy uncle Harry Fox come into the story, and get sorted out.

Anyway this thread set me thinking aboput looking for storytelling sites. Storytelling is increasingly playing a big part in folk festivals, and having its own festivals as well, and is very much part of the folik community. world. So there have to be some good sites, but there's didn't seem to be much on the Mudcat links list.

So I looked around and found this one, which seems handy, and on the same wavelength as Mudcat generally, and I've stuck it in as a link. I won't try a blue clicky thing this late at night - they always seem to go wrong for me. So here is the URL of "Story Resources available on the Web" : http://www.enigmagraphics.com/stories/index.htm

If other people have good storytelling sites they know about, I think it would be good to link up. For one thing I imagine storytellers get the same kind of hassles about copyright as folk singers.

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 10 Nov 99 - 08:14 PM

*BG* Great, MMario!

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: MMario
Date: 10 Nov 99 - 07:06 PM

With apologies to Thornton W. Burgess, story-teller extrodinaire:

One evening, as the sun set behind the Blue Hills, Mother West Wind gathered up the Merry Little Breezes into her bag, as she did every evening as she traveled homewards. The Merry Little Breezes were tired, but not overly so, as they had spent their day playing, as they spent every day. They had run along the babbling brook, wound their way amidst the trees of the Forest, raced up and down the Green Meadow and tousled Peter Rabbit's fur as he went about his business in the Briar Patch.
When Mother West Wind reached the Clearing in the Woods, the Merry Little Breezes begged her for a story. 'Tell us!" they cried. "Tell us a story of when the world was new, and you and Father Time were young."
"I don't think Father Time was EVER young," said Mother West Wind. 'But I will tell you a tale of when I was only a Merry Little Breeze. But first, you must run and gather the animals, so that all may share in the tale."
So the Merry Little Breezes ran to the animals, whispering in their ears, "Mother West Wind is telling a story!", they whispered to Peter Rabbit, and Mrs. Peter. "Come to the Clearing in the Woods" they told Reddy Fox, Johnny Chuck and HappyJack Squirrel. And to every animal and bird of the woods and forest they spread the word that Mother West Wind was telling a story.
In almost no time at all the animals were gathered in the Clearing in the Woods, eagerly awaiting the story from Mother West Wind. "Soon," she told them, "I will begin, but we must wait for everyone to arrive."
"Oh Mother West Wind!" cried the Merry Little Breezes and all the animals. "Everyone is here!" But just then there was a rustling in the bushes at the edge of the clearing. As everyone swung around to see who could be coming, into the clearing came two small, very tired little animals. They were dark grey, with long snouts, and even longer naked looking tails. "Welcome," said Mother West Wind to the newcomers. "Old Dame Nature told me you were coming. Sit, and listen to my story."
"Who ARE they," wondered the rest of the animals. "I've NEVER seen an animal like them!" declared Grandfather Frog. "Where did they COME from," asked the Merry Little Breezes.
And Old Man Coyote looked smug , because of all the animals, he had some idea of who the new little creatures were.
And as the animals all settled down again, making room for the two tired little travelers, Mother West Wind began her story.
'You all remember that when the world was new, all animals were the same. And you will remember how Old Dame Nature gave gifts to each animal, so that everyone could be different from their neighbors.' She said. 'But these two little animals who have joined us tonight have a gift that is very different from any of the rest of you. They have traveled from the Deep South to be here with us. And they are called Possums. This is Cleigh O'Possum and his little sister Dido.' 'Their family is very old, and Cleigh looks much like most animals did, back when the world was new, before the animals received their special gifts. But Dido has the special gift that Old Dame Nature gave to the Possums.' "Show us!" called the Merry Little Breezes. 'Show us!" So Dido showed them all her special gift from Old Dame Nature. For like all female possums, Dido had a pouch, like the big pouch on the front of Farmer Brown's Boy's overalls. "When I get older," she said shyly, "I will carry a treasure in my pouch." Then she hid behind her brother.
"Now," said Mother West Wind, "I will tell you about the only MALE possum ever to have a pouch. He was known as the "harvest possum", and some say he is still alive and going about his work." Cleigh sat up straight and paid attention at these words, for he had never known there was ever a male possum who had possessed a pouch.
"There once was a possum who loved music. He would sit all day and listen to the birds, and to the Merry Little Breezes as they played with the branches of the trees, making tunes. He tried very hard to remember what he heard, but found it very difficult sometimes to remember what he had heard, and where he had heard it. Sometimes, when he heard music that was particularly beautiful, or unique, or different from anything else he had ever heard, he would try to mark the spot where he heard it, so that it would help him remember what he had heard. He tried all sorts of ways of marking the spots he had found music, but the BEST way he ever discovered was to lean his head down to the ground and make a mark with his ears, that looked JUST like this" ^^
"One day, this possum had just run across one of his marks, but though he thought and thought and thought, he couldn't remember what music he had heard that had caused him to make the mark. He was very sad, and though he didn't want to, he soon found himself beginning to cry.'
"It was then that Old Dame Nature came by and found the poor little possum sitting there, crying. When she asked him what was the matter, he told her; "I KNOW I heard some beautiful music here, but I can't remember what it was, or how it sounded."
'Wiping his eyes, he explained to Old Dame Nature that he didn't mark just any old spot, but only the special ones. "Over there," he pointed, "was where I first heard a whip-poor-will. I have heard them many time since, but I only marked that spot. And by that ol' dead tree is where I first heard Hammerhead the woodpecker going RAT-RATTA-TAT-TAT. But I don't remember what I heard HERE! Oh, if ONLY I had a pouch like my sisters and mother and could put the music in my pouch so I wouldn't lose it."
"And as he sat there next to Old Dame Nature, that little possum felt the STRANGEST thing he had ever felt in his life. And when he looked down at himself, he found that right there on his front he had a pouch, which looked JUST like the ones his mother and sisters and aunts had." "Because you care so much about music" said Old Dame Nature "I have given you a pouch. Whenever you make your mark with your ears, the music will enter your pouch. You will not lose the music again, and any one who wants to know the music you have heard will know, when they see your ^^ mark that you have harvested that music, and they can come to you and look in your pouch and find the music, even if they can't remember what it was like."
And THAT is the story of the Harvest Possum.

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Metchosin
Date: 08 Nov 99 - 11:43 AM

Wow guys, truly engrossing and beautifully done. I'll never have to make a trip down to my friendly book store ever again, if you keep this up. Thank you for sharing them. How can anyone have ever said that the Short Story is a dead art!

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: katlaughing
Date: 08 Nov 99 - 12:12 AM

Well, LeeJ! We were clicking in at the same time. I was hoping you would join in! Superb as always; I still say you should publish, man!!! Thank you! luvyaKat

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: katlaughing
Date: 07 Nov 99 - 11:28 PM

Bravo, McGrath! Well-done...poor soul of a stranger>:-)

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: Lonesome EJ
Date: 07 Nov 99 - 11:28 PM

(McGrath, that was a funny, and really quite amazing, little story)

The camp was covered in snow, the tepees hurriedly set up in a ring in the small clearing surrounded by cliffs. The people were cold and had eaten nothing but some pemmican for two days. This night Joseph had said that they could build some small banked fires up hard against the cliff, because he thought that the fresh snow might have covered their paths. Red-tailed Hawk and Shadow had brought in some rabbits, and the people feasted. It seemed they might actually escape to the North Country, maybe tomorrow or the next day. The children stayed up late by the warmth of the fires,and Raccoon Woman sang some funny songs for them about animal spirits that were stealing little things from the lodges.

Joseph came up to the fire, and his woman brought a basket of dried berries that she shared with the laughing children."Joseph!" cried out his nephew Bear Paw."Tell us a story!" At first Joseph just laughed and lit his hatchet/pipe, saying "I have no more stories. You've gotten all of them out of me." Bear Paw came and sat next to his Uncle,the Chief."Then tell us an old story,Uncle! Tell the one about Coyote and the Bear!" Joseph smiled and looked at the boy, seeing Bear's Father in his face, his Father who had fallen by the side of the trail like so many others on their way to this place. At last Joseph stood up. "All this happened in the old time,before there were any human beings."

Coyote was lazy.He would never hunt,or fish,or find berries growing.He would only spend his time thinking up ways to trick other animals out of their food. When Brown Bear was fishing, Coyote would sneak up behind and wait until bear had hooked a fat salmon on his claw, then he would snatch it and run to a hole on the ground that was too small for Brown Bear to get in. Once Coyote found a dead fish on the bank and he wrapped a long reed around it's body. Then he got a bunch of black rocks he had found and sat on the bank beside them,waiting for Heron. Heron was a great fisherman, but not as smart as Coyote. When Heron saw him, he said"Good morning, Coyote. Why are you fooling around with those rocks?" And Coyote said,"You say I'm fooling around, but you are wrong. I am fishing."Heron laughed at this, but he was curious."How can you fish with those rocks?" Coyote said "it's easy. These are magic rocks. I just stack them up, put a reed in the water, and wait for a salmon to grab on to it. Watch!" and that crafty Coyote stacked up the rocks,danced around them like this... and pulled out the reed with the fish on it. Heron was amazed, and said"where did you find these rocks?" Coyote smiled and said "oh there are no more. I was given them by a rock spirit." He sat and ate his fish,which did not taste good, and he rolled it in the mud so that Heron wouldn't smell it.Heron said "I have a basket of dried salmon I would give to you for your rocks." Coyote said "give me two baskets and the rocks are yours." Heron did this, and Coyote sat on a warm rock eating dried fish while he watched Heron stacking the rocks and pulling out every reed he could find from the stream. Coyote began to laugh at this, rolling around on the rock and grabbing his full belly. He called out "Heron! You are more stupid even than Bear!At least he knows when I have stolen fish from him!" Coyote did not know that Brown Bear had seen all of this.

Soon the wind became cold from the North, and the stream was locked in ice. Snow fell across the forest, as Coyote sat in his hole eating the last of the dried fish."Winter is coming and I am afraid of freezing or starving," he said to himself. Then he had an idea. Brown Bear slept in a cozy den all winter, and in the spring he was strong and rested. Coyote went to see Bear."Oh Great Hunter,"said the sneaky Coyote,"take me into your den for the Winter and I will teach you the magic of fishing with rocks."The Bear took Coyote to his den and said "you must do everything I say or you will freeze. First, cover yourself with dung." Coyote did this." Now put these thorns and bristles in your tail."Coyote did this."Now stick your nose in this fire and breath in the heat so that you will have fire inside all Winter." Coyote did this and his muzzle suddenly burst into flames! He ran from Bear's cave going yelp-yelp-yelp! until he found some snow to stick his face into. When Coyote looked around, he saw Bear,Heron, and all the other animals laughing at him.

And Coyote spent that cold Winter scrounging for food on his own, while the other animals slept in warm dens. And he still does. And sometimes if you are quite quiet, you might hear him crying in the dark about his burnt nose.

Joseph sat alone by the fire as the people went off to their lodges. He knew the soldiers were just a short way behind them now, and in the early morning he would go to the top of the ridge where he could see them, and they would see him. This would be the end of the long path they had taken from the Camas Prairie, and there would be no more fighting. Maybe in the morning they might start the long journey home.

LEJ

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: McGrath of Harlow
Date: 07 Nov 99 - 07:54 PM

There was a town in a valley, and on the mountainside above it there was a monastery. And every day, at exactly six o'clock in the evening, the big bell in the tower of the monastery would ring out, and echo all over the valley.

The six o'clock bell was the signal for people to stop work, and start eating their evening meal, and getting ready to go out for the evening, if they were going out, or sitting around and passing the time at home if they were staying home.

Anyway, the evening bell seemed to be a settled part of keeping the place tranquil and easy going. At least that was how it felt to a man from a foreign country who came there for a visit.

So the visiotor went up to the castle, and he asked the monk whose job it was to ring the bell "Why does the big bell ring at exactly six o'clock", and the monk whose job it was to ring the bell said that was so that the people in the town would know it was time to have their evening meal, and the monks would know it was time for the evening prayer - and so that everyone would know that things were all right,and the monastery was looking after things.

And he said "And how do you know when it is exactly six o'clock?" and the monk said, "That's not so hard - down in the town there is a small clockmaker's shop on the edge of the town, and in the window there is a fine clock, and it always keeps perfect time. And do you see this spyglass that hangs by the bellrope? If I look through it I can see that clock in the window, and when it says six o'clock, I ring the bell."

So next day the visitor went round to the clockmaker,just before six o'clock, and he saw the clock in the window, and sure enough, as the clock struck six, the bell from the monastery rang out.

So the visitor went into the shop and the clockmaker was there, winding up his clocks. "How do you manage to keep your clocks telling perfect time" said the visitor.

"Oh that's not so hard" said the clockmaker. "You must be a stranger in town. You see, every day at exactly six o'clock the big bell in the monastery rings out. So I can check that the clocks aren't going fast or slow."

I see" said the visitor. But he didn't really.

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: katlaughing
Date: 07 Nov 99 - 01:17 PM

WL, thank you, but it is M'Cat inspired. Something about this place seems to nurture and bring forth creativity of everyone. Please, please add your own, phoaks.luvyaKat

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: wildlone
Date: 07 Nov 99 - 12:50 PM

Kat how can we compete with your story, I for one will not even try.
wl

Subject: RE: BS: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: katlaughing
Date: 06 Nov 99 - 07:46 PM

Thanks, Kevin:-) Now, I know ye've a few in ya; c'mon an share a tale or two!

Subject: Story Round-Come add your 2 cents!
From: katlaughing
Date: 05 Nov 99 - 08:46 PM

With apologies to any Native Americans who might think I am plagarising in any way. I have a very clear vision of the woman and forest in this story. Any similarity to any other stories is wholly unintentional. And, my great-great grandma was Indian.*smile* PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CONTINUE WITH ANOTHER WITH THESE CHARACTERS OR A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT ONE. I DON'T CARE. I JUST THOGUHT WE NEEDED ANOTHER STORY THREAD! MamaKatSageWalker

WHITE BLANKET TIME

The grass and leaves crunched under the feet of the little children. Above them, the lodgepole pines and aspen whistled with the chill of the gathering evening's wind. "Whooo" said the wind. Off to their side, they could hear little creatures rustling among the bushes; scurrying to settle safely for the night.

The old woman gathered her shawl tighter round her shoulders. Her face was lines with years of living; her eyes rimed, yet somehow bright and with a depth of wisdom. She spoke to the children in a storng, yet soft voice. They stepped lightly in order to hear her better, not wanting to miss a word of the legend she told.

In the days of the Mother's Beginning, we peoples didn't know how to do anything for ourselves. The fox, the lion, the bear, the turlte, the otter, the whale, all these, she swept her arms wide to encompass the earth everywhere, all these brothers and sisters were smarter than us. They lived together and never were cross or mean. When they found the First People, they took them in as cubs and kits. They taught them their ways. This is what we know from our grandmothers and grandfathers. Because of them, our people know how to live and care for one another. She closed her eyes then, still walking. The children stared at her with wonder, stumbling from not watching where they walked.

Her story continued, This time of the Circle, when everything is getting ready to go to sleep, we people have to stay awake and survive. When we grew too big for the dens and parenting of the Wise Four-leggeds, Wingeds, and Water-Dwellers, they finally cast us out. We were arrogant, mocking them for their gentle ways and for resting when the earth had pulled up the white blanket of winter.

That first winter was hard. Many First People did not survive. When the flowers began to blossom, when the trees burst forth with leaves, the People were humbled and grateful for their survival. But, they were not allowed to ever forget their arrogance. That is why we walk among the wood, today, watching for signs of the creatures; as they gather the pinon nuts, as they fatten from eating berries and fish, as they scurry to line their nests and dens, so must we. So, watch little ones, tell me what you see. Are you ready for the white blanket time?

©1999 KL