Story: In Pursuit of Water

Jamal was never the brightest kid on the block. He had a habit of getting into trouble by rushing into it headlong.

            “Watch where you’re going!”

            “Clean up your mess!”

            “Jamal don’t touch that!” everyone yelled at him. But he never listened.

One hot summer day, the rains refused to fall. They didn’t fall that day, and they didn’t fall the next, and they didn’t fall for a full week. In fact, the rain stayed in the clouds for weeks, and months. The ground cracked up and the grass withered and died, and the little town had to begin rationing water to make it through the dry season.

Jamal, parched and thirsty, decided that he would begin collecting as much water as he could and store it somewhere safe for himself so that he’d have water whenever he wanted it. First, he collected a great bucket with a sturdy lid, and went about looking for the lost water. In short time, he came upon a water bottle with only the smallest bit of water left in the bottom.

            “This is mine now!” he called, and dumped the water into his bucket.

Next, he came to the trees. Most of their leaves were yellowing and crispy, but under the tall branches, shielded from the majority of the sun, Jamal found a batch of green, healthy leaves.

            There must be water in these leaves, thought Jamal. Trees need water to survive.

So he took the leaves and twisted and twisted them between his fingers until they each produced just the smallest bit of water and he let each drop fall into his pail. Further in, among the trees, Jamal found a puddle by the roots of a large oak. Bending down, he could see that the water was murky and filled with dirt.

            Well I can’t drink this! he thought, but he scooped up what he could in his hands, picking out the leaves and the sticks and dumped it into his bucket. Water is water after all.

In short time, he came upon a neighbor’s house, and in front of that house he found a bucket half full of colorful, soapy water.

            That’s just what I need! Of course this clean water will clean off the dirty water I’ve got in my bucket. I’m a genius!

So Jamal took the soapy water and dumped it into his bucket, and at this point he had a nice, large amount of water all for himself. Thinking that his bucket would surely last him through the summer, he decided to hide it in his special spot in the maple tree. Holding the bucket in his arms, he tried to climb the tree. With only one hand and his feet free, he found it nearly impossible to make any progress with his ascent.

            “Jamal! What are you doing with that bucket?”

He turned around. His sister Tiara was standing there with her hands on her hips. Of course she thought he was being ridiculous, she just didn’t understand his plan.

            “I’m going to take this bucket right here,” he shifted the pail in his arms, “and hide it in this tree here so that I’ve always got water to drink when I get thirsty. I found all this myself and I plan to drink it.”

Tiara was much too familiar with her brother’s antics to be surprised by this, but she asked him, “Wouldn’t it be easier to tie that bucket on your back to carry it up?”

Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of this? So Jamal grabbed a length of cord and tied to bucket to his back, wrapping the rope around his midsection and knotting it. He climbed and climbed the tree until he felt safe within its branches and he looked back down at his sister. She was drinking a bottle of cool, clear water.

“You know, we have bottled water right? The water in our house may be rationed but the store has plenty of water,” she said as she turned and left.

        Jamal was livid and in horrible frustration he threw his bucket to the ground, spilling his hard gathered water everywhere. Just then, he heard a thunderclap, and the skies opened up rain upon his neighborhood. Soaking wet and sitting in the tree, Jamal considered how his day had developed. Then, feeling utterly defeated, he climbed back down from his tree, walked to his house, and got his own bottled water from the fridge.

Author's Note: This story was based on stories from West Africa. In the original story, the trickster Anansi gets mad at all humans and goes about collecting up all his wisdom in the world and putting it into a clay pot, he then tries to take this pot up a tree to keep it from humans forever when his son says that he should strap the pot to his back so that he can climb the tree more easily. Realizing he hadn't collected all the knowledge after all, Anansi, throws the pot down, breaking it, and re-releasing all his wisdom back to the world and mankind. I thought using water and a little boy who was more just a  bit dumb than a malicious trickster like Anansi was a funny turnabout.

Photos: Jamal's disgusting water, and Tiara, drinking her own water and being smug about it

 West African Folktales by William H. Barker and Cecilia Sinclair (1917)

Reading Notes: West African Tales B

This story is going to pull together multiple of the west african stories. This will be about a very naive person just trying to get along. There should be three episodes.

Jamal is a bit dumb but well intentioned.  One day all the fruit trees dried up and everyone longs for fruit.  His sister, Tiara, finds an great avacado tree standing by itself which bunches of avacados. She wacks the tree with a big stick several times and avacados fall down. She gathers them and goes home. Jamal tries to do the same but instead of a stick he rams a car into it, knocking the tree down and ruining everything.

Another time, he tells a lizard his best secret. Shortly after he asks the lizard if he has told everyone his own secret and the lizard, as lizards do, bobs it head up and down. He thinks this means the lizard has told and tries to kill the lizard for it but the lizard gets away. He swears revenge on the creature. 

the third story has yet to be worked out. I'll come up with it over the next day.

(Crashed car, source)

West African Folktales by multiple authors

Reading Notes: West African Stories A

Although I love these stories I don't find any of them immediately inspiring me for a retelling. The best I have, I think is the pot of wisdom myth. Anansi is offended by men and takes to gathering all knowledge he'd taught back into his pot. He then tries to hide it in a big tree so no one can have it but can't get it up there because his pot is in the way of his climbing. His son then tells him to swing to pot around to his back to climb. He realizes his son still has wisdom he doesn't, smashes the pot, and releases wisdom to the world. It's very short and simple which means I have a lot of room to work with. At the moment I have the idea that someone is collecting something so that no one else can have them. Maybe pokemon cards or the like. When he finds someone else has a very rare object that he covets, he gets angry and scatters all his collectibles away into the sea.

It's a very vague story at the moment. After reading part B, I'll either end up switching to a different story or going ahead and fleshing this one out more.

(image of a pouting child)

West African Folktales by multiple authors

Story: The Tree of the Empty Lot

     The sun was bright and hot as Eve dug the grave for her precious dog, Adam. A deep pit in the backyard swallowed him up and over the grave she planted the small seedling she had picked out especially for this occasion. It was the fresh beginning of a new summer and the blazing sun beat down on the little tree. Her only memento of her best friend, she watered it tenaciously until it had grown into a thing of beauty – a sturdy tree that bore sweet apples, a tribute to her lost pup.

     But she was young and restless, and after a few years she moved from that place. The little tree had grown strong alongside her and now it stood strong for her, weathering the harsh sunlight rooted in the dry, cracking earth, standing tall and proud for Eve's friend, Adam. No new owner moved to the house and there the tree stood, tall and alone, as weeds grew and trash collected in the yard. The sun shone hot for many summers and the rain refused to fall and the tree sagged under the oppression. The leaves yellowed and the roots ached for nourishment but Adam's tree never wavered, always producing fresh apples and shading the grave of its ward. For years it stood sturdy as Adam's body returned to the earth until it was the only physical monument to testify to his existence.

     In time, a group of children, still learning their times-tables, saw the glistening apples hanging from its branches and approached. Pulling down the sweet, red fruit, the three boys noticed how the branches hung desolately in the sun and agreed among themselves to bring it water. Gathering three buckets which sat long abandoned in the yard, they trekked to their own houses, each filling their pail with cool, clean water.

     In the trek, the first child found a cat, also suffering from the summer heat. Forgetting the tree, he stopped and tipped the bucket so the cat could drink. Forgetting the weight of the bucket, he accidentally tipped it over and, although the cat drank plentifully from what spilled to the ground, there was none left for the tree. The second child walked further and, about halfway to the house, he found a bush in dire need of water. Being kindhearted, he stopped and dumped his bucket out for the bush, and so the bush drank but the tree went thirsty. The third child, in all his strength, carried his bucket the farthest but, when he had gotten to the edge of the property, he saw a man, destitute and thirsty, peeking just out from the corner of the window inside the house. Although no one should be living there for the house was unowned, this man had hidden there from the sun as he had no home of his own. Being gentle and sweet, the child brought his bucket over to the house and left it beside the door. Tentatively, the man opened the door and took the bucket inside, drinking generously of the water for he had none of his own. The water had long since been cut off from this abandoned house.

     Forgetting Adam's tree but having done three good deeds, each child was satisfied with himself and left. Adam’s tree remained, thirsty and slowly withering, yet resolute to the end beneath the evening sky. The man in the house, having watched the boys and their efforts, saw the tree and its shining apples. Pitying it, he stepped outside and, with the last of the water remaining in the bucket, dumped it at the base of the tree. It was a sprinkling, only, but the tree, determined to forever protect the grave over which it stood, gratefully absorbed what it could and survived. In its due course, the harsh summer ended and cool autumn finally blessed the tree with much needed rain, bringing it back to life.

     Eventually, another family moved into the house and, seeing the apples, marveled at the beauty of the tenacious tree and took great care of it although they had no knowledge of its purpose. They pruned the weeds from its base and cleaned the garbage from around its roots and daily watered it when none fell from the sky. The tree grew stronger, and its branches blossomed and its apples grew sweeter than ever. Its leaves were broad and green and soft apple blossom petals adorned Adam's grave, now hidden beneath the lush green grass below the tree.

     One spring, when the tree was at its most beautiful and the blossoms rained down upon the yard like soft pink snow, the sky fell dark. The winds picked up and the clouds crowded among themselves and a tornado touched down upon the neighborhood. Swirling and angry, it lifted the tree from its roots and flipped it onto its side in the yard. When the funnel had fled and the skies cleared, the family emerged from their shelter to see the destruction. Having nothing more to give to the tree that had once stood over Adam’s grave, they cut it down and the planks they made into a house for their new dog.

     Adam's grave now stands bare, forgotten among the grass in the yard. His successor, Chris, stands watch over the family, guarding his house and the lot from all threats to come.

(image of an apple tree, standing alone)

Author's note: This story was massively rewritten from the original. I wanted to translate the story of Lot and the Tree of Adam into a suburban setting that seemed ordinary next its ancient sacred source material. In the story, the tree is planted over the grave of the ancestral Adam, and Lot has to water the tree to atone for his sins. At every turn he finds that he is thwarted in this endeavor by the devil who keeps drinking his water in the guise of a poor peasant. Because he failed his task out of kindness to thirsty strangers, angels ended up watering the tree and Lot was forgiven. Later, the tree is cut down and used to make the cross that Jesus died on. In my story, I replaced Lot with the three children who lived in the neighborhood. They weren’t atoning for anything. They just wanted to do a good deed. Because they’re children, however, they weren’t exactly super resolute in their duty and forgot that they were supposed to water the tree. The homeless man stands in for the angels when he sees that the water was meant for the tree and gives it his last bit from the bucket.

Lot and the Tree of the Cross by J. E. Hanauer 

Reading Notes B: The Tree of Lot

I've decided to scrap the whole of the egyptian myth cause I really wasn't feeling it. I've decided to go with the tree of Lot which I got instant inspiration from.

This starts with Seth planting a tree over Adam's grave. Later, in order to repent for his sins, Lot must water the tree but is constantly spoiled by the devil who keeps drinking his water. Angles water it and later it's cut down to build the cross of christ.

I'm thinking of having this be completely metaphorical. A young woman who lives alone has just lost her first pet, her precious dog, Adam. To commemorate him, she buys an apple sapling and plants it over his grave in her backyard. In the heat of the summer she keeps trying to water it but her hose breaks, she slips and drops her bucket of water and forgets to water it cause she has to shower, and finally the water to her house is cut off during a drought. She's very afraid that the little tree is going to dehydrate in the sun but when she wakes up one morning the rain has generously watered her tree.
Later, she grows older and has to move. While the new patrons are in the house, a great tornado rips to tree nearly out of the ground. They end up having to cut it down but they love the wood so much they use it to build a dog house for their new dog.

Reading Notes: Tale of Osiris A&B

I think I'm going to base this one in a typical American suburb. There's going to be a group of kids playing a game. Osiris will be the playground monitor, keeping peace in the kingdom, and Set is a little troublemaker who somehow disables the playground monitor and runs roughshod over the playground with his troublemaker friends. While Osiris is out of commission, Isis, his friend, is desperately trying to get him to the school nurse. Meanwhile, Isis's little brother Horus teams up with his own friends to try to take back the playground from the tyranny of Set. After a set of playground wars, Horus and his friends win and Horus is designated the new playground monitor.

All of this is pretty vague in my head so I'm not 100% committed to it but its a starting point at least. May end up changing either details or the basic premise of the retelling but it'll be something along this vein.

(Kingston Elementary School Park, William J. Kemble) 

Egypt: King of the Dead, Donald Mackenzie 

Feedback Focus

Personally, I find that reading out loud and writing my comments as I go is the easiest and most effective way for me to focus on a story. When reading out loud I generally grab my dog and read to her. She's not very attentive but it feels more productive and less silly than reading out loud by myself in my room. I actually already use the reading out loud technique when reading really complicated articles  for other classes like my social theory class. Sometimes it's very easy to miss a sentence, to lose focus and daydream, or just not understand a jumble of word salad if you only try parsing it out in your head. Reading out loud keeps me focused and critical.

I generally use a slightly different form of the copy-paste and delete technique. I generally follow the copy-paste, but I don't delete every paragraph once I'm done, I just add my notes in the middle. This is pretty helpful especially on a second reading because it's really easy for me to forget what I just read and have to read it over. If I already have short notes for it, I can remember much more easily.

The timer technique really seemed more bothersome than helpful. I always find myself with a couple minutes leftover after I'm done reading. Furthermore I also find it hard to concentrate on something for a full ten minutes. My mind constantly wanders any time I'm doing anything and I think setting a timer for myself makes me concentrate more on the timer and in some weird way I focus too much on focusing to actually read well. The other two techniques work much better.

(focusing is hard, wikipedia)

Story: The Crow and the Prisoner

Desperate and alone she waited in that stinking hovel. Carried off by her scorned ex-lover and doomed to die in this prison in the woods. Her father, a brave and glorious knight, surely he was looking for her; surely he’d come to find her before she died. That man whom she’d once sworn to marry, he’d left her with little food and only a dog bowl of water. She slept on the dirt and made waste into a shallow hole in the ground. No body kept her company save the light of the moon. She sat at the low window to her prison and watched its slow crawl across the night sky. In the light of the moon, a shadow flickered.

Swooping fast past the prison she caught only a glimpse but she called out, “Oh! Brave sir, or kind madam please do me pity and find me here. I have been taken by the man who swore to love me and am left here to die! If you do love riches my father, the knight Gerald will surely supply them for he must very much want me back!”

            At this the shadow, not a man nor a woman, but a crow circled back to alight on the window sill. Wondering, it cocked its head and her, disappointed, turned away from the visitor.

            “Oh but a crow,” said sighed. “Although you are a large and beautiful bird you cannot pull the bars from these cages. Perhaps though, you may give me a bit of company for I am most desperately lonely in this cage.”

            Turning the her, the crow stare and opened its beak wide and spoke, “Dear madam I may not be strong enough to free you from your prison but I am a teller of tales. If you should listen, perchance I could provide you comfort in your dark time.

            And with little else to do, the young woman agreed and as she sat upon the dirt floor the crow began his first tale.

            A carpenter, a goldsmith, a tailor, and a hermit went camping one night in the woods and as they sat ‘round their campfire they discussed who might take watch against the bandits and creatures of the night. Being of strong and sturdy conviction, the carpenter did agree to take first watch and, as his companions fell asleep, he soon took to carving to keep him occupied and alert. He was quick and sure, and soon from a large block of wood the visage of a woman was hewn and kept him company through his watch, but soon his shift was over and the goldsmith took his place. Finding before him a beautiful figure, he was amazed and, admiring its beauty, committed to making a glittering set of gold jewelry with which to adorn her figure. As soon as he was finished and fast asleep the tailor rose to take his watch and, finding a striking woman decked in gold, he set about making her a fine set of clothes to complement her beauty. As he slept and at last the hermit did wake, the last man exclaimed to find a well adorned and lovely woman standing among them at the camp. He, at once, used his ancient magic to bring her now to life and, as the other men woke, they all found among them a beautiful, living woman brought forth from their combined labors through the night.

            Immediately the carpenter laid claim to her, “She is mine for I carved her body from the wood. I have done the bulk of the work and now I will take her as my wife.”

            The goldsmith, in anger fired back, “I have given her gold and jewels for her person! Having invested the most money into her I must have the most steadfast claim.”

            Not to be left out, the tailor exclaimed “If not for me she would stand before us naked and ashamed. I have given her dignity in clothes and so her virtue belongs to me!”

            The hermit, for his part, said “I am the one who has brought her to life. She belongs to me and no other. If not for my magic, we would be arguing for a lifeless statue now.”

            Among the arguing, the woman stood listening, and she realized that none of these men cared of her opinion towards them. These men disgusted her with their entitlement. They knew that she now lived but asked neither for her opinion nor her name. And as they argued she stole away into the night, belonging never to them but to herself now. And they did not realize till morning that their prize was gone and by then she was too far away for them to pursue.

            As the crow finished his tale he looked down to see the maiden sleeping peacefully upon the dirt floor and, again, he flew off into the night.

            As the morning sun arose and the woman awoke to find herself alone again in her wretched prison she began to weep for she believed she would never be free as the woman from the story. But as she cried, her voice was carried on the wind and soon was drowned out by thundering hoof beats. In fear and excitement, she rose to the window to see her father, dressed in shining armor, a regiment at his back, and a talking crow upon his shoulder. In short time they pried the bars from her hovel and she ran to her father, clinging to him in his armor.

            “Thank you little friend,” she said to the bird. “I thought you had abandoned me but you have brought my salvation. As promised you shall have your pick of whatever riches you want of our estate and are welcomed to live among us at your leisure.”

            And the crow took to living among them as a storyteller, giving company to the lonely, and hope to the hopeless.

(carving of a woman, pixabay)

Author's Note: Okay I really wanted to make this one longer and have the crow relate multiple stories to her as he did in the original tale but I clearly didn't have the room for that. I couldn't smash the told stories down into a paragraph like I had wanted so I just told one story and stretched it out a bit longer. I think the lead up to the story took longer than I thought it would but I got this in just under 1000 so I'm happy with how it turned out.

 The Tooti Nameh or Tales of a Parrot, by Ziya'al-Din Nakhshabi (1801)

Reading Notes: Tales of a Parrot B

A short bit of notes since i set up most of my story yesterday, sorting through the second half of the stories for one i like.

the third story will be the nobleman who concealed a snake in his sleeve. this story is one of being taken hostage but, in the end, destroying their captor.

most of these stories will be minimally changed besides being shortened considerably. this ends with the woman being killed but that would be a kind of terrible end for the story. i'll just have her be rescued by a search party and the crow can tell them all of the whereabouts of her captor.

(African grey parrot, web source)

 The Tooti Nameh or Tales of a Parrot, by Ziya'al-Din Nakhshabi (1801)

Reading Notes: Tales of a Parrot

This starts out as a parrot that can make prophecies. Parrots are an obvious choice for fortune tellers as they are one of the few animals that can mimic human speech. I may change this to a crow since they can also mimic speech and I just really like crows.

If I want to fit in not only the background information but also probably 3 of the stories from this collection I will have to make each section very short. I will need: Introduction -> Story 1 -> Story 2 -> Story 3 -> Conclusion. This will probably take the full 1000 words.

I'm also thinking, rather than an adulterer, this will be a story of a captured young girl, who begs the crow at the window to her room to tell her stories. The crow, being gentle and kind, obliges and tells her stories every night before she sleeps until, in the end, she is rescued.

I'll use the story of the carpenter, goldsmith, taylor, and hermit for one story. The beginning will stay mostly the same but in the end, rather than a tree saving the wooden woman, I think she will simply refuse to be kept prisoner by any of them and will disappear into the night. This should give the imprisoned girl hope for escape.

The Fowler, the Parrot, and her young ones is another tale of imprisonment. These go nicely with my original theme so I will probably use this one unless I find a better one later in the text.

For the third story I will probably look through the second half of the reading tomorrow.

(Manuscript containing Tales of the parrot, 18th century, RCP archives) 

 The Tooti Nameh or Tales of a Parrot, by Ziya'al-Din Nakhshabi (1801)

Story: Jesus Christ - Pro Skater

The most righteous of skaters did come one day to the skate park next to the school and he did have the most wicked kickflips of all time and all were amazed and came to see.

And lo, he said to those skaters who idled there, “You, John and Simon and Peter, follow me and I will teach you how to bust some sick air over on the rail.”

And verily twelve of them did congregate because he was indeed busting some sick air over on the rail and they declared him Master of the Skate Park and promised that they would follow him. Now Jesus and his bros did skate often at the park and straightway many came to them so much that the park grew overfull. They came unto him with their less than gnarly tailspins and their total wipeouts, and they did plead that he should teach them to bang out some perfect ollies. And he did for he had love for even the poser and the newbie.

And the Pharisees, who pleased themselves to skate there after school, saw him do these things and they grew angry. And they asked him why he should invite all the multitudes to the park when a good many of them should not even know how to stay on the board and Jesus said unto them,

“Should the child crawl fresh from the cradle and forthwith know how to fliptrick? Did your brothers refuse to teach you even when you fell and wept? I do not call the many to arrive here at the skatepark but as they arrive I shall teach them for the half-pipe is not only for the few who know how to ride it now, but also those who may learn it in time.”

And with this he shamed them and they were bitter in their departure for the park was still too full to skate in.

A child came unto Jesus weeping and lo Jesus asked him wherefore he shed tears and the child told him that although he wanted very much to skate with him, the wheels had long ago come off his board and thus he could watch the others learn to spinflip but could not do it himself. There Jesus bade he bring forth the board and at once Jesus took it and before his eyes he did reattach the wheels to the board though he had no tools with which to do it. And the boy was amazed and he did spread the good news to all who would listen and Jesus fixed many a skateboard although none could tell how he did it.

Another day as the multitudes did congregate at the skatepark to hear Jesus they grew hungry, but among them they could come up with no more than $15.26 which should not feed a skatepark full of people. Without delay, Jesus did take this money and walked to the convenience store and shortly reappeared laden with honeybuns and Cokes for all. Surely Peter and John were amazed for $15 should not have fed the scores of people in attendance. And they asked him how he came upon such a bounty and for they worried he had stolen it.

And Jesus grew weary of their lack of faith and said unto them, “Dudes, my coupon game is sick.”

And they did believe him and were humbled and all ate and had a good time. And after they had eaten their fill, more food yet sat in the grass before them, so bounteous was this feast. The skaters of the park were amazed and spread the word of the Board further still.

The Pharisees saw all of these things and they grew jealous for the people loved Jesus and forever occupied the park. And they vandalized the park and spray-painted over the blacktop. At night's end and their deed done, they left very much satisfied that the people should stop coming to the park.

Now in the morning all the usual people did come and they saw the travesty and they were angry for the blessed skate park had been desecrated by vandals. Judas did know who had abused the park for he had been witness to it at night and he approached them, and the Pharisees promised to buy him dinner if he should tell the police that Jesus had done it. And wickedness grew in Judas’s heart and also hunger in his stomach and he agreed.

Judas did fetch the cops and led them to the skatepark and there he said whosoever does pull off a righteous bigspin is the one who is responsible and Jesus did bigspin at that moment and forthwith they arrested him.

And Jesus spake, “You Judas, whom I did teach to 360 spin off the jump even though you kept falling off the board? You have told the cops to take me!”

And the cops did take him away and his bros scattered for they didn’t want the cops to think they were accomplices and after much trial Jesus was straightway banned from the skatepark. And his bros felt super bad about it.

On the third day of his ban, much to the surprise of his bros, Jesus did reappear and they rejoiced and asked him if he should stay. He said unto them that he must not, for the cops would probably kick him out again but that he wanted to lay down a few more sick moves before he departed.

And he did skate most admirably and his disciples watched him bomb a hill and before he left he told them to spread the word that one day he would return to teach the newbies once more how to skate. And he did tell his bros to keep catching some gnarly air and to instruct all who were willing to learn how to grind a rail. And then his mom pulled up in her car and once again he departed.

(image of Jesus skateboarding, Major Crew)

Author's note:  I kinda wish I could have made this longer. It was pretty fun to write. Now I'm not a skater so I probably didn't use all the slang entirely correctly but this is just meant to be humorous and not necessarily accurate. I went a little beyond the gospel of Mark because that gospel doesn't actually include the resurrection but I think it's a pretty commonly known element of the story. I was only able to include a few miracles from the book of Mark due to the lack of space. The ones I did reference, I think were some of the best known ones. Jesus fixes the kid's skateboard just as he healed the paralyzed man and let him walk again. He also made way more food out of the very little bit of money than should have been possible like the story of him feeding the multitudes with fish and bread. Of course I could have written for a full day to include more miracles. I would have liked to include walking on water but I struggled a bit to come up with a good parallel for it. As it was, I hope it was still fun to read. The whole story was supposed to be humorous enough that it throws the old story of the Christian savior into a new light so that it’s fun to read for both people who have read it a thousand times, and people who have never read the gospel before. For reference for the skateboard tricks, here are some videos.

Gospel of Mark, King James Version

Reading Notes: The Gospel of Mark

I'll be writing on the gospel of mark which is mostly about Jesus's trials and i'm thinking of going an entirely different way with it. I think, perhaps, I want to bring the story into the modern age but with a bit of an irreverent twist. My main idea is to bring Jesus and his apostles entirely out of character and give them the personalities more of skate park bums. Clearly, this is going to end up being a humorous story but I also want to maintain as much of the actual story as I can although I will have to cut a decent bit out to get it under 1000 words.

The Pharisees can be a rival skate gang I think. I'm tempted to go all 90s teen movie on this. The Pharisees are mad that Jesus hangs out with "posers and preps" and tries to teach them how to skateboard. The Pharisees are skateboard purists, only those with the sickest kickflips should be allowed at the skate park but Jesus knows that in order to kickflip you must first learn to ride a board.

When debating with them the proper way to practice Judaism (in the gospel) I may change this to a rap battle? But this may be too hammy. If the story runs too long I may take this out.

The cure for the man with "palsy" who was paralyzed and unable to walk may be a kid whose wheels on his skateboard have broken off. Although everyone at first thinks the board is un-reparable, Jesus is able to reattach the wheels and the kids can skateboard once again.

The apostles squad and their friends have very little money to buy lunch for everyone but Jesus takes their money and is able to buy far more food than anyone expected because, among his many other talents, he is a miracle couponer. He is able to turn their $10.64 into sandwiches and juice boxes for everyone at the skatepark.

I might be able to equate the feat of walking on water to some exceedingly difficult skate trick but I'll actually have to look up what kinds of tricks are particularly difficult and/or dangerous.

Judas dimes Jesus out to the police on faulty vandalism charges and Jesus gets banned from the skatepark and his skateboard confiscated but three days later he returns with his board to throw down a couple more sick tricks before leaving for good.

This should be enough to take up enough room for the story. It might even run long so, if necessary, I can cut a couple of these episodes but I think I included the most popular ones that people remember from the gospel of mark. I also want to make sure that this story is funny but not actually offensive. It's a bit goofy but I want to make sure it's just goofy and doesn't tend into being rude. I will have to watch out for this when writing this project.

(web image, from Photobucket)

Gospel of Mark, King James Version

Feedback Thoughts

Constructive criticism is, for me, very hard to both give and receive. I think I am very prone to making very harsh criticism but I really hate hurting people's feelings or possibly discouraging someone from continuing to write. Other times, because I'm afraid of hurting someone, I tend to go too easy on projects and don't actually say anything useful. I know that I personally need to practice on keeping my tone just right so that I can give important information and hopefully help someone grow in their abilities without causing unnecessary distress.

As for receiving criticism, I tend to be sensitive to criticism that I know is true but often disregard comments that I believe are wrong or trying to correct something that I want to keep as it is. Sometimes I think that this is a strength because I am not so wishy-washy but other times I think that I need to open myself up more to different ideas. I know that anything I make public for people to see is going to be criticized and there's nothing I can do about that. I also know that criticism isn't always  bad, I simply have to keep reminding myself that critiques of my writing are not personal but a chance to learn, and that I'll never be done learning. I will always have room for improvement.

(An inspiring quote, Web Source)

Story: The Witches of the Trojan War

In the dead of night she buried her bundle. Silently past the guards, past her captor, she crouched. In her freshly dug hole in the garden she dropped her sigil, carved with the invocation of Hera and anointed in fresh pig's blood. To the stars and the night and the gods she chanted her spell. She cursed the one who had kidnapped her and his city, she cursed the people within and bound them to ten years of misery and suffering for her insult. Paris would pay, and his precious city of Troy would fall with him, for although he had captured the most beautiful woman in all of Greece, he hadn't known that Helen of Mycenae was also the most powerful witch in all the land. And Hera, the mother goddess to the Greeks heard her righteous curse, and she promised her a return to her home, and to her husband, and she set the Greeks on the warpath to Troy. Athena, the great war goddess, rallied by Hera she led the Greeks in fury to Troy, sacking and razing and kidnapping along the way. They rode in glorious battle and when they came to Troy they would destroy it, as they had destroyed all else in their path.

***

Her temple sacked and her city burning, she prayed to her god Apollo for salvation. As her mother burned and her father lay bruised and beaten she prayed for reprieve, and as she was carried away by a great warrior wielding a spear, Agamemnon his soldiers called him, she prayed for revenge. She prayed Apollo might bless her with the power to curse the Greeks who had razed her home. As they carried her away in binds she swore that she would have her revenge upon the armies of Greece and as she swore Apollo heard her, and turned his gaze upon her. As she sat in binds, waiting while the warriors of Greece argued her fate, he blessed her, and she slipped from her ties and stole silently away, but although she was free, she refused to forget. For their crimes she cast upon them a dreaded curse. And all her sisters wronged, taken also in chains, heard her curse and cast their own, and Apollo heard them too, and in his prophecy he promised that the Greeks would lament their crimes. And as he spoke the words they were so, that the Greeks must lose their most precious warriors, that those who did not fall in battle would face their greatest woe upon their return home. None may leave unscathed save Helen and her husband. Granted protection by Hera, all the curses of women could not harm them, nor could they reverse the fate that was of Troy to fall, but little interest did they have in the fate of Troy. To make the Greeks suffer would be vengeance enough.

***

And the god of pestilence did sow like disease discord between the Greek warriors of Greece, and as the great Achilles departed, insulted by the Greek general Agamemnon, the tide turned against the armies of Menelaus. As their armies fell they retreated, but only briefly, and they begged Achilles' return. But Achilles' grudge ran deep, biting like flies they nagged him and he could not return, and in his place came the great Patroclus. Most loved of Achilles, he took up his arms and rushed against the armies of Troy and he did slay a great many of their warriors but the Trojan hero Hector saw through his disguise and, emboldened by his discovery slew him. And the tide turned once again against the Greeks as the competing curses of every wronged woman fought and mingled, bringing blood and strife to the great war. When Achilles heard of his fallen Patroclus he rallied himself, burning away his grudge in a fever and setting upon the Trojans like a wolf. Round and round the city he pursued the villian Hector until Athena, bade by Helen and her patron Hera, tricked him and brought the two face to face. And Achilles, greatest warrior of Greece killed the hero Hector, but in doing so cemented his own untimely death as the curse of those he wronged sealed his death with the fates.

***

For ten long years the armies of Menelaus laid siege to the city of Troy and Helen, still trapped inside, had her revenge for all those inside suffered until, at last, they succumbed to the treachery of the Greeks. Believing they had won, they accepted the parting gift of Greece, the terrible Trojan Horse, holding a great number of the armies of Agamemnon, and in the night they stole from the horse and opened the city gates and set upon it, burning all in their path, taking what they could and stealing back their long sought after Helen. They killed the kidnapper Paris and set fire to the city, and, in keeping with the prayers of Helen and blessing of Hera, they returned her safe to her home and her husband. But although the war was over, the curse of Apollo was far from done. Achilles had succumbed to the arrows of Paris before the war was finished and he rested in the afterlife with Patroclus. Agamemnon was soon to join them as he returned home to his city and his wife Clytemnestra with yet another captive, another devotee of Apollo the priestess Cassandra. Betrayed and killed by his wife and her new lover he would soon find himself among the dead as well. Only Odysseus, beloved of Athena, would not meet his fate so soon, but would be carried about, on a ten year long voyage home, seeing not his family or his city until then and only after great hardship. Only Helen and Menelaus led a blessed life after the war. At great cost she had returned to her home and, as bade, Troy and Paris had fallen. With so many dead, the age of Heros of Greece ended and life carried on, as it always had.

(image of Medea, ancient Greek witch, performing witchcraft, Frederick Sandys, 1866)

Author's note: This is a long one but then again the Iliad is long. I decided to write this from the perspective of the various women who were wronged throughout the myth of the Trojan War. I believe Helen was not actually that much of a victim in the original myth and went willingly with Paris but I needed a motivation for her curses. The women here are shown as the actual catalysts behind the action in the Trojan war, moving the men about more like chess pieces rather than actually fighting. I would have played out the angle of the chess game more but I only had so much room to write. I had fun giving the women of Greece more agency and importance in the story than the original myth which showed them more as toys for the men to fight over.

Story Source: The Iliad, retold by Alfred J. Church