Aboriginal Myths - Baiame and Creation

And again like the Lord God, Baiame walked on the earth he had made, among the plants and animals, and created man and woman to rule over them. He fashioned them from the dust of the ridges, and said,
'These are the plants you shall eat - these and these, but not the animals I have created.'
Having set them in a good place, the All-Father departed.
To the first man and woman, children were born and to them in turn children who enjoyed the work of the hands of Baiame. His world had begun to be populated, and men and women praised Baiame for providing for all their needs. Sun and rain brought life to the plants that provided their sustenance.
All was well in the world they had received from the bountiful provider, until a year when the rain ceased to fall. There was little water. The flowers failed to fruit, leaves fell from the dry, withered stems, and there was hunger in the land--a new and terrifying experience for men, women, and little children who had never lacked for food and drink.
In desperation a man killed some of the forbidden animals, and shared the kangaroo-rats he had caught with his wife. They offered some of the flesh to one of their friends but, remembering Baiame's prohibition, he refused it. The man was ill with hunger. They did their best to persuade him to eat, but he remained steadfast in his refusal. At length, wearying of their importunity, he staggered to his feet, turning his back on the tempting food, and walked away.
Shrugging their shoulders, the husband and wife went on with their meal. Once they were satisfied, they thought again of their friend and wondered whether they could persuade him to eat. Taking the remains of the meal with them, they followed his trail. It led across a broad plain and disappeared at the edge of a river. They wondered how he had crossed it and, more importantly, how they themselves could cross. In spite of the fact that it had dwindled in size, owing to the prolonged drought, it was running too swiftly for them to wade or swim.
They could see him, some little distance away on the farther side, lying at the foot of a tall gum tree. They were on the point of turning back when they saw a coal-black figure, half man half beast, dropping from the branches of the tree and stooping over the man who was lying there. They shouted a warning, but were too far away for him to hear, even if he were awake. The black monster picked up the inert body, carried it up into the branches and disappeared. They could only think that the tree trunk was hollow and that the monster had retreated to its home with his lifeless burden.
One event succeeded another with bewildering rapidity. A puff of smoke billowed from the tree. The two frightened observers heard a rending sound as the tree lifted itself from the ground, its roots snapping one by one, and soared across the river, rising as it took a course to the south. As it passed by they had a momentary glimpse of two large, glaring eyes within its shadow, and two white cockatoos with frantically flapping wings, trying to catch up with the flying tree, straining to reach the shelter of its branches.
Within minutes the tree, the cockatoos, and the glaring eyes had dwindled to a speck, far to the south, far above their heads.
For the first time since creation, death had come to one of the men whom Baiame had created, for the monster within the tree trunk was Yowee, the Spirit of Death.
In the desolation of a drought-stricken world, all living things mourned because a man who was alive was now as dead as the kangaroo-rats that had been killed for food.
Baiame's intention for the men and animals he loved had been thwarted. 'The swamp oak trees sighed incessantly, the gum trees shed tears of blood, which crystallised as red gum,' wrote Roland Robinson, in relating this legend of the Kamilroi tribe in his book Wandjina. 'To this day,' he continued, 'to the tribes of that part is the Southern Cross known as "Yaraandoo"--the place of the White Gum tree--and the Pointers as "Mouyi", the white cockatoos.'
It was a sad conclusion to the hopes of a world in the making, but the bright cross of the Southern Cross is a sign to men that there is a place for them in the limitless regions of space, the home of the All-Father himself, and that beyond death lies a new creation.

Source: Australian Dreamtime

Book Choice: The Speaking Land: Myth and Story in Aboriginal Australia

Nό Wa Mends the Sky

I really love to read myths and legends that come from far away lands, especially from China. So here's for you today the story of a woman who knew how to mend the sky:

In ancient times, the four corners of the sky collapsed and the world with its nine regions split open. The sky could not cover all the things under it, nor could the earth carry all the things on it. A great fire raged and would not die out; a fierce flood raced about and could not be checked. Savage beasts devoured innocent people; vicious birds preyed on the weak and old.
Then Nό Wa melted rocks of five colours and used them to mend the cracks in the sky. She supported the four corners of the sky with the legs she had cut off from a giant turtle. She killed the black dragon to save the people of Jizhou, and blocked the flood with the ashes of reeds. Thus the sky was mended, its four corners lifted, the flood tamed, Jizhou pacified, and harmful birds and beasts killed, and the innocent people were able to live on the square earth under the dome of the sky. It was a time when birds, beasts, insects and snakes no longer used their claws or teeth or poisonous stings, for they did not want to catch or eat weaker things.
Nό Wa's deeds benefited the heavens above and the earth below. Her name was remembered by later generations and her light shone on every creation. Now she was travelling on a thunder-chariot drawn by a two-winged dragon and two green hornless dragons, with auspicious objects in her hands and a special mattress underneath, surrounded by golden clouds, a white dragon leading the way and a flying snake following behind. Floating freely over the clouds, she took ghosts and gods to the ninth heaven and had an audience with the Heavenly Emperor at Lin Men, where she rested in peace and dignity under the emperor. She never boasted of her achievements, nor did she try to win any renown; she wanted to conceal her virtues, in line with the ways of the universe.

Source: China Vista

Book Choice: Treasury of Chinese Folk Tales: Beloved Myths and Legends from the Middle Kingdom

Gypsy Heart

After a very long time i bring to you one of my very own short stories. Gypsy Heart talks about the good and the evil that lurks in the hearts of all the people. I know that it's far from perfect, but here it is anyway:

Erato was a kind-hearted girl. She would wake up in the morning with a big smile on her face and go to bed at night just the same. Everyone loved her, old and young alike. Her long blonde curly hair, her sparkling blue eyes, her dove white skin, her always smiling angel-like face and the natural warmth of her being, made her stand out among the youth of her village. She looked so different than the rest of them; so nice, so beautiful, so unreal. But, in the small society of a village, the one that is different, that one is also cursed; cursed by the evil that lurks in every human soul.
Everyone she knew pretended to be nice, pretended to be faithful, pretended to be kind-hearted; she were all the above. She cared for and loved all the people; she respected all, gods and humans, and had faith in them. She has always been like that, ever since she was a kid. Back then, she would give her toys away to other kids, who were poor; once she even dared take off her jacket, while walking in the village’s square, and offer it to the beggar’s daughter, who was shivering with cold.
Her father, a very rich and highly respected man, who had more money and land than anyone would ever dare dream of, didn’t really like the ways of his daughter. He didn’t give a damn about what the other people thought of Erato; “money is money and it shouldn’t be wasted,” was his belief, but he wouldn’t say that aloud because everyone would turn against him. His wife was quite proud of the girl, and his sons, well, they just didn’t seem to care.
As time passed Erato would grow to be more beautiful and more generous, a girl with a heart of gold. The old women would pray for her wishing god to have her always well, the mothers of the younger men would wish for her to be married to their sons, and the girls, well, they would be jealous of her, but none of them could ever be like her. As for the boys, they simply worshipped her. However, the idea of getting married never crossed her mind. She had so much love in her heart, and instead of giving it to a single man she’d rather offer it to anyone who ever needed it. So, she’d spent endless nights and days, taking care of sick and lonely old women, who had no one in the world but her, and just as much time teaching the children of the gypsy that settled close by, how to read and write. Even the priest thought that Erato one day would be “declared a saint!”
Well, her father had no use for kind words. All he cared about was for her to grow up and get married, and stop being so damn stupid. Her brothers felt just the same; the silly girl was giving little by little their fortune away. Something had to be done with her. So, many times, they would try to talk her out of her way of life, but with no success. She would just sit there and listen to them with that big shiny smile of hers, giving no promises about anything.
By her eighteenth birthday she was as beautiful as a fairy, like a dream. Her face was shining brighter than the sun, and her hair were framing it in golden perfection. One after the other the young and not so young men of her village, would go and ask for her hand in marriage, but her father would turn down every offer. His daughter was a princess, and to someone like her she would have to be married. Erato, who really didn’t want to break anyone’s heart, was happy that her father did all the dirty work for her. Besides, she didn’t want to get married. “I don’t want to lock myself into the golden cell of marriage,” she thought.
As time went by, the other village girls started to hate her; she was too good, too beautiful, too true; but nobody’s perfect. They were sure that she was hiding some dark secret, and since they couldn’t find one, they thought it better to create one, through the old ways of gossip. So, it wasn’t long before a rumor found its way to every house in the village. According to it, Erato had fallen in love with a gypsy. When she heard that she just smiled, but her father and brothers were not that amused. For the first time they were really worried. They believed that the whispers of the evil-hearted people were true, and they definitely had to do something about it; but what?
The rumors multiplied by the day. People would find dark secrets where there were none, they would turn their suspicions into facts, and they would start looking at her in a different way. The angel that Erato was would turn into devil before their very eyes, as they’d see what they told them to see, and not what really was. And so, their attitude towards her would gradually change. They wouldn’t talk and smile to her anymore, they would no longer feel touched by the kindness of her heart. But, she wouldn’t change her ways. She’d be helpful and smiling as ever, nice with all, despite their behavior. She thought that if she continued to be her real self, people would start looking at her in the right way again. But the seeds of evil seemed to have taken over everyone’s heart. After a while she was friends only with the gypsies. They loved her truly, deeply, even though she no longer had much to offer to them, since her father prohibited her from taking anything from the house and giving it away.
Of course the young men still liked her and flirted with her, but the looks they gave her talked of lust and not of love. All the innocence was gone. They would not longer see her as a human being, but as a simple body; and a beautiful one at that. Her body, that’s what they talked about all the time.
Her once smiling face has started wearing the mask of sorrow. Her life that used to be full of joy was now covered with gray clouds, and it just seemed to fade away.
She would spend more and more time at the gypsy camp. Only there she felt alive. The gypsies, being simple and hospitable people, made her feel like one of their own. She would teach the children how to read and write, and they would make her smile. She liked that kind of life, with all its simplicity. “They only know how to live the here and now, that’s why they appear to be full of life,” she would think quietly at night. But, that wasn’t the only point in which they were different from the other people. The gypsies were always looking for a reason to be happy and to have fun. They didn’t care if they were rich or poor and they never even seemed to ask for something more than what they had. Oh yes, they were so much different.
She’s spent many a night with her good friends sitting around the open fire and singing, or getting up and performing with them some wild dances, which carried behind them centuries of tradition and history.
Willingly or not Erato, leading that way of life, kept feeding with ill comments the mouths of the people. And even those of them she once helped, now wanted to have nothing to do with her. The other girls felt happy with her sorrow. With their poisonous tongues, they’ve managed to put her aside; with their devilish ways, they paved the way to her total destruction. All the mothers that once thought of her as an angel, now talked about the cursed one, and as for the young men –we’ve already said this- they would only think of ways to conquer her body. Just a few old women still loved her. For when they were sick, only she would look after them. She would bring them medicine and cook for them, and she would spend many sleepless nights by their side.
One dark night, as she was going back home from the gypsy camp, she heard footsteps approaching her from behind. And at the very next moment she felt a strong hand grabbing her from the waist, and another closing her mouth, so that she couldn’t scream. “Tonight you’re going to be mine, you bitch,” someone whispered in her ear, and she recognized the voice at once. It was Andrew; her brothers’ best friend. Tying her hands at the back and covering her mouth with a scarf, he led her to a remote olive field. Once there he pushed her down at the roots of an olive tree and wildly raped her. Her body watered the tree with the red fluid of her lost innocence. As the beast of a man left, he took with him a life and left behind a human rug.
Almost crawling, feeling too weak to walk, Erato found her way home. She woke up her family and told them what happened. As she finished her story, her mother started to say something, but she just didn’t manage to do so. At that very moment Erato’s father hit her fiercely with an open palm on both cheeks, calling her a cursed one, because as he said she disgraced their name. Her mother sat still and heavy on a chair weeping, while her brothers were trying hard to hide a smile. They were sure, that Andrew was not to blame for anything, since he was a good and honest man. Probably, “the bitch made it all up,” they thought.
Erato started shedding bitter tears, crying out that she was innocent, but her mother did not have the strength to stand up for her, and as for the men they were sure of her guilt. After some time, when all was still and quiet, her father who spend the whole time thinking about what to do, suddenly looked at her in hatred and said: “You no longer have a place in this house; you can leave.” She stared back at him fixedly and made him turn his face down to the ground, as in her eyes he read her contempt. Then she got up decidedly, bid farewell her poor mother, and started of to go and find the only good and openhearted people she knew, her gypsy friends.
The next morning, as the news travel fast in the villages, everyone was talking about what has happened; and everyone would ask Andrew why on earth that evil girl tried to destroy his reputation. He, the big liar and hero of the day, told them that she asked him to marry her, but he refused; thus she decided to take revenge. Right next to him stood her brothers giving credit to his words.
And that is how that angel of a girl, suddenly became the bride of Satan. The priest every Sunday at church in his speech would advice the young girls to be faithful in god and virtuous otherwise they would too face the ill fate of the cursed one. And they would listen to him carefully, in order to have something to talk about and laugh afterwards.
Erato, now living with her gypsy friends, felt happy, and thought that she was safe and out of harm’s way. But, she had no idea of the ways that evil works in the hearts of men. Most of the people of the village, headed by her own brothers and father, Andrew and the priest, would every Sunday meet and discuss ways of making the gypsies go away from their land. “What are the devils doing in our fields, in our houses?” her father would ask aloud. “We must drive them away!”
One night, a few weeks after the rape, Erato in fear and in joy, found out that she was pregnant. At that very night a shepherd went running to the village square, screaming that someone has stolen three of his sheep. The evil men found the opportunity they looked for for so long, and so, they put the blame on the gypsies.
Early next morning, many men armed-to-kill with guns and knives, started for the camp, to make that poor people go away, no matter what. The gypsies denied that they stole the sheep and simply refused to leave. Andrew, drawing out his knife, was the first to start the dance of murder, and the others followed. Surprised and unarmed the poor gypsies started to fall one after the other under the stubs of the murderous knives. Rivers of blood were shed and the land itself seemed to lose its life. The gypsy women mourning their hearts out tried to take the children away. They had to at least save them from the ball of Death.
Only one woman didn’t run away but grabbed a knife and thrown herself into the battle. And as the devil’s best of men, Andrew, was getting ready to slaughter a kid that stayed behind, he felt a knife finding its way deep into his breast. The last thing he saw before breathing his life away was Erato’s blazing eyes. A moment later a bloody coward of a man, reached her from behind and cut her throat. None of the killers, in the mist of battle, was able to see the father-murderer cry.
By noon all the gypsy men were dead or seriously injured. The women were crying about the evil that has befallen them, but they were determined to make life worth living again. According to the legend, one of those women somewhere found a knife that possessed some magic powers. They said that every wound it touched it immediately healed, and that was a sign that their god now lived with them.
They buried Erato at the top of a hill from where she could look at the vastness and the beauty of the world. All around her grave, there appeared on their own dozens of strange and beautiful flowers.
As the legend goes, at the very place that her father killed her, the gypsies opened a well, that all year around pours out sweet water that gives life to the plain.
Her father was tormented for many years by terrible nightmares, and one day they found him with his eyes frightfully open, dead in his bed. The people said that: “He met the Lord of Death, even before he died.”
Both of her brothers were hit by a terrible illness that kept them nailed on their beds till the day they expired.
The priest passed away during one of his passionate speeches in the church, which talked about “the gypsies, the children of Satan, who want to destroy our religion.”
The olive tree under which Erato saw the face of evil and terror got withered, but all year around it bloom some weird-looking poppies.
Erato is the most common name among the girls at the gypsy camp.

Irish Legends: Deirdre & Naoise

Watching a calf being skinned upon the fresh snow and a raven who had come to feast upon the slaughter, Deirdre remarked, "My beloved would be a man who would have hair as black as the raven, cheeks as red as the blood, and a body as white as the snow."
When Conchobhar mac Neasa and the Ulstermen were drinking at the house of the storyteller Feidhlimidh, an unborn baby cried out in the womb of Feidhlimidh's wife. She gave birth to a baby girl, but the druid Cathbadh fortold that the child would cause great slaughter, and the warriors called for her to be put to death. However, Conchobhar said that he would take the child, called Deirdre, and have her fostered in a remote secluded place, by the nurse Leabharcham.
Deirdre grew up to be the most beautiful woman in Ireland. One day, as she watched her foster-father flay a calf in the snow, a raven came down to drink the blood. She remarked that the man of her desires must have hair as black as the raven, cheeks as red as blood and skin as white as the snow. Leabharcham told her that there was indeed such a man, and he was Naoise, one of the Red Branch Knights.
Soon after that, Deirdre managed to meet Naoise, and threatened him with shame and derision if he refused to take her away. Naoise took his two brothers Aindle and Ardan and went with Deirdre to Scotland to escape the vengance of Conchobhar in Ireland. However, when the king of Scotland saw Deirdre and how beautiful she was, he became jealous of Naoise, and they were forced to flee to a lonely island.
Naoise and Deirdre loved each other, but the island was small and miserable, and the Ulstermen took pity on them and begged Conchobhar to relent and allow them to return to Ireland. Conchobhar agreed, and sent three warriors to escort Deirdre and the brothers back to Ireland.
On their arrival at Eamhain Mhacha, however, the king had Naoise, Aindle and Ardan slain by mercenaries, and Deirdre taken captive. The three warriors who had escorted them from Scotland were furious at this, and ravaged the whole province before going to join Queen Meadhbh in Connaught.
Conchobhar forced Deirdre to live with him for a year, and at the end of the year he asked her who she hated most in the world. Deirdre answered Eoghan mac Durthacht, for it was Eoghan who had killed Naoise, and at that Conchobhar announced that she was to now live with Eoghan. Next day, Deirdre was forced to travel in a chariot with Conchobhar on one side of her and Eoghan on the other, and the king mockingly remarked that she looked like a sheep between two rams.
At this, Deirdre, who could take no more, jumped out of the chariot and dashed her head to pieces on a rock. She was buried in the same graveyard as Naoise, and a tree grew out of each of their graves. In time, the branches of the two trees intertwined, showing that even death could not kill their great love for one another.

Source: ThinkQuest

Chinese Folktales: Aniz the Shepherd

Today i invite you for a journey back in time in order to "hear" the story of Aniz The Shepherd:

Once upon a time a landlord hired a shepherd boy whose name was Aniz. He was very well liked. What people liked most of all was to listen to him playing the flute. His flute looked very simple, no more than a length of bamboo; but in his hands it became a wonderful instrument. Whenever they were free, people would sit around Aniz and entertain themselves by listening to him play. The landlord was heartily sick of both the boy and his flute. He was constantly finding fault with him and scolding him, "You little wretch! Do I pay you to sit there playing the flute?" In point of fact, Aniz' flute-playing did not interfere with his work in the slightest.
One day the landlord found some slight pretext to give Aniz a terrible beating. That was not enough; he was not content until he had driven him out and trampled his flute into little pieces. "Good! I should like to see you play the flute now!"
Poor Aniz left the landlord's house and, with tears trickling down his face, wandered through the streets.
He chanced to meet an old man. "Hello! What's the trouble, young fellow? Who are your parents? Why are you out here all on your own, crying?" the old man asked, stroking Aniz's head.
"Grandpa! I am a shepherd. My name is Aniz. The landlord beat me, drove me out and trampled my lovely flute to pieces..." Aniz began crying again.
"Don't cry, Aniz," said the old man kindly. "Come along and stay with me! I shall show you a way to avenge yourself." He took Aniz to his home. There he used a length of bamboo to make him a new flute which was much better than his old one. He taught him how to play it, and after his lessons with the old man, Aniz could play more beautifully than ever. This time it was not just people who enjoyed his playing; even the various animals in the forest came and sat round him, listening to him quietly and never wanting to leave. As time passed, Aniz and the animals became close friends.
One day the landlord summoned his sons and said, "Last night I dreamt of a beautiful rabbit, white as snow, with a black spot on the top of its head. I liked the look of it very much. You must try your best to catch it for me in the forest."
"Father, we have never even heard of such a rabbit!" his sons replied. "Where can we go to catch it for you?"
"You hopeless creatures! Didn't you hear what I said just now?" cried the landlord in a temper. "Go and look for it. Whoever finds it will inherit all I have when I die."
The eldest son thought to himself, "I am the eldest. I should inherit father's property anyway, whether I catch the rabbit or not. But supposing they..." He stepped forward and said, "Brothers, let me go! I fear no danger, if only I can make father happy!"
He set off on his way looking around him carefully, and after a while an old man came towards him and asked, "Young man, where are you going?" The eldest son told him why he had come.
"Go to the forest then," said the old man, "and look for the rabbit! Aniz is tending my cattle there. Tell him what you want and he'll help you."
The eldest son went into the forest, found Aniz and asked him for his help. "Of course!" Aniz smiled, "I can help you to find the strange rabbit. Come and get it this evening. But you must bring with you a thousand strings of cash to pay for it."
The eldest son reckoned gleefully, "Compared with the property I am going to inherit, a thousand strings of cash are nothing!" In the evening he returned to the forest with the money and found Aniz sitting on a tree stump, playing his flute. All the little animals were squatting round him entranced, pricking up their ears to listen to the music. The eldest son saw the white rabbit among them at once. It really did have had a tiny black spot on the top of its head.
Aniz saw the rabbit too. He put down his flute, stretched out his hand, took hold of it by its long ears and handed it to the eldest son. "Here you are. Hold it tightly! If it escapes, it's none of my business."
The eldest son paid the money, thanked Aniz profusely and set off home with the little white rabbit. He was about to leave the forest when he heard Aniz playing the flute again. As soon as the rabbit heard the music, it burst from his hand and ran for all it was worth. The eldest son searched for it for a long time but could not find any trace of it. In the end he gave up and went to see Aniz again.
"The white rabbit has run away. What can I do?" he asked.
Aniz answered, "There is nothing I can do about it. Didn't I warn you a moment ago to hold it tightly? It's no use blaming me."
The eldest son had no alternative but to go home empty-handed and tell his story to the landlord.
The second son said, "Father, don't worry. I'll go and catch it tomorrow." Next day, the second son went to try his luck and met the same fate as his elder brother -- time wasted and another thousand strings of cash down the drain. On the third day, the youngest son went, but he fared no better.
It made the landlord very angry to watch his three sons lose three thousand strings of cash like this, without so much as a piece of fluff to show for it.
"You fools!" he cried. "You worthless pack of fools! Tomorrow I shall go and catch it myself!"
So the following day the landlord went into the forest. When Aniz spotted him, his eyes blazed with hatred. Before the landlord could open his mouth, Aniz took out his flute and began playing. All the beasts of the forest -- rabbits, bears, snakes, wolves, foxes and many different sorts of birds -- came and encircled the landlord. Terror drove the last drop of color from his cheeks. He fell to his knees in despair and entreated Aniz, "My lord, save me ! Save me!"
"Landlord! Do you remember Aniz? At one sound from my flute, these animals will eat you alive!"
"Alas... Ah! My lord! Don't treat me as once I treated you!" He lay prostrate at Aniz' feet and sobbed, "I promise to give you anything you want. Don't let them... I'm so scared...."
"Very well. I will spare your wretched life this once. But you must never bully poor folk again! If you don't turn over a new leaf, I won't be so easy on you next time. And when you get home, you must give half of all your worldly goods to the poor villagers. Is that clear?"
"Yes! Yes!" The landlord rose to his feet and fled in abject terror. He followed Aniz' instructions and distributed half of his estate to the poor. That made Aniz more popular than ever.

Source: Folktales from China

The Village's Fool

For today here's one of my very own stories that still needs a lot of work to even coming close to be good. This is the story of The Village's Fool:

“She’s a weird one, alright,” the women thought at the very moment she was born. She was a girl unlike any other they had ever seen; with big shiny eyes, that scared the shit out of them all, but with a serene face.
As the story usually goes, time passed by in a flash and soon enough she has turned out to be a very beautiful little lady. She’d never speak ill of anyone and they’d all think of her as a very very nice girl.
Evangeline was like a blonde vision that has enchanted the whole village through. She would be invited all the time at all the houses, and she’d never refuse. She was a girl full of joy that every couple wished as their own.
But on a dark spring night, when she was at the age of ten, something really bad happened; something that would change her life forever. The story goes that, as she was walking in the fields she heard a deafening and frightening noise and the sounds of running feet; and there appeared in front of her a frightening creature, which took over her mind and soul. Some say that it was the goblins she had seen, and some others that the spirits of the land were the ones to invade the poor girl’s being. What is the truth, and what is the lie, none of us knew. What we all did know is that since that damned night, Evangeline’s life had changed for good.
That beautiful girl ever since had madness printed in her gaze. Her eyes were like glass marbles, the ones we used to play with when we were kids, and her smile and serenity have faded away. She looked taken over by fury all the time, and whoever tried to touch her would go away bleeding. “A thousand demons, a legion, have taken over her,” the priest would say praying for the evil to depart.
They tried to read the demons out of her through the Holy Book but failed. They even tried to exorcise the devil that has taken over her mind, but did nothing. She scared them all away, when she screamed into their faces: “How can your filthy souls, bring peace in mine?”
As the time went by, she started to move all the more away from her family, as they’d gotten tired of her and they didn’t want her to live in the house anymore. So, they made her sleep in the barn. As for the people of the village, the ones that not long ago adored her, they now talked about Crazy Evangeline, that curse of a girl that disturbed the peace of the place. Following the priest’s advice they decided to drive her to exile. So, they found a long deserted old hut outside the village, and turned it into her house. Her abode. And they prohibited the children from getting close to her. Only her poor mother would visit her every day with a plate of food, feeling sad about the ill fortune of the girl.
That remote place, so close to the village, but actually in the wilderness, is where Evangeline grew up to be an even more beautiful adolescent girl. Every day she would take long walks into the fields and the neighboring woods, trying to put out the flames that burned in her soul. And every now and then when she’d accidentally meet somebody from the village, that person would run away speechless and scared, and praying not to have been touched by the evil that was in the girl. The only ones that after a while dared get close to her were the children, but only to have fun. She didn’t mind them; she smiled at their jokes. More and more often a brave kid would dare talk to her, even though he could feel his soul shivering like a leaf in the wind. At times like that she would feel calm and peaceful, and her inner demon would seem to have fallen asleep. But that happened in such rare occasions that most of the time she simply felt miserable.
As she confessed to her mother one day, strange visions haunted her sleep each and every night. Once she would see an angel pulling her up towards heaven and at the very next moment a demon would bring her back to earth. Once she would feel herself flying and then crashing into hell.
On the 15th of August, Virgin Mary’s day, everyone saw her going into the church, and they were so scared as if they saw the coming of the dead. The priest stopped the sermon and in blinding fury barked an order to the faithful to tie her down, hands and legs, and then carry her to that dirty hut, where she truly belonged. The villagers were fast to obey, since the word of the priest is the word of god, and you can’t go against that. Just a little girl, no more than eight years of age, dared open her mouth and say: “But, good Jesus said that we should love them all,” and then run and caught the shaking right hand of Evangeline. Her mother dragged her away at once and slapped her on the face, but the little one insisted that she loved Evangeline, and that they should let her be. As she started crying, to their horror, they saw the crazy girl smiling at her sweetly and weeping the tears from her eyes with a light touch. Then with an overpowering move she broke free from her captors and started off in a slow pace for the fields. The little girl, Helena, felt at peace from that moment on.
The very next day everyone in the village would talk about the miracle that’s taken place; Helena, who suffered from consumption, was suddenly healed. All would thank the Virgin for the miracle, but not the girl itself; she would say that Evangeline did it all. And from that day, she’d become her one and only friend. Every now and then she would run away from the village to go and meet her. And their meetings were full of laughter and joy; so much joy that the demons residing into the mad girl’s mind would hide away. As for Helena, every time she met Evangeline she felt more and more peaceful and happy; but no one could suspect where all that happiness came from.
Long days and longer days have passed. Helena really loved Evangeline. And she loved her struggle, her fight with the demons, her agony to tame them. Evangeline little by little came to possess some amazing powers. A fantastic blue aura seemed to cover her whole body every night, blessing it with some kind of magic. Every sick animal she’d touch it would heal at once, every little flower she’d smile to would bloom, even out of season. And on a very dark night she crept into the village and healed an old woman that was burning in high fever and everyone thought that she was sure to die. The day after, that lady would say that in her sleep she saw Evangeline coming and caressing her face, but no one would pay attention to her words, thinking that the fever has harmed her mind. As for her, just as she managed to stand again on her own feet, she went out to find her savior and thank her. She offered her some bread and cheese, and a couple of pomegranates; the poor woman had nothing else to give.
Well, after that Evangeline felt her spirits lifting and decided to go to the village once again, just to see how they’d receive her this time. But just as they saw her coming, they started cursing and throwing rocks at her. Only the kids would stand out for her. “Go away from here, you witch, the devil has no place in this village,” the grown ups would scream and hit her. Bleeding on the body, but most importantly in the soul, she started running away to save herself from the wild crowd. And some of the children run away with her too, trying to protect her, unafraid of their parents’ curses and threats.
No matter how much that incident hurt her at the time, afterwards, thinking about it she would feel happy since, because of what happened, she had now found many friends among the children, and her inner demons have started slowly to die away. At nights her sleep would be upset by terrible nightmares, but feeling at last serene and happy, she could drive them away.
Little by little her face and soul began to shine with the glow of goodness, and the villagers started hearing rumors about a weird calm light that came out from the crazy girl’s hut every night. The children, who knew better, would listen to them and smile. “Little mother” or “Big sister” is how all of them now called Evangeline, who every day offered them joy and serenity, that the grown ups would never cherish.
On a sunny hot afternoon the teacher noticed that all the children of the village were gone, and no one knew where. The same happened the next day, and the one after. So, he decided to spy on them, to see where they were spending those hot and windless days. As he followed them, the road and the kids led him to the crazy girl’s hut, and he almost had a stroke from the shock. All of the young ones were there, sitting around her, listening attentively to -no doubt about that- her blasphemous words. Their faces seemed really peaceful, as they sat there together in a sweet embrace, while the demon in the middle was trying to lure them into the path of evil.
“This witch is very powerful,” he thought, as he rushed to break the news to the priest. They had to find a way to get rid of that little demon, because if they didn’t she could take over the village and lead them all to destruction. It’s not easy to find a solution to a problem that big. They thought hard and thought long, but reached no decision. At last the priest breathed out loud and said: “Teacher, for the benefit of the village and the sake of the good Christians, we’ll have to commit murder, and may the Lord forgive us.”
A bit after midnight they started off for Evangeline’s hut, intending to burn it and her out. As they approached the place they moved more slowly and quietly, so she wouldn’t hear the footsteps. They looked inside through the only window and there she was, sitting on the floor with her eyes closed, as a blue aura surrounded her whole being. “The color of Satan,” said the priest, and quietly, along with the teacher, he started pouring gasoline all around the wooden hut. When everything was ready he made the sign of the crucifix and prayed to the Lord for forgiveness, and lighted up the match. The hut was on fire at no time at all, and in a few moments nothing but ash remained. Right then, they felt the earth trembling, and saw with their very own eyes a sandy blue light rocketing from the ashes of the hut into the sky, flying all over the village and then disappearing into the depths of heaven.
They left for the village speechless, scared to death from the terrible miracle they’d just witnessed. But, as they arrived there they met the real face of terror. A terror that had spread its wings almost in every house, as all of the children in the village had suddenly and all at once died. The dreadful mourning shook the whole valley, and people from the neighboring villages came to see what had happened. And in a single moment they were panic stricken too.
At the first light of day they started off for the church to continue with their mourning and to complain to god, about the big and unjustified evil that had befallen them. But, as they entered the temple and headed for the icon of the Virgin to pay their respects, a new uproar arose. The eyes of the Virgin were wet with tears, and as they rolled down they watered a blonde hair braid. In a single moment every single man and woman was left speechless, struggling for words, stoned by pure terror. Only the old woman that the crazy girl had once healed dared to speak out loud: “This braid belongs to the girl, Evangeline. You’d be damned; you’ve killed your children with your bare hands and empty heads.”

The Tiger King's Skin Cloak

Reading myths and legends from all around the world has always been one of my favourite pastimes. Some of the those stories i like a lot, some not so much. Today i give you a myth that comes from Mongolia that i really love.

Long, long ago there lived in the Land of the Khans a poor Alad [a serf or a herdsman in the days of feudalism]. His wife bore three children, but unfortunately they all died. No further children were born to the couple and they lived a solitary and wretched life.
Then unexpectedly one winter's day the Alad's wife gave birth to a boy. The couple were overjoyed, but, they began to wonder how they were going to raise their child. Except for a cow and two mountain goats they had nothing of any value. What were they to do?
Though distressed they nevertheless went outside their tent to milk the cow for the baby.
The child grew not by the day but by the hour. Before evening he had grown taller and sturdier than a man. Husband and wife were both astonished and delighted. They named their boy Ku-nan, which means Ancient South.
On the very first day Ku-nan ate up a whole goat. On the next day he ate up the other one. The old couple were filled with dismay. One more day, they thought, and even the cow will be done for! And then what will we have to live on?
On the third day Ku-nan said to his mother, "Ah-Ma, we are so poor and we have only a cow left. Let me go and find some work to do. I'm afraid I'll fall ill if I stay at home any longer."
She looked at her son's tall and robust figure and, taking his big hand in her, said in a tearful voice, "My son, what work can you do? Hai! You may perhaps go to the Khan. He may have some work for you." Ku-nan pondered for a while, then agreed.
After taking leave of his parents, he fared forth on an empty stomach. Half way he met with a hungry wolf. As soon as it saw him it jumped on him, but Ku-nan immediately tackled it and killed it. He then skinned it and, making himself a bonfire, roasted the meat and ate it. Having done so, he continued on his way and at dusk reached the Khan's yurt.
The sly old Khan thought of testing Ku-nan's strength. He had a whole cow roasted and invited the lad to eat it. Ku-nan not only ate up all the meat, but gnawed the bones clean, too. The Khan then kept him in his yurt as his personal attendant and bodyguard.
Ku-nan often went with the Khan deep into the forest to hunt, and every time they came home with a full bag. One day, when the two of them, together with some of the Khan's servants, went hunting in the deep reaches of the forest, a huge tiger suddenly leaped out upon them. The Khan was so frightened he broke into a cold sweat. Without a thought for Ku-nan's safety he whipped his horse into a gallop and tore off down the mountain. The Khan's servants fled helter-skelter, covering their heads with their hands. But Ku-nan did not stir. As the tiger sprang upon him he calmly dodged to one side, grabbed one of its hind legs, and swung the beast against a big tree. There was a crash, and the tree leaves fluttered to the ground. The tiger lay motionless on the ground with its stomach ripped open. Ku-nan put the carcass on his back and strode off after the Khan.
When the Khan reached his yurt, he was still in such a state of fright he could not dismount from his horse. Luckily his servants, who had taken to their heels when the tiger appeared, came to his aid and lifted him off his horse. At this moment Ku-nan arrived. When the Khan saw the tiger on Ku-nan's back he panicked. He rushed into his yurt and barred the door. "Hurry! All of you," he bawled. "Defend the door! Don't let the tiger in!" Later when he heard it was a dead tiger Ku-nan had brought, he mustered his courage and came out of his hiding place. Foaming with rage he cursed Ku-nan, using all the foul words he knew, and took the tiger's skin into his yurt.
Once the Khan had the tiger's skin as a mattress, he decided he wanted a cloak made of the Tiger King's skin. Thus he commanded Ku-nan to catch the Tiger King within three days. If he were to fail in his mission the Khan would have him executed. Ku-nan felt very dejected. Where was he to find the Tiger King? It was said that the Tiger King lived in a remote cave in the Northern Mountains, and that there were lots of tigers there in the vicinity. But no one had even been known to reach the place.
The skies grew dark, and Ku-nan returned home feeling very unhappy. He told his parents of what had happened. The old couple were in a quandary. If they were to prevent him from going, they were afraid the Khan would really put their son to death. But if they were to let him go, who could guarantee his safety?
Husband and wife sat facing each other and wept. They made such a to-do that Ku-nan found it hard to come to any decision. Suddenly an old Alad came into their shabby little cottage.
"My lad," he addressed Ku-nan, "don't be downcast. The Tiger King is afraid of a brave man. As long as you keep your native land and your dear ones in mind, you'll be able to overcome any hardship. Go, my lad. I'll give you a dappled pony to ride on. Good luck to you!" The old Alad lightly kissed Ku-nan on his forehead and disappeared. When Ku-nan went outside he saw a dappled pony neighing in his direction.
The skies gradually grew light, and Ku-nan bade his parents goodbye. Taking his bow, arrow-bag and dagger, he mounted his charge and set off on his mission. At first the pony trotted along at a normal pace, but later it broke into a canter, and then a gallop. Faster and faster it went, so fast that Ku-nan could only see the yurts along the road in a blur. After a while the beast slackened its speed. Just then Ku-nan saw near a yurt a wolf just about to attack a little girl. In the nick of time he slipped an arrow into his bow, and let fly. The wolf instantly fell dead on the ground with the arrow in its head.
An old woman ran out from the yurt. When she realized that Ku-nan had saved her grand-daughter's life, she invited him in for a bowl of milk-tea. Before his departure she gave him a sheep-bone and said, "Take it, lad, it'll be of some use to you in the future."
With her gift in hand, Ku-nan vaulted upon his pony and continued his way northwards. As he trotted along the road he found his way blocked by a broad river. Suddenly the water rose and formed great billows. A huge turtle emerged and swam to the river bank. "My lad," it croaked, "you had better turn back. You'll never get across this river."
"Oh, surely," replied Ku-nan. "All difficulties can be overcome."
"Oh, well then, brave lad," the turtle said, "please help me. My left eye aches so badly, I want to have it taken out and replaced with a new one. Please, help me, take it out for me."
"All right, I'll help you."
As soon as Ku-nan looked in his hands. The eye had turned into a pearl! A glowing, flawless precious pearl. After looking at it Ku-nan's eye-sight became very sharp, he could even see a group of yurts in the far distance. Ku-nan then remounted his pony. As though understanding its master's intention, the beast plunged into the water. What a miracle! No sooner had the water touched the precious pearl than it divided to form a transparent wall on either side, leaving a dry path through the center. Ku-nan rode across to the opposite bank of the river without further difficulty. The water then flowed its usual course as if nothing had ever happened.
Ku-nan soon reached the yurts he had seen in the distance. An old shepherd was softly weeping there. He was a pitiful sight. Having dismounted from his pony, Ku-nan addressed him. "Grandpa, what makes you so sad?" he asked. "Please tell me, perhaps I can be of some help to you."
The old shepherd wiped his eyes and sighed. "Young man, even if I tell you, I'm afraid you won't be able to help me. Yesterday my only daughter was carried off by the Tiger King. I don't know whether she's alive or dead now...." The old man again broke into heart-rending sobs.
"Grandpa, don't lose heart," Ku-nan consoled him. "I'm sure your daughter isn't dead. I'm looking for that Tiger King. I'll go there and rescue her."
The old shepherd cheered up. He invited Ku-nan into his tent to have some tea. After his tea, Ku-nan thanked the old man and left.
Before dark Ku-nan arrived at the place where the Tiger King lived. From afar he could see a stone cave up on the mountain. At the entrance were more than ten tigers on guard. As Ku-nan neared the cave, he fished the sheep-bone out of his pocket and threw it to the tigers. He then entered and found the shepherd's daughter. She told him that the tiger King had been out since early morning, and that he had not yet returned, but probably would soon. She thought of hiding Ku-nan, but he refused, suggesting that he first rescue her and take her home. She agreed, and the two of them rode the dappled pony out of the cave. The tigers outside were still fighting over the bone. Ku-nan flourished his whip, and the pony dashed down the mountain like a whirlwind.
Suddenly a gust of wild wind blew from the north. Riding on a yellow cloud, an ogre with the head of a tiger and the body of a man, all covered with golden hair, came chasing down. Ku-nan turned round and let fly an arrow, which pierced the ogre's left eye. The Tiger King roared furiously. He reached out a huge paw and yanked Ku-nan off his charge. Then with a single blow he drove him waist-deep into the ground. Ku-nan instantly wriggled out. With one stroke he smote the ogre neck-deep into the ground, and, without waiting for him to free himself, he swiftly unsheathed his dagger and thrust the blade deep into the ogre's pate. Ku-nan thus ended the Tiger King's life.
He pulled the carcass out of the ground and, dragging it by one leg, caught up with his pony. He and the girl then returned to her home. When the old shepherd saw that Ku-nan had rescued his daughter, he was very happy, and gave him her hand in marriage.
Ku-nan stayed the night in their yurt and, when day grew light, again set off with his wife on their pony. But just as they were preparing to leave they heard a howling wind approaching from the north. Ku-nan turned to look and saw ten or so tigers coming in hot pursuit. They were those he had left fighting over the sheep-bone the day before. Ku-nan hurriedly sent his wife into the yurt. He shot an arrow and killed the tiger in the lead. Then he unsheathed his dagger and strode forward to meet them.
A furious combat ensued. In one breath he slayed seven or eight of them, but the remaining three attacked him with even redoubled fierceness. Ku-nan felt himself utterly exhausted. Just as he was on the point of collapse, the old shepherd, at the head of about ten young lads, rushed to the rescue. They brought with them poles for breaking in horses. They helped Ku-nan catch the three tigers and thus relieved him from danger. He thanked them for their help and gave them all the tigers he had slain. Taking his wife he remounted his pony and proceeded home.
When the Khan saw that Ku-nan had slain the Tiger King and had brought home a beautiful wife besides, he felt very happy and at the same time envious. He ordered Ku-nan's wife to make him a cloak out of the Tiger King's skin, and not to miss a single hair of the pelt. Ku-nan's wife did as the Khan bade her and let her husband take the cloak to him.
When the Khan saw the cloak he was extremely pleased. He thought of showing himself off in his domain in all his majesty. He wanted everybody to know that he, the Khan, possessed a precious cloak made of the Tiger King's skin.
A platform was erected in front of the Khan's yurt. He invited the officials from all over the land of the Khans to eat and drink and carouse. A little way across stood a great multitude of people who had come from every corner of the land to see the Khan's Tiger King cloak.
After a while amidst the blare of music the Khan ambled across the platform with a self-satisfied air. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, and a well-dressed servant climbed up, bearing a yellow bundle. He opened it up and took out the glistening golden colored cloak made of the Tiger King's skin. He paraded it for everyone to see, then helped the Khan to put it on. No sooner had the Khan put on the cloak than he turned into a fierce motley-colored tiger. It made a deafening roar and bounded off the platform and attacked the throng, biting and wounding many people. The officials were so scared they leaped onto their horses and made off for all they were worth.
At that moment Ku-nan fortunately arrived on the scene. When he saw a tiger chasing people and mauling them, he was horrified. He thought of shooting the beast with his arrow, but unluckily he had left his arrow-bag at home; even the dagger was not at his girdle. As he was fumbling helplessly, the tiger suddenly charged in his direction. He stood his ground and waited till the beast had come within reach. Then with the swiftness of an eagle he grabbed its tail, jerked it into the air and in a single breath smote it ten times upon the ground. The tiger lay bruised, maimed and bleeding and soon died. Because the beast was formerly the Khan, people went to bury it.
From then on Ku-nan went out hunting every day, riding his dapple pony, and on his return he would share his kill with poor Alads around the neighborhood. Besides, he often cured the poor of their eye diseases with his precious pearl: as soon as old people looked at it, their dim sight would become clear; as soon as the blind rolled it round the orbit of their eyes, they would be able to see. Thanks to his help the poor Alads began to sing their joyful songs again and their lives became very pleasant.

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