Of Love and Fairy Tales....
A couple of days ago Kev asked me to tell him a story for one of our Skype-dates (which I love that I can see his face and talk to him at the same time =). I was a little taken by surprise, and ended up spitting out a fair recitation of Snow White and Rose Red, which has been one of my favorite Grimm fairy tales for forever. It went a little less smoothly that I had hoped. I don't think it crosses most peoples mind how HARD it is to keep a story flowing smoothly while you are spinning shadows in the air. While still getting all the important little details in order, like the fact that Rose Red ends up marrying the Bear Prince, and Snow White marries his brother or that they saved the dwarf from getting his beard caught in the chopping block with the gold first, and the fishing line with the pearls second. My respect for Scheherazade just rose exponentially. Not that I'm sure what comes after childhood idol.
Anyway, I had asked that Kevin return the favor of telling me a story. He had a couple of nights to come up with ideas, and last night he told me his tale while I was lounging in the bath. (Which was quite nice, I felt like an Egyptian princess with her entertainment, all that was missing was him actually there to dry me off afterwards.... but I digress) I know that audiation is not my strength of how to remember information; this comes across very clearly when I can have some one tell me their name and I forget it almost as soon as our initial conversation is over. But I can tell a story from an introduction, and my wild imagination swept up Kev's words before I knew what it was doing. It was quite strange, and his story was very intriguing. This is as best as I can retell it.
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There once was a hunter. He was a middle-aged man who was a lumberjack professionally, but was an excellent shot in his spare time for recreation. One day at the peak of hunting season, he took his dog Rip out in his truck in pursuit of some game. He parked his truck and set out with Rip through the forest in search of a buck. While Rip was tearing about the trees, the hunter noticed something shiny winking out from the forest floor, almost covered in dirt and leaves. It was a metallic ball, the likes of which the hunter had never seen before. He put it in his pocket to ponder later and continued tracking the deer.
He finally caught up with the buck, who was grazing in a meadow. The hunter got down on the ground silently, took aim, and fired. The single shot brought the buck down. Rip ran out to the meadow to make sure that the buck was dead, and the hunter followed him. He stood looking at the buck, and traced a finger around the perfect circle that had taken the buck's life. He wiped the blood off of his fingers in his pocket, forgeting that the metallic ball was in there. As soon as the blood of the deer came into contact with the deer, the sphere gave off a puff of smoke. The hunter didn't notice the smoke coming from his pocket. He told Rip to stay with the deer while he went to get the truck to take it home. He brought the truck around to the clearing, and strapped the buck to the back.
As he and Rip got into the truck to make their way back home, he remembered the little ball he had found. He took it out of his pocket to examine it. In doing so, again some of the fresh blood on his hands came into contact with the metal. The sphere again let out a puch of smoke, this time directly in the hunter's face. he instantly fell asleep.
When he awoke, it appeared to be morning. The hunter blinked his eyes in the bright light, and looked around him. He noticed with some confusion that there were leaves inside the car. He noticed as he tried to open the door that his hands were covered in hair, and that his clothing was full of holes. The leaves around him shifted, revealing the remains of Rip who had faithfully stayed with him. He got out of the car and saw the skeleton of the buck in the broken down truck bed. He slowly started to make his way back to town.
Though the basic layout of the the town is the same, almost everything has changed in some way. People stared at him as he ambled down the street. Men glared and women rushed children away from him. As he passed in front of a glass store front, he could see why; his face was unrecognizable, covered in hair. He could see that hair too, poked out from the holes in his clothing. He came to the house that had been his; it was now a different color, with different cars in the driveway. He went inside to hear voices. The voices led him to the dining room, where he found two women. One seemed familiar, but with grey in her hair and far more wrinkles, the other he almost did not recognize at all. When they saw him, they screamed and ran up the stairway to hide in the rooms above. He tried to follow them.
"Jane, Martha, it's me!" he cried as he tripped up the stairs. Their screaming grew louder, and he could not stand that he was causing them such distress. He left the house and headed back to the woods. He found a burrow of rabbits, and eventually caught one. As he was waiting for it to cook over a fire, he remembered the strange metal sphere that was still in his pocket. As he took it out, some of the rabbit blood touched the surface. A puff of smoke blew out of the strange ball, and before he could do anything, he was asleep again.
When he woke up, it was morning. When he stood up, however, he saw his truck a little ways off. It looked just like it had the morning he had first set out to go hunting. The deer was still in the back, wholey there. He opened the door to find Rip curled up on the front seat, waiting for him to return and take them both home. As he drove through town, everything was the same as when he had first left. No one stared at him or looked frightened of him. He arrived home to find his wife and daughter waiting for him.
*************
I can't really say how much it meant to me that Kev played along with my request of telling me a story. I would love for us to be able to tell stories to each other for the rest of our lives. I think they are quite important, and there is a lot you can tell about a person from their story.
I loved that Kev took inspiration from Washington Irving's Rip Van Winkle. There is a reason classic literature is in fact classic, especially early American writers. Oh, the wit, the satire. I love it. Even more, though, I love that he came up with his own story, and didn't ust recite something that lived in his hear, like I did. I am so very proud of him for that. I highly enjoyed the "mystical" element of the metal ball, and the fact that the main character had such a hair complex. And most of how he told it made me smile. It was so very like him and full of Kevin quirks that I adore, giving precise ranges for the age of the characters and names like Jane and Martha to the secondary supporting characters.
(Kev, if you are reading this, I'm gonna critique it, so if you don't want to read the next part, that's ok.)
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There are some things about the story the bother me. The fact that it is very macabre in of itself doesn't so much; one of my fav authors is Garth Nix and his Abhorsen books (description = girl trying to make lots of dead things stay dead and not become zombies while trying to hold onto her soul... CREEPY). But that there is death that doesn't seem to provide contrast, lessons, or MEAN anything, that... bugs me. Three animals died in the course of the story: a buck, Rip the dog, and a rabbit. There is no emotional connection with any of them (when the hunter looks at the bullet wound, what is he thinking- regret, triumph? when he sees what is left of his favorite dog, what goes through his head, etc), and none of them provide plot-moving devices. This could in fact just be my not handling death well (I've said this before), but that doesn't mean I don't accept that it happens.
Perhaps I am too rigidly forcing this story into the necessary grounds of a fairy tale/fable/etc., but there are some things that are missing that would make this much less... chafing. I think for starters, I would want to know more about the hunter. What was his relationship like before with the rest of his family? Did he have some personality flaws (being a greedy hunter, taking his family for granted, etc) that made him deserve his decade leap? If he didn't, then why did it happen to him (I realize that this question totally oozes with everything-happens-for-a-reason-ness)? How did he get back into his own decade... or better put, what changed between the time that the first time the ball puffed smoke and the second time when he was brought back? What was he going to change in his life now that he learned whatever that lesson was? I think lots of these things will come easier in time as we get used to telling stories orally.
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I would like to keep track of all the stories we tell each other. Perhaps someday, I will put them all in a book so that others can read them. Most of all, I just appreciate that he was willing to go out on a limb, out of his comfort zone for me. I hope I will be able to return the favor for him. I do love that boy so very much. <3
Anyway, I had asked that Kevin return the favor of telling me a story. He had a couple of nights to come up with ideas, and last night he told me his tale while I was lounging in the bath. (Which was quite nice, I felt like an Egyptian princess with her entertainment, all that was missing was him actually there to dry me off afterwards.... but I digress) I know that audiation is not my strength of how to remember information; this comes across very clearly when I can have some one tell me their name and I forget it almost as soon as our initial conversation is over. But I can tell a story from an introduction, and my wild imagination swept up Kev's words before I knew what it was doing. It was quite strange, and his story was very intriguing. This is as best as I can retell it.
*************
There once was a hunter. He was a middle-aged man who was a lumberjack professionally, but was an excellent shot in his spare time for recreation. One day at the peak of hunting season, he took his dog Rip out in his truck in pursuit of some game. He parked his truck and set out with Rip through the forest in search of a buck. While Rip was tearing about the trees, the hunter noticed something shiny winking out from the forest floor, almost covered in dirt and leaves. It was a metallic ball, the likes of which the hunter had never seen before. He put it in his pocket to ponder later and continued tracking the deer.
He finally caught up with the buck, who was grazing in a meadow. The hunter got down on the ground silently, took aim, and fired. The single shot brought the buck down. Rip ran out to the meadow to make sure that the buck was dead, and the hunter followed him. He stood looking at the buck, and traced a finger around the perfect circle that had taken the buck's life. He wiped the blood off of his fingers in his pocket, forgeting that the metallic ball was in there. As soon as the blood of the deer came into contact with the deer, the sphere gave off a puff of smoke. The hunter didn't notice the smoke coming from his pocket. He told Rip to stay with the deer while he went to get the truck to take it home. He brought the truck around to the clearing, and strapped the buck to the back.
As he and Rip got into the truck to make their way back home, he remembered the little ball he had found. He took it out of his pocket to examine it. In doing so, again some of the fresh blood on his hands came into contact with the metal. The sphere again let out a puch of smoke, this time directly in the hunter's face. he instantly fell asleep.
When he awoke, it appeared to be morning. The hunter blinked his eyes in the bright light, and looked around him. He noticed with some confusion that there were leaves inside the car. He noticed as he tried to open the door that his hands were covered in hair, and that his clothing was full of holes. The leaves around him shifted, revealing the remains of Rip who had faithfully stayed with him. He got out of the car and saw the skeleton of the buck in the broken down truck bed. He slowly started to make his way back to town.
Though the basic layout of the the town is the same, almost everything has changed in some way. People stared at him as he ambled down the street. Men glared and women rushed children away from him. As he passed in front of a glass store front, he could see why; his face was unrecognizable, covered in hair. He could see that hair too, poked out from the holes in his clothing. He came to the house that had been his; it was now a different color, with different cars in the driveway. He went inside to hear voices. The voices led him to the dining room, where he found two women. One seemed familiar, but with grey in her hair and far more wrinkles, the other he almost did not recognize at all. When they saw him, they screamed and ran up the stairway to hide in the rooms above. He tried to follow them.
"Jane, Martha, it's me!" he cried as he tripped up the stairs. Their screaming grew louder, and he could not stand that he was causing them such distress. He left the house and headed back to the woods. He found a burrow of rabbits, and eventually caught one. As he was waiting for it to cook over a fire, he remembered the strange metal sphere that was still in his pocket. As he took it out, some of the rabbit blood touched the surface. A puff of smoke blew out of the strange ball, and before he could do anything, he was asleep again.
When he woke up, it was morning. When he stood up, however, he saw his truck a little ways off. It looked just like it had the morning he had first set out to go hunting. The deer was still in the back, wholey there. He opened the door to find Rip curled up on the front seat, waiting for him to return and take them both home. As he drove through town, everything was the same as when he had first left. No one stared at him or looked frightened of him. He arrived home to find his wife and daughter waiting for him.
*************
I can't really say how much it meant to me that Kev played along with my request of telling me a story. I would love for us to be able to tell stories to each other for the rest of our lives. I think they are quite important, and there is a lot you can tell about a person from their story.
I loved that Kev took inspiration from Washington Irving's Rip Van Winkle. There is a reason classic literature is in fact classic, especially early American writers. Oh, the wit, the satire. I love it. Even more, though, I love that he came up with his own story, and didn't ust recite something that lived in his hear, like I did. I am so very proud of him for that. I highly enjoyed the "mystical" element of the metal ball, and the fact that the main character had such a hair complex. And most of how he told it made me smile. It was so very like him and full of Kevin quirks that I adore, giving precise ranges for the age of the characters and names like Jane and Martha to the secondary supporting characters.
(Kev, if you are reading this, I'm gonna critique it, so if you don't want to read the next part, that's ok.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There are some things about the story the bother me. The fact that it is very macabre in of itself doesn't so much; one of my fav authors is Garth Nix and his Abhorsen books (description = girl trying to make lots of dead things stay dead and not become zombies while trying to hold onto her soul... CREEPY). But that there is death that doesn't seem to provide contrast, lessons, or MEAN anything, that... bugs me. Three animals died in the course of the story: a buck, Rip the dog, and a rabbit. There is no emotional connection with any of them (when the hunter looks at the bullet wound, what is he thinking- regret, triumph? when he sees what is left of his favorite dog, what goes through his head, etc), and none of them provide plot-moving devices. This could in fact just be my not handling death well (I've said this before), but that doesn't mean I don't accept that it happens.
Perhaps I am too rigidly forcing this story into the necessary grounds of a fairy tale/fable/etc., but there are some things that are missing that would make this much less... chafing. I think for starters, I would want to know more about the hunter. What was his relationship like before with the rest of his family? Did he have some personality flaws (being a greedy hunter, taking his family for granted, etc) that made him deserve his decade leap? If he didn't, then why did it happen to him (I realize that this question totally oozes with everything-happens-for-a-reason-ness)? How did he get back into his own decade... or better put, what changed between the time that the first time the ball puffed smoke and the second time when he was brought back? What was he going to change in his life now that he learned whatever that lesson was? I think lots of these things will come easier in time as we get used to telling stories orally.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I would like to keep track of all the stories we tell each other. Perhaps someday, I will put them all in a book so that others can read them. Most of all, I just appreciate that he was willing to go out on a limb, out of his comfort zone for me. I hope I will be able to return the favor for him. I do love that boy so very much. <3