Week 15 Story: Children of a Feather

"Timmy!!!"

The Daycare attendant had yelled this name far too often for her liking.

"Timmy, come over here!"

The menace that was little Timmy strolled over to the long suffering Ms. Susan with an air of innocence that only the most guilty could have.

"Timmy, what did I tell you about tackling the other kids?"

A silence followed.

"I told you that it wasn't nice. Just because you are stronger doesn't mean you have to show it off. Now off to the corner for you, to think about what you've done."

Timmy didn't like this one bit.

"You have to catch me first!" The little devil replied before charging in between Ms. Susan's legs knocking her (and anything else in his path) flat down.

Oh what am I ever going to do? Pondered Ms. Susan, wondering if 27 was early enough to retire.

Suddenly a crash, quickly followed by a loud whining of pain.

As Ms. Susan rounded the corner of the room to see what the fuss was all about she frustratedly said, "Now what have you done this time, Timmy?"

But it was not Timmy. It was a new kid, one of the other attendants must have checked him in.

"Haha!" The young boy exclaimed over his still crying victim. He too ran off with all the grace of a tornado.

Ms. Susan was done for surely. She knew she'd have to quit now. She was far too young for all that white hair.

As she rounded the corner again, fully expecting to see a new disaster brewing with the two children, she was caught by surprise.

There was no fighting, no bickering. Timmy and the new kid were locked in what appeared to be a staring contest.

Ms. Susan stood there motionless until finally the boys seemed to come to an agreement and shook hands in a sign of peace.

"Huh, birds of a feather I guess..."



Author's notes:
Today's story is based of the Jataka tale, "Birds of a Feather" that I read a while back. The original story is about two wild horses and there is a bit of a intrigue plot with a wicked king and some peasants, but I personally enjoyed the horses part of the story best. While reading it, it really reminded me of children on a playground and so I hoped to capture some of that feeling in my retelling.

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Week 12 Story: His Eyes

Drip... Drip... Drip...

The faucet hadn't stopped dripping since Gahndar turned the water off. The old rusty sink refused to obey her commands no matter how hard she turned the knob.

But there wasn't time to think about this. She had no idea how much time she had before they came for her and her soon to be husband. He awaited her just outside the bathroom, patiently. He was always patient. He was the sunshine in a dark world.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

He loved her and she loved him. Why couldn't it be that simple.

The government agents would be here before long, if she hadn't finished by then they would take her lover away. They would take her sweet Dedrash away from her.

They had nothing in common. That was the real problem.

Drip...

He had gorgeous dark hair. She was a messy red head.

Drip...

He had a talent for mathematics. She leaned towards painting.

Drip...

He was blind. She was not.

...

The dripping had finally stopped. They wouldn't care how much Gahndar cared about him, or how much she was interested in his talents and passions. They had nothing in common and the government deemed them incompatible. That was about to change.

When she left the bathroom his eyes would light up like they always do despite his condition. They were one way mirrors into his soul and how she loved to stare deeply into them. They held no hate, no prejudice, no fear. His eyes were pure.

The knife in her hand trembled under her uncertain gaze. There was no time to falter now. They would be here soon with their rules and their laws an their guns. What was love compared to those?

Drip...

It was back. The metronome of the water echoed in her head as she made her decision.

Drip...

He was blind. She was not.

That was about to change.

Drip... Drip... Drip...


Source: "The Blind Bride"
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Author's note: So I did a planning post on this story, so most of the information on where the ideas for this story came from can be found there. The way I told my story is very similar to how the movie The Lobster ends. I did however, take advantage of the medium of print to focus the story more internally in the main character's struggle in her decision. I respected both of the source materials for the strong character's they had, but the Indian epic character was far more decisive in the storytelling. I decided to keep the movie's indecision instead.

Week 9 Story: The Eight Porcelain Turtles

In front of Shane sat 8 porcelain turtles. Their perfectly hand sculpted shape, repeated precisely on each shell.

These turtles were a legend. He had hardly believed his partner River when she told him that they were more than myth. One could only imagine his reaction when she told him that they could be stolen.

Each turtle was priceless on it's own, but the whole set could fetch enough to make Shane and River two of the richest people this side of the Mississippi. Shane's hands shook with excitement, the previous two hours of laborious lock picking and deft cutting of wires was behind him and now they were safely away from the crime scene.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

The twinge of bitterness in her voice surprised Shane. Shouldn't this be their moment of triumph? What is wrong?

River continued, "Remember, I told you that if you wanted to be a part of this heist then you would have to trust me unconditionally?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

Shane's voice betrayed doubt. This isn't like her.

"You need to trust me now, Shane. Do you trust me?"

Shane turned to River. He didn't like to make promises without eye contact. They felt less sincere.

"Of course I trust you, now what is it?"

"We need to crack open these turtles."

There was a ring to the end of the word. the room echoed her like it understood the weight her words implied. Shane would have none of this.

"Are you insane? These are worth a fortune. It'd be like burning a billion dollars!"

"Shane..."

"Why in the world would we destroy them?"

"I can't tell you Shane."

Shane stepped back in shock. River must have lost her mind.

She continued, "If you won't then I have to myself and you can walk out that door."

"Who's to say I'd leave without my share?"

River pulls up her hand. Shane can see a gun that was previously concealed. Keeping a sharp eye on Shane, River reaches over and grabs the first turtle.

"You should have just trusted me."

River slams it on the table's corner. It cracks. The pieces fall to the ground, echoing a finality.

River's eyes never leave Shane as he says, "River, let's talk this out."

Crack.

River's eyes squint as she breaks a third turtle.

And a fourth.

And a fifth.

And a sixth.

Shane is powerless, there is nothing he can do as he watches his dreams of wealth crash before his eyes.

And a seventh.

River pauses with the last turtle in hand. She looks to Shane and says, "I do not take kindly to those who can't obey orders."

The last turtle cracks. Instead of shards of porcelain falling to the ground however, a shimmering streak can be seen beneath the surface of the porcelain.

"Is that..." Shane can't finish the sentence. he is awestruck at the gem that has been revealed.

"Yes it is. In my hand I hold the most valuable diamond in the world. It is worth more than most of the countries on this planet. It's a shame, you could have had a piece of this but you doubted me and now you get a different kind of reward."

The trigger on her gun cocks.

Bang.



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Author's notes: I based this story loosely on the story of King Shantanu and his wife Ganga. More info can be found in my story plan from a couple weeks back, but the parallels are rather obvious. I decided to change the relationship between the characters and the premise because I wanted to take the concept of trust inherent in the original and put into a new story.

Week 5 Story: The mighty and the flea

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Backstory is just as important, if not more so, as fore-story. It is important to understand where one is before one might understand where they must go. Moving blind through life is a recipe for disaster and strife, but onto our story at hand.

There once was a man, so strong and so powerful that none dared face his might. He could slay monsters and demons with a single arrow from his epic bow. His wife was considered the most beautiful in the land. Her beauty could make a saint repent or a monk speak tongues.

Well this man, despite his infinite charm and in-spite of his power bred many a jealous enemy. But there was one rival that could light a candle to the strength of the man. He envied the strength of the man, he envied his beautiful wife, he envied the respect that he was awarded world wide.

And so, one day this rival hatched a plan, and indeed he executed his evil will. The rival stole the wife away. He took her to the most safe guarded of castles, a fortress impenetrable to even the man himself.The fortress was built of bricks so tightly that no arrow could possibly penetrate their exterior. And so, the man was without his Wife.

The man was in sorrow, for he knew not if his wife was alive or dead. Soon, news of his tragedy spread far and wide. Creatures great and small heard the tears shed by the mightiest of men.

Many came to the aid of the man. But alas, one by one they all tried and failed to penetrate the walls of the fortress.

Finally after many months the man gave up hope. But in this moment of utter defeat a hero emerged. It was not a lion, with a roar to shatter bones. It was not a bear, with arms to do much the same. It was a flea, a simple, small flea.

This flea though was able to do what no one else could. He was tiny enough to slip through the brick and mortar and make his way into the fortress, there he saw that indeed the wife was still alive, and fighting fiercely to stay away from the rival.

The man's vigor was renewed.

Now that is the end of this story. But stories never really end, just as they never truly begin.

Author's notes: I based this story off of the tale where Hanuman is able to sneak into the castle to see if Sita is alive. I changed the story to focus on the mighty Rama having one weakness, one that he could not get past without the help of his friend Hanuman.

Week 3 Story: Frogs have epics too

There is a secret that few people know, a piece of knowledge whispered down alleyways at night by strange men going nowhere in particular. It is a fragment of the truth told for generations but never made known, until now.

The ideas of heroes and villains, gods and demons, these are not unique to the human race. There is one other creature whose members have found themselves worthy of epic. These are the frogs.

Since time itself began they have kept to themselves, fearing the pride of human arrogance. But sometimes paths converge and this is one such story.

This tale is about the legendary frog, Raba. Long ago, before even autumn knew how to paint the trees, a frog whose tale was so great that all of the world, frogkind and mankind knew of his exploits. He was loved by most, but not by all. Among the humans there was one in particular whose hatred knew no bounds. This man was called Jababa.

He was small for a human, only watching the stature of 3 grown frogs.His envy for frogkind was wicked and coursed through his veins and he hated Raba most of all.

One day he happened upon a frog princess, one so beautiful that lilies grew from the water wherever she swam; she was Siba. Seeing her charm and undeniable power to control the hearts of frogs everywhere, Jababa kidnapped her.

Hoping to shame frogs everywhere, he issued a challenge. Out of a large stick, almost as high as he, Jababa fashioned a sturdy bow but left it unstrung. He said that the frog that could string the bow and wield it against him may win the hand of Siba.

Frog after frog jumped at the opportunity, but all failed. It was a dark time for the species of frogs.

But all was not lost. Raba, seeing the beauty of Siba endeavored to win her love. Approaching Jababa, Raba held the unstrung bow gracefully and with the care of a mother strung the bow. Jababa could not believe his eyes, indeed he could hardly move as an arrow flew from the great bow and deftly pierced his chest.

Raba and Siba had many more adventures, but this is the end for this one.



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"Rama Wins Sita" Public Domain Ramayana, Link to the reading online.

Author's footnotes: The story here is based loosely on the story of how the Indian prince, Rama, won the beautiful Sita. I embellished on it a bit to make it a more standalone story. The choice to make it about frogs is not very meaningful. I just thought of the image of a bow wielding frog and laughed to myself.

Week 2 Story: Nukes

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"Holy cow!" said Rob as his eyes hungrily read the digital article in front of him, "Donald Trump nukes Russia!"

He couldn't believe his eyes. His mind raced over what this meant. Did Trump really just plunge the world into chaos. Rob's nervous hand runs through locks of hair as he considers how his life would be affected. He had to tell someone.

"Trump nuked Russia!"

Rob was standing fanatically in the door way of his best friend Jeff's house.

"What?" Jeff said half-heartedly, head buried in his phone screen. His fingers typed away busily, he was always plugged in.

"Trump nuked Rus..." Rob is interrupted by a soft ding from his pocket. As he pulls his phone out he begins talking, "You tagged me in a post?"

Rob eyes the post, a ten paragraph rant on the American situation concluded by the terrifying News of Russia's demise.

"You wrote that quick."

Jeff replies with a half shrug, still not looking up.

The doorbell rings, Rob quickly opens the door.

"Is it true?"

The gossip of the town, Sarah Tupper, stood at the door, notebook ready for an answer.

"Of course!" Rob was insulted at the doubt.

"O. M. G." Sarah walked away, content that she had the new scoop to share with her friends.

The next hour was a blur. Worry and fear permeated Rob's small town, news travels fast after all.

Rob takes his phone out. He had to read the article again. As he opened the article he sees something he missed the first time.

A little above the provocative title was the name of the website, unseen before, but painfully obvious now.

The article had been written by the onion.




Author's note: the original story of this was the timid Rabbit, the story of a rabbit who freaks out over nothing and subsequently freaks out his entire community. The moral of that story was to not let yourself be scared at every little fright, with an undercurrent of "check your sources". My version of the story leans far more heavily on the secondary message.

Jataka Takes by Ellen C Babbitt. Digital sourceDigital Source.