Showing posts with label story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label story. Show all posts

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Story: Desperate Pecks

"The Indians who ate them had visions or dreams. They could see their gods and talk with their ancestors. But only those Indians who were medicine men and had the right to see strange things had the right to eat they mescal button. They warned everybody else not to touch them, or bad luck would come to them."
 -from When the Storm God Rides by Florence Stratton

Woodpecker pecks

Day after day, Ambrose woke up, flew to the largest, most branch-filled and green tree he could find, and pecked his beak away, hoping someone, anyone, would hear his attempted plea for help. Though it seemed useless, with his son dead and his wife gone, and nobody ever believing that a simple, red-headed woodpecker such as himself would be a human being that had been transformed, Ambrose saw that he had nothing to lose.
Bierce
In my prime, I had been an adventurer, an author, and a war veteran. I have not lived at home since I was 15, and, since fighting in the Civil War, my wife has said that I have not been the same. That is where this adventure stemmed: I decided I wanted to see Mexico before I died. Packing a small bag and some ink, I hit the road. Nothing was holding me back. Unfortunately, I never made it to Mexico. As far as people are concerned, I died trying to get there. This is not the case: I am very much alive, and very much in need of someone to save me.
While on his journey to Mexico, the author ran into a small group of Texas Indians around the Brazos Reserve. Though they had been ordered by the president to move years before, this very unique and small group had managed to stay put decades later. Ambrose was fascinated with this and wanted to know everything about these people. He lived the way they lived and was willing to try absolutely anything. This is what eventually landed him into trouble.

While I was among the people, I befriended a teen who was different. His name was Mesa. It’s not that he didn’t like to do things that were expected of him, such as hunting and building fires and tents, it’s just that he wasn’t very good at these things. Actually, he was rather horrific. So horrific, in fact, that he was told to just not even try, and was cast to an area where the medicine men resided. “Whatever the healers need, fetch it for them,” his mother had told him.

The medicine men were a very important part of the tribe's life, but Ambrose soon found out that they had secrets of their own. One day, Mesa brought Ambrose over to a pointy, green plant and pointed at the button-like berries that were dangling from its branches. “See those?” Mesa asked, pointing at one of them.
Ambrose nodded in agreement, curious at where this was going.
“The medicine men claim that whenever they eat them, they can contact our ancestors. It is almost as if they allow them to join any other world they would like, one that normal people have no idea exists.”
Then Mesa turned away from the plant casually, and went on with his search for a plain root that he had been asked to fetch, not leaving any time for Ambrose to ask any questions.
For the consumption of Medicine Men Only

I don’t like to advertise this, but I was very curious about the juicy, bright berries. So much so that, after Mesa and the medicine men had fallen asleep, I crept around until I found the bush. After making sure nobody had stirred, I picked a couple of the berries from the plant’s branches and put them in my mouth. Chewing slowly.
I expected to be able to contact spirits and past heroes, but instead I woke up with a beak. This is the very reason why I hammer my head into trees day in and day out. I am hoping for attention, for someone to figure out what is wrong with me.
The day after my transformation, I heard Mesa looking for me in the woods. He was calling my name, so I tried to peck louder and louder as I heard him come closer. When he saw me, though, he threw a rock at me.
Each day, right as I am giving up hope, the sun sets. Whenever I wake, I try again, thinking about how it is a new day and anything is possible.
I will do this until I die.
Skull


Bibliography: When the Storm God Rides In: Tejas and Other Indian Legends by Florence Stratton

Collected by Bessie M. Reid

1936

Read them here

Ambrose Bierce information:



Author’s Biography: Hannah Stephens is a senior at the University of Oklahoma. She will graduate in May with a degree in Public Relations and minors in History and Political Science.
In the original version of this story, the rumor was that there were the seeds (that Ambrose consumed),
and if anyone ingested them other than the healers in the town, they would be transformed. This being said,
nobody outside of the tribe had ever encountered this experience. While reading the original version of this story, I found myself thinking it was interesting that nobody ever thought about the woodpeckers, even though there was magic involved. The story discussed how the Native Americans would turn into woodpeckers if they ate the magic seeds...

"A certain plant that grew on the desert was called the mescal plant. Little knobs or buttons which grew on this plant had, when eaten, a magic power. The Indians who ate them had visions or dreams. They could see their gods and talk with their ancestors. But only those Indians who were medicine men and had the right to see strange things had the right to eat the mescal buttons. They warned everybody else not to touch them, or bad luck would come to them.
One man did not listen to the medicine men. He wanted to know what the medicine men saw in their dreams when they ate the mescal buttons and then fell down to the ground or wandered about the camps singing with their eyes closed." 
The Manitou, which is a god of the clouds of the sky, is the one who was in charge of the changes.
"'I will turn you into birds, and you can go look for them in the hollow trees. When you find them I will turn you all back into people again,' the Manitou said.
He waved his hand over the Indians. They became birds. The black robes they were wearing turned into black feathers, and the red feathers they wore in their hair turned into the red head of the woodpeckers. Then the tribe flew off to the trees and began tapping every tree with their sharp bills to find their children.
Even yet the woodpeckers tap the trees. When they find bugs they eat them because they are hungry, but they keep on tapping to find their children."

I then decided it would be interesting if one of the people who was transformed was not someone from the tribe, but an outsider.
Doing a little research, I found Ambrose Bierce, a journalist and explorer from the Civil War era. He went missing before he died, with people believing that he had made it to Mexico and died there. The last sightings of him, though, were in Texas, which made this the perfect person to base the story around. Of course if he ran into a tribe that was supposed to have been removed years before he would stick around and learn about them!
This changes history... he didn't go missing! He was cursed!

Bringing a real human being into the story made it fun to write. Meshing a myth with someone’s real disappearance is something that I have never done before, but it was entertaining to merge the two together. I decided to switch back and forth between first and third person in order for the reader to get the full understanding of what has happened, without having to read the original script. Of course, reading a little information about Bierce and/or the original Tejas tale would not hurt.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Story Planning: What if Alice Never Fell?


Welcome to Wonderland

What if Alice had never followed the rabbit with the red eyes into the hole where all of the chaos began?
-------------------------------------------------------------
Who would the caterpillar give his knowledge to?
Who would the queen invite to her game?
Would that whole world stop or just keep on going in its chaotic ways?
Would they freeze or continue in their actions aimlessly?
What if Alice’s sister had fallen into the hole with her? What if she had fallen instead?

All of these are different angles I could discuss in an upcoming story. Thus, why I am doing a story planning instead of writing one. I think it is so interesting to think about how much one little change or difference could change the entire outcome of the story.

Personally, I can picture the entire world frozen, almost like a dream that never happens. That being said, I can also see the queen trying to execute the caterpillar for playing the game with all of his many legs while also smoking his hookah at the same time.

If Alice’s sister was intolerant, she could have messed up the world, ended up almost dying, and Alice end up coming in and saving her from the queen. On the other hand, what if her sister and the Queen of Hearts had become best friends and decided to rule this obscure world together, creating more mind games and chaos together? She could decide she never wants to leave, and Alice in the real world, being the practical girl she is, could never be willing to jump down the hole to search for her because she believes that her sister “realistically” could never get lost in a hole or simply fall into one that appears so small.

I would love to end up writing this story next week but I need more time to outline it!

Bibliography: read here
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (1865)




Monday, October 31, 2016

Story Planning: Nursery Rhyme Mix-Up

For this upcoming week, I think I may write a story that combines all of the nursery rhyme characters that I have been working with and make them interact based on the traits they have been given by their original creators.

All Scrambled Up

I like to do things that are a little different in order to mix things up on the blog and make my stories unique from everything else that is being read (so that the reader experiences something a little different) and I feel as though this is a great way to do it.

This week, my reading notes were over all of the nursery rhymes. I commented about ones that I had heard before. One thing that I found interesting is how they were categorized, so I would for sure include that into my writing as well. Maybe have the characters be from different towns depending on their genre?

Because I mentioned them in this post, I have decided to attach a link to both of my reading note sections for the week. For the link to Part A click here.
For the link to Part B click here.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Story: A Match Made By Sultan

“What do you think you are doing?”

            Scheherazade glared across the chamber at her new husband- with anything but love and admiration in her eyes. He stared back, expression more annoyed than anything, and, after what seemed like a lifetime of not knowing what to do and neither of them talking -this was extremely uncomfortable... they had only just met after all, the Sultan began to stand. Scheherazade didn’t know what her next move should be whatsoever. Her thoughts began to all be the same.
 For all that is good, he is going to murder me right here!

          
The Sultan in his chamber
 
“Look around! I give you all of this!” The Sultan gestured to the room of luxurious fabrics and fine prints and goods, his arm on a swivel. “…And you try to deceive me? What do you have to say for yourself?”

            Silence.
           
            More silence.

            Finally, Scheherazade spoke.
            “So is this our first fight?” she said with a smirk, toying with the lace on the sleeve of the wedding gown she had still not changed out of.
            “Who do you think you are?” the Sultan bellowed at her, taking a step closer.
            Arms flying up to defend her face, Scheherazade shrieked out, “Okay, okay, I know you’re going to kill me in the morning and I was going to see if I could get out of being murdered by distracting you and…”
            “What did you just say?” the Sultan interrupted her again.
            If we’re going to give this whole “wedding” and “sharing an eternity” concept a chance that has GOT to stop Scheherazade thought, but instead she just continued, “I realize it was not my brightest idea…”
            The Sultan’s expression softened and turned to concern. “So say you had distracted me all of tonight. What about tomorrow night?”
            Scheherazade frowned, thinking. “Well, I hadn’t gotten that far…”
            “Do people really think I have been murdering all of my wives?”
            “Well, yes…”

            By this point the Sultan was on the floor, his head in his hands. “Why must the town always see me as such a horrible person?”
            “Well... you did kill your first wife…”
            “Shut up; she deserved it.”
            That’s when Scheherazade did shut up; the fact that the man she was now married to was the cold-blooded killer of someone he once loved shot shivers up her spine, but she needed to ignore it. He hadn’t killed her (yet) so she still had a chance. She knelt down next to her husband, realizing this is the closest they had ever been in proximity to one another. “So are you saying that you… didn’t kill the other girls?”
            The Sultan looked her in the eye. “No of course not.”
            “Then where are they?”

            The Sultan sighed and then began:
            “So, back when I found out my wife was being disloyal, I was distraught. I had no idea what to do with my life. Did I think killing her would make the pain decrease? Yes. Did it help?” he shook his head. “Not in the least. I went on and got married to another woman. She was very pretty but not the most intelligent. The marriage I knew would be nowhere as satisfying as my first, so I took her to the closet that had once belonged to my true love, let her pick out whatever garments and jewels she fancied until her heart was content. After that, I found her a husband in another land.
            This has been happening the past 173 days of my life and it is exhausting. I have met 173 various women, and all of them are now off in different lands with different husbands whom I hope they enjoy.”
           
            Scheherazade didn’t know what to think but she knew what she needed to ask, “when were you going to show me the closet and find me a suitor?”
            The Sultan smiled softly. “I’m not going to. I think I want to keep you.”

Bibliography: From the Introduction chapter of Arabian Nights’ Entertainment by Andrew Lang https://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=nyp.33433081836409;view=1up;seq=16

Author’s Note: The idea of this story came from the conception of the thought: what if the Sultan Schahriar wasn’t actually killing all of his wives, but instead keeping them hostage in some form or fashion? What if he, then, did not fall for the tricks of Scheherazade, and she ended up there as well? The one thing that stuck me as strange while reading the story itself was that she never considered what would happen if she survived her first night with this new husband of hers. Would she have to constantly repeat the same scheme every night until she eventually ended up dead?
 It was intriguing to me to think about what would happen, which is why I decided to write about the wedding night, only with the special twist that the Sultan is smarter than he looks and catches on to his dear wife’s little game.
As for the image, I chose the image of the Sultan because it helps create the visual I want the reader to get of the chamber in which the two sat during this interaction. Since I am working on a project that is a portfolio, I am hoping this is another twisted tale that can go along with my past work.