Week 7 Storytelling: The Silkworm Goddess

Goddess of the Silkworms 

There once was a beautiful and spirited girl. She was the only daughter of very hardworking father. Her mother had died when she was young, and ever since it had just been the two of them. One day her father left to go on a journey. He would be traveling all over China for he had to purchase grains and seeds and new livestock for which to grow his farm with.

Several weeks past and the girl became very lonely without her father. It was very hard work to tend to the farm all day by herself, and having no one to talk to was beginning to wear on her. She had only the animals to keep her company through out most of the days, and as a result had begun to talk to them, as if they were friends who could speak back.

One day the girl was feeling particularly alone. She missed her dear father very much, and longed to see her only family. As she was walking through the pasture, she came upon their stallion. Stopping to see him, she began to stroke his neck.

 "Stallion," she said. "If you could but run to my father and bring him back, why I would be so delighted, I would marry you." She giggled at her own joke.

The horse however began to bow down. He knelt down on his front knees, bowing his head as if to say "Your wish is my command, my lady."

Then he raised up and tore across the pasture, quickly disappearing from sight. The girl chased after him, but catching him was impossible. The girl fretted and fretted over the horse, wondering what she would do when her father arrived home and realized she had lost him. Days past and there was no sign of him, until one day, from a far distance she spotted a man sitting atop a horse riding towards her family's farm.

As the horse and its rider neared, the girl realized it was the stallion and her beloved father. She was so excited that she picked up her skirts and ran to meet them. "Oh father! You are back, and you have brought the stallion! I was so worried when he ran off, and I have missed you so!"

Suddenly though the horse stepped towards the girl and tried to bite her. She jumped back as her father swatted the stallion, and then looked towards her questioningly. "What is the meaning of this? Why would he bite you?"

"Oh no," the girl paced. "Oh no! Oh no! This can't be. Father, I was so lonely here, and one day I was tending to the animals and I said to the stallion if he would go and bring you back, I would marry him! Oh papa, I was just joking! It cannot be that he believed me!"

Her father stepped towards her, heaving in a breath. "Speak of this to no one, daughter, else the neighbors will talk." With that he grabbed the stallion pulling it towards the house where his bow lay. He quickly shot the horse, wasting no time in skinning it, and then hung the skin to dry in the barn before burning the carcass.

One day however, while walking with a friend, the girl came upon the horse's hide. "Stupid horse," she said, kicking it. "Thinking you would ever be able to marry a human, serves you right." Just as she said it however, the hide reached out and grabbed the girl! Wrapping her up tightly as she screamed before running away quickly.

The girl's friend was horrified, and so she took off sprinting in the direction of the house. Running to the girl's father, she relayed what had just transpired. The girl's father gathered the neighbors, and they spent many days and nights looking for the girl. but she was no where to be found.

Many days later however, they came upon her hanging from a tree still wrapped up in the horse hide. There was no way to loosen her from the tree, so day after day they watched as she gradually turned into a silkworm and wove a cocoon. She spun many strong and thick threads, and gave them to her friend who wove them into silk to sell for profit.

One day she finally disappeared from the tree and her father and her friends began to long for her greatly after several weeks. One night after they had spent the day telling stories about times when the girl had been alive, she suddenly appeared.

"Father, friends, you must yearn for me no longer. I have been sent into heaven to watch over the silkworms.  I am important here, you must not sorrow for me anymore." And so the community stopped sorrowing for the girl, and instead built many temples to her, and offered her many sacrifices in the silkworm season, and from then on they always had large profits of silk to sell for profits.

Author's Note: This story is from the Chinese fairy tales unit. The original story really appealed to me because it was so odd, and I was so surprised by the events of it. I wanted to keep the general story much the same because I love the surprise of the girl suddenly getting wrapped up into a horse hide and then turned into a silkworm. (very random, right?) Instead because the original story was so short, I wanted to add a little more detail to it just to elaborate more on the events of the story and make it easier to picture in your head. You can find the link to the original story here though! Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

Week 6 Storytelling: Two Bottles of Wine

Spilled bottle of wine

Princess Hase-Hime sat in the living room playing with her younger half-brother. As she played she thought about the last few years. Her mother had died when she was just five, and her father had remarried a year later. Where her mom had been loving and kindhearted, her step-mother was cruel and vindictive.

Hase-Hime had tried so hard to be good over the years. She had weathered her step-mothers cruelty without complaint and worked hard to make her father and her proud, however nothing seemed to be able to change her step-mother's feelings towards her. In fact, over the past couple of weeks, things had been worse than ever.

Hase-Hime had been invited by the Emperor to play the koto for him. Her step-mother had even been asked to accompany her on the flute. However, while Hase-Hime had practiced tirelessly, perfecting her songs, and memorizing notes, her step-mother had done neither. It had been a great embarrassment when her step-mother had played so poorly during the performance that another lady had had to step in for her. When the emperor had lavished gifts on her, her step mother had seethed in jealousy.

She'd been especially cruel to Hase-Hime since. Hase-Hime had even overheard her muttering to herself in the kitchen saying, "If only Hase-Hime were not here, my son would have all of the love of his father." Hase-Hime had been disturbed by this, but had quickly put it out of her mind.

Today she was playing in the living room with her half-brother. At four years old, he was playful and goofy, and he idolized her. She loved spending time with him, helping him to play make believe with his toys, telling him wonderful stories about all kinds of magical creatures. They were currently sitting on the floor surrounded by toy warriors, acting out a story with them as Hase-Hime told it aloud.

She glanced up as she saw her step-mother walking into the room with two bottles of sweet wine. Strange she would have two bottles, she thought.

"You two are both so good and so happy that I have brought you some sweet wine, and some cakes," her step-mother said, her voice sounding a little strange. Hase-Hime watched as her step-mother fumbled over the glasses, hands shaking as she poured two cups of wine, one from each bottle.

She seemed flustered and out of sorts as Hase-Hime and her half-brother grabbed their glasses and sipped at the wine. Over the next half hour, Hase-Hime noticed her mother staring at her keenly, but she'd quickly look away when Hase-Hime noticed.

Suddenly her half brother screamed in pain, doubling over and grasping at his stomach. He vomited violently, before collapsing onto the ground, seizing. Hase-Hime jumped toward him terrified and panicked. Her step-mother screamed, eyes wide in shock and horror.

"My baby, oh my baby!" She grabbed at him, fumbling her arms around trying desperately to make him stop shaking, but when he finally did, his body fell limp, his eyes open but unseeing.

Hase-Hime looked on horrified. Her baby brother, her precious baby brother was dead. Just like that. As she stood there, frozen in shock, her step-mother turned toward her, her gaze wild and angry. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it before turning back to her lifeless son.

Hase-Hime looked around the room, eyes settling on the two separate bottles of wine her mother had brought in from the kitchen, and shivered. Something was not right here.

Author's Note: So I wrote my story based off the second part of the story of Princess Hase from the Japanese Fairy Tales told by Ozkani. I tried to give a little bit of background into who Hase-Hime was before going into the part of the story that I was going to focus on, but basically Hase-Hime's mother died when she was little and on her death bed had told Hase-Hime that no matter what she was to honor her father and to be a good and obedient child. When her father married her step-mother, Hase-Hime continued to be a perfect child, even though her mother was so incredibly cruel. In the story it is pretty matter of fact about how her step-mother accidentally kills her son while trying to poison Hase-Hime. I wanted to make it a little bit less obvious, and just allude to the truth behind her half-brother's death in my version of the story. I know this story is pretty dark, but it just really intrigued me and gave me the chills when I was reading and I wanted to share. You should definitely check out the rest of the story however (Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four), it has a happy ending! Thanks for reading!

Week 4 Storytelling: Never Smile at a Crocodile

Photo of a crocodile, AFP/GETTY

I sat in my villa, surrounded by lush furniture. Servants brought food and drink to the chaise on which I lounged on my patio. It was summer, and it was rather hot. One servant fanned me with a giant palm leaf. The house was bustling today, the Pharaoh was coming to visit.

I was the chief scribe, a rather important person, but still these visits were unusual. My wife should be here. She should be readying herself, helping to prepare the house, but she was no where to be found. I looked toward the large lake that I'd had put at the edge of my property and scowled. I knew where she'd been going all of these days.

She thought she was so clever, so secretive. Little did she know that I had been watching this whole time. I knew about her love for that peasant. I knew every gift, every secret meeting. I snarled in disgust thinking about how I'd watched them disappear into the cottage on our property. Watched as food had been brought from the villa to them, shook in anger while I watched them bath in the lake in the evening.

I glanced toward the magic box sitting on the end table beside me. Reaching out and opening it, I gazed upon the wax crocodile I had obtained. I grabbed it, calling for my butler. I turned it around in my hands muttering the quick spell I had learned, before handed it to the butler.

"Throw this trinket into the lake behind the man when he comes to bathe himself next."

The next day the Pharaoh arrived. I was doing some of my dealings with him, when the butler came and whispered in my ear.

"It is finished, sir."

I smiled to myself and continued on with the Pharaoh. Several days passed, the Pharaoh was still here and we were nearing the end of our work and his visit. My wife had spent the last days sulking and crying, acting out like a child.

Finally I confided in the Pharaoh. I told him of my wife, her unfaithfulness, her obvious and indiscreet abandonment of her vows. I told him of the wax crocodile, and how the butler had thrown it into the lake. I told him of how the young man had not returned since. I told him of the spell and my suspicions that it had worked. We went together to the lake, where I repeated the spell and called to the crocodile figure.

Up out of the water rose a giant crocodile! It came towards the shore, and the young man my wife had been consorting with was held in his jaw.

"He does everything I command," I said in wonder. The spell had worked. It had really truly worked.

The Pharaoh looked toward me, amazed at the sight. He turned back toward the water, where the crocodile sat. The young man he had had in his jaws stood shivering at the shore. His Majesty commanded to the crocodile, "Seize the wrongdoer."

The crocodile leaped out of the water, grabbing the man and disappearing back into the water. His Majesty asked if I wanted my wife punished similarly. A part of me did. A part of me was so angry I wanted her burned at the stake like many other women who abandoned their vows were, but I couldn't do it. I would punish her my own way. She would pay for what she had done.

Author's Note: So I am reading the Ancient Egyptian stories. I chose to write the story of the Wax Crocodile. The story is kind of dark, and I wanted to keep it that way, but I did change the ending some. It's all about a cheating wife and her lover and them getting the punishment deserved to them. In the original story the woman was burned alive at a stake, and her remains were tossed into the Nile. It was pretty gruesome, and while I don't mind violence in stories, it seemed a little bit melodramatic and kind of out of left field, so I altered it. Hope you enjoy!

Week Three Storytelling: Monster-in-Law

Roman Temple of Aphrodite

My hair was being pulled. Hard. Any harder and my hair was going to come out, I was sure of it. I let out an unladylike grunt as the woman manhandled me, dragging me inside of the temple. The woman yanked me to a stop, and I stumbled, bringing my arms protectively to my stomach in case I should fall.

Well, not quite the welcome I'd hoped for, I snorted to myself. When you're entering the temple of your mother-in-law, you're usually hoping for something a little warmer, but then again my mother-in-law was currently on a mission to kill me, so what did I expect? Venus was mad, and by mad I mean furious that her son Cupid had married me. (She has some sort of jealousy thing because I'm a little to beautiful for her liking, plus I'm a mortal. Ya know, the normal family issues).

Speaking of Cupid, where was that drama king anyway? I'd been looking for my impossibly angry husband for days, while simultaneously trying to prevent Venus from killing me.

Ugh, men. You have a couple little doubts when you realize you've never seen your husband's face, and suddenly its the end of the world. I mean, sure, in hindsight the whole 'he could be a giant killer serpent, so I'm gonna bring a razor to bed with me' thing may have been a little melodramatic, but it was a one time thing! Sue me. 

But here I was, in this stupid temple and in a completely desperate situation, about to beg Venus for mercy and forgiveness. I hugged my belly a little tighter, wishing I would feel that comforting flutter of a kick to know my baby was still here, that he was okay, that he was on my side.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my precious daughter-in-law." Venus stalked toward me, her voice dripping with sarcasm as her face twisted into a smirk. Oh good gods, here we go. "Come to beg me at last have you? Or are you just here to see your husband? No matter really, I have plans for you anyway."

"Goody," I said flatly. So this is where my husband has been all of this time. Of course.

"Look at this girl. Coming here, practically parading her pregnant belly around, trying to rub it in my face that my stupid, stupid son has fathered a bastard." Venus addressed her servants.

In my defense, I was hardly parading my pregnancy. Being 8 months pregnant is a little hard to hide. Leave it to my mother-in-law to exaggerate wildly though.

"Don't even bother thinking that there is a hope in the world of me allowing that child to be legitimate. You'll be lucky if I even let this monstrosity be born." Venus went on cruelly. I hugged myself tightly, tears pricking my eyes. Buck up, Psyche, now is not the time to be getting all hormonal. I schooled my features, steeling myself against her hateful words before shooting her an icy glare. If only looks could kill.

My silence infuriated Venus, and suddenly she was attacking me, ripping at my hair, tearing at my robes, screaming in rage. I hunched protectively over my belly, curling into myself, trying only to protect my baby. Tears streamed down my face. She stopped finally, as quickly as she had started, and stepped away from me, disheveled and breathing hard. She spoke to one of her servants who ran to the kitchens to do her bidding. She stared at me coldly, until they'd come back, heaving a giant bag. "Sort these," she motioned toward the sack. "Before the evening is done. Show it to me for approval." Then she turned on her heel and took off, her servants hurrying after her.

I stood there dumbly. I was bruised, bleeding even. My clothes were tattered. What had once been a beautiful draping of sapphire silk, now hung around me in limp tatters. I stepped towards the sack, peaking into it. You've gotta be flippin' kidding me. Beans. The bag was full of beans. At least 10 different kinds. Venus wanted me to sort a giant sack of beans.

I was suddenly exhausted. The kind of exhaustion that extends all of the way to your bones. My arms and legs felt like lead. I sank to the ground, sighing a breath that ended in a sob. This was asinine. This was literally completely insane. I was sorting BEANS for my psychotic monster-in-law in the hopes that she would decide not to destroy my life, my marriage, and my child. If I didn't love my stupid, impossibly aggravating husband so much, and if I weren't carrying his baby, I would just let her destroy me. But I was in love with him, and I was carrying his baby. This precious, lovely baby I was carrying. This tiny child who comforted me with his kicks, who promised to be everything I had ever dreamed of. I would do whatever crazy thing Venus demanded of me for this baby.

I began sorting. It was slow work. I would never finish in time. But then I heard a small cough. I looked up and a child stepped out of the dark corridor leading to the kitchens. She walked toward me, looking at the sack with a pitying glance. "You'll never finish that. You better let me help." She hesitated for a moment, then held up one finger to me, signaling that I should wait, as she ran back to where she'd come from.

She came back quickly, bringing with her a hoard of other children, all varying ages. They sat down close to me, and wordlessly began passing the giant sack around until everyone had a heaping pile of beans. And then we all began to sort. Maybe I'll make it out of this ridiculous mess after all.

Authors Note: Okay so my main problem with the Cupid and Psyche unit was that as much as I wanted to really like Psyche and really root for her, she didn't seem to have much of a personality. She doesn't really think for herself and frankly, she's kind of a cry baby. I'm all about strong female characters. I like to read about women who are smart and courageous, who think for themselves, who don't whimper and simper and wait around all day waiting for someone else to give them the answers. One of my favorite scenes in this story was when Psyche finally goes to Venus to try and get everything figured out. I wanted to portray this scene in a different light though. I really wanted to turn Psyche into a strong character, someone with a personality, with opinions, and a lot of self respect and confidence. I also thought that if I was going to make Psyche more lively and outspoken that it would make more sense to give the story a more modern type of feel and attitude. So this is my take on Venus and Psyche. Thanks for reading!

Bibliography: Venus and Psyche, Apuleius's Golden Ass translated by Tony Kline (2013).

Week 2 Storytelling: At the Table with Achilles

It was evening and the night was stagnant, almost stifling. The faint acrid smell of burning wood hung in the air and off in the distance a cloud of smoke rose from over the water. Achilles was sitting outside his tent, gently plucking at the strings of a harp and singing softly of heroes of old and their valiant adventures. Patroclus, his dearest friend and right hand man, lounged in the grass near him, staring toward the rising cloud of smoke. The sun had just set and darkness was quickly approaching.

 Achilles, lost in his song and the gentle music of the harp, almost failed to hear the approaching foot steps. Patroclus scrambled hastily to his feet, his sudden energy a contrast to the tightly controlled movements of Achilles as he rose from the stool angling himself toward the oncoming figures.

Odysseus and Phoenix approaching Achilles
(Attic red-figure Hydria circa 480 BCE)

As they came closer, Achilles relaxed some as he recognized the figures to be Ulysses, Ajax, and Phoenix. He called out to them, "Brothers, welcome! Though I am angry with King Agamemnon, you are no less my friends."

After brief greetings, Achilles led the group into his tent while Patroclus set about mixing sweet wine and preparing a meal for the group to eat. Patroclus prepared a sacrifice for the gods, tossing it into the fire before serving the men. They sat around the table, eating and drinking, glad to be in each other's company again. The food was hearty, the wine strong, and the mood light.

As the meal went on, the three guests shifted glances at each other, and the energy in the room began to shift. Finally Phoenix cleared his throat. "Achilles, friend, truly this has been a feast, but there is no longer time to delay."

Achilles shifted in his seat, his body tensing as he directed his stare at his friend.

"The Trojans are gaining ground, they set many of our chariots aflame today, and it is doubtful how long we can hold them from our ships. It is apparent that Zeus is on their side. We are afraid, Achilles."

Achilles was silent, his face an impenetrable mask as Phoenix continued. "Rouse yourself Achilles, hold not yourself from battle any longer. Come back with us, fight again. Hector rages against us, screaming claims of Zeus's favor. He vows to destroy us, our men, our horses, our ships. Do not hold to your anger against Agamemnon so tightly that you will allow all of us to come to ruin."

Achilles looked down at the table, tense and silent, his anger at Agamemnon had not lessened. He had dishonored Achilles, stolen from him his rightful due and insulted him. Achilles could not fight for Agamemnon again, he wouldn't. But yet the Greeks, his brothers, friends, and countrymen were there fighting.

Phoenix began again, "Your father, Peleus, did not he warn you on the day you departed Myrmidones to fight for Agamemnon against the Trojans to stifle your pride and turn away from strife? Did not he charge you with this? And have you not abandoned his warning, abandoned the Greeks even, in your haste to prove a point to Agamemnon?"

Achilles kept his head down and stayed silent, but anger swelled in his heart. How dare Phoenix throw his father's words in his face, attempt to guilt him and shame him into fighting alongside Agamemnon! How dare he accuse him of abandoning the Greeks!

But Phoenix wasn't finished. "Come now, Achilles. You may still repent. The King, Agamemnon, has sent you many gifts, in hopes you will forgive his wrongs and take up arms with him again."

Ulysses interjected then, listing off the many wondrous gifts which Agamemnon had promised to Achilles. Horses and chariots, gold and silver, goblets, wine, lush fabrics, and his daughter for a bride. The gifts to which Agamemnon promised Achilles were boundless, but Achilles hardly heard them, so red with anger was he at the insult that he should repent to Agamemnon.

Shaking in rage, Achilles rose from his chair, looking at each of the men around his table. "We are friends, and thus I will speak to you plainly," he said, his words a crisp staccato of tightly controlled energy. "It angers me that each of you should sit at my table and attempt to coax me. To guilt me and shame me with the words of my father. To belittle the dishonor which Agamemnon has done to me."

The men looked down, chastened by Achilles tone, as he continued. "I have fought countless battles. I have been brave and strong. I have put my life in peril time and time again. And what has it profited me? It has been thankless work. For all I have endured, the King has honored me with insults. He has stolen from me all which I have earned. Do not ask me to fight against the Trojans anymore. There are other men, other soldiers, other chiefs whom Agamemnon has not dishonored as he has me. Let him take counsel with them as to how to keep the ships from burning, how to hold themselves strong against Hector. Let him ask them, for I will not fight another day against the Trojans."

Patroclus looked to his dearest friend, his chief, the man whom he had spent much of his life standing alongside. Never had he seen Achilles so impassioned and angry at men he called friends. He had hoped Achilles would join the Greeks again, but it seemed this would not be so.

Achilles spoke again, his hands pushing into the table as he leaned into his words, "Tomorrow I will take my ships, my men, and those things which the king has not stripped me of, and I shall set sail back to Myrmidones. I want nothing of the gifts Agamemnon has promised to me, and as for the himself, friends, I will say this but once, I shall neither take counsel with Agamemnon nor stand by his side in battle again."

Authors Note: This story is based off of the two part episode "The Essembly to Achilles" from Homer's Iliad (Part 1, Part 2). Up to this point the Greeks have been fighting the Trojans just outside the walls of Troy. The Greeks have come to Troy to take back Helen, the wife of King Agamemnon's brother Menelaus, who has run away with Paris, as son to Priam, the king of Troy. Achilles has been gravely insulted by Agamemnon, who has decided to take back all of the spoils which Achilles had earned on their way to Troy. In response Achilles has taken his men and sailed a brief'distance, leaving the fight against Troy.

In this scene, three Greek chiefs, friends of Achilles, have come to beg on behalf of Agamemnon that Achilles return to the fight. In the story available in the UnTextbook, there is no clear main character. In my version, I wanted to focus mainly on Achilles and his reaction to the words of his friends. I have added more detail, and tried to set a more clear scene than is present in the UnTextbook. Very little emotion is expressed in the original story, so I wanted to explore and animate the emotions and energy that I envisioned being present in the scene when I had read the story. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed it! (also by some miracle my story was exactly 1000 words, whew, haha)

Bibliography: The Iliad retold by Alfred J. Church (1907). Web Source: Mythology and Folklore UN-Textbook

Week 1 Storytelling: Fiddle De Dee, the Fly and the Bee

Fiddle Diddle Dee, the Fly and the Bee

There once was a sweet and beautiful fly named Eleanor. She was the youngest daughter of one of the most important flies in London. When Eleanor had been just a maggot, her mother had been killed by a swarm of bumble bees.

Because of this her father was very protective of his children, particularly his youngest daughter. Unlike the rest of her siblings, Eleanor was never allowed to fly more than a couple of inches from the branch on which they resided, because her father was so fearful she would be hurt. He had even hired guards to ensure that Eleanor was safe and remained close to their home at all times.

Despite her confined life, Eleanor was a very curious fly. One day while her father and her siblings were out, she heard a faint but mysterious humming noise. She took a quick look towards her guard, noting that he had fallen asleep in the shade provided by a patch of leaves, and began to cautiously make her way toward the noise.

“Oh fiddle dee fiddlesticks!” she heard someone exclaim and looked across to the next branch to see a giant fly looking around in all directions.

Taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer that her guard wouldn't wake up and find her missing, Eleanor took off and flew to the next branch landing a short distance from the mysterious thing.

“Bzzzz,” she said tentatively, “Excuse me, Is everything okay?”

The thing turned toward her and Eleanor was able to get a good look. It was quite large compared to her, yellow and black striped with wings similar to hers but much larger. Goodness gracious! It was a bumble bee! Flashes of warnings about the terrible and savage creatures had Eleanor backing away apprehensively frantically looking for a place to escape the bee’s sight.

Just as Eleanor was about to make her escape the bee called to her, “Wait, Please don’t go! I won’t hurt you.”

Eleanor stopped and turned back toward the bee. “Who are you? What do you want?” she questioned.

“I’m Franklin. My hive was destroyed today while I was out. When I came back everyone was gone. My queen, my dad, everyone. I’m all alone, I’ve never been all alone before,” he said.

The desperate look on his face tugged at Eleanor’s heart strings and so she settled down to keep the bee company. Eleanor had never had a real friend before, outside of her siblings at least. She found herself telling Franklin all about her life and her family, wishing he could come back to her branch with her to keep her company. After a while though Eleanor remembered where she was.

“Oh no! I’ve got to get back to my branch! If my guard has woken up and finds me missing, I’ll probably get chained to a leaf for the rest of my life! Let’s meet tomorrow? Same time?” Eleanor waited for Franklin to agree before zooming back to her branch. She landed, out of breath and flustered, just as her guard was waking up. Whew! That was close!

Over the next week, Franklin and Eleanor met up as often as they could. Franklin was all she could think about. He was shy and funny, nothing like the bees her father had warned her about. She was so caught up in her new friendship, that she almost missed when her father tell her that he had decided she was to be married, and soon.

“I have found a suitable match for you, Eleanor. He is strong and quick, and lives on a large branch with many servants and guards who will keep you safe.”

Ripped from her daydream, Eleanor stuttered, “Wh-what? Suitable match? What are you even talking about? Have you been drinking fermented nectar again, I’m not marrying some random fly!”

“Eleanor, you will do as I say, and you will do it without complaint,” her father turned around, dismissing her. “The wedding will be held in two days time.”

Eleanor was in a panic. She paced and buzzed around for hours, unable to fathom what was happening. She had to get away. She couldn’t live like this anymore! She was not going to be handed off to another fly and live the rest of her life confined to a branch. She wanted love, adventure, freedom!

She began devising a plan. Tomorrow morning while her father and siblings were away, she would escape her guard to see Franklin. They would run away together, maybe if they got enough of a head start her father would never find her.

The next morning she could hardly stand still while she waited for Franklin to meet her in their usual spot. When he finally got there she could hardly get the words out fast enough.

“Franklin! We have to get out of here! My father has demanded that I marry some fly he’s chosen in two days! We have to run away! Quick, let’s go!”

“Wait, Ellie, what? Now hold on. There might be a way around this. You don’t have to leave your family behind forever,” he reasoned.

“What do you mean?” Eleanor asked, blushing over the nickname he had given her.

“We could get married instead. If you’re already married to someone, your father won’t be able to make you marry that fly. Ya know, if you wouldn’t mind marrying me,” he looked away shyly, unable to make eye contact with her.

Eleanor was shocked, but more than a little thrilled. Spending time with Franklin was the best part of her day. She hesitated for a second before breaking into a smile, “Well what are we waiting for?”

Eleanor and Franklin flew off to the nearest church the could find, giddy in their nervous excitement. They paused outside of the church, linked their limbs and smiled at each other before walking in and saying their vows.

Authors note: The story was based off of this nursery rhyme:

FIDDLE-DE-DEE, fiddle-de-dee, 

The fly shall marry the humble-bee.

They went to the church, and married was she:

The fly has married the humble-bee.

I got the idea for the story in imagining why a fly and a bumble bee would ever meet, and what circumstances would cause them to be married.

Bibliography: The Nursery Rhyme Book, edited by Andrew Lang and illustrated by L. Leslie Brooke (1897). http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/26197?msg=welcome_stranger

Image information: This image depicting the wedding of a fly and a bumble bee was created by Zach Bellissimo and posted in 2007 on deviantart. http://seizuredemon.deviantart.com/art/A-Fly-marrying-a-Bumble-Bee-65880641