Dancing at the Crossroads : Stories and Activities for at-Risk Youth Programming 9781624910098, 9781624910081

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In Praise of Dancing at the Crossroads “Lorna Czarnota has developed theories, stories and activities for professionals that have been used by me for several years with great success. The step by step outlines for group work in the Practitioners Guide have proven invaluable to me.” Susan McCullough, M.A., M.Ed. National Board Certified School Counselor (U.S.) School Counselor, Leipzig International School Leipzig, Germany “Lorna is a dedicated storyteller who has the gift of reaching through the barriers and touching the core of young people of all ages. Her stories present opportunities for the listener (reader) to show empathy, identify and personalize situations and look for universal truths. I have seen her touch the most resistant adolescent in crisis and provide food for thought. Lorna’s stories offer a banquet for the soul.” Sylvia H. Nadler, Executive Director of Compass House (Shelter for Runaway and Homeless Youth) Buffalo, New York “At-risk youth have often lived through hard times and trauma. Many of them react to probation officers, counselors, and social workers by closing up, communicating only minimally. Stories, unlike conventional helping methods, enter the brain “sideways,” and youth can use stories to grapple with issues of identity and meaning. Lorna MacDonald Czarnota’s skill as a master storyteller and her fifteen years of experience in working with at-risk youth have produced a valuable resource.” James Winship, MSW, Ph.D. Professor and Chair of Social Work at the University of Wisconsin-Whitewater Former director of Youth Services at a settlement house. “Here in Ireland we are aware of Lorna Czarnota’s excellent work with at-risk youth and their families and also in detention centers and shelters. She demonstrates how the power of storytelling can reach those young people who are most vulnerable and give them the confidence to rebuild lives which have been shattered by events which are often outside their control. Dancing at the Crossroads will prove a valuable tool for storytellers everywhere.” Liz Weir, Storyteller Recipient of the International Storybridge Award Cushendall, Ireland

“Whether you are a provider of emotional support to another, a person in need of guidance, or someone who just wants to understand the power of story, Lorna’s thoughtful, sensitive guide won’t disappoint you. Long overdue in the field of healing story, Lorna’s deep research and thoughtful application of story provides what so many of us have been waiting for to guide us forward.” Lani Peterson, Psy.D. Co-chair, Healing Story Alliance Andover MA. “Lorna’s writings are inspirational as well as thoughtful, and full of useful approaches to the challenges of facing difficult situations and mobilizing the energies needed to achieve desired goals. Lorna’s books are packed with good advice, reference material, and a true sense of humanness. Colleges and educational opportunity centers should consider Lorna’s writings as guideposts for working effectively with the kind of wounded but motivated people that we encounter and serve.” Mike Seliger, PhD Bronx Community College Dean Executive Committee Healing Story Alliance. “The stories, methods and ideas Lorna Czarnota has compiled in Dancing at the Crossroads will help parents of adolescents learn to communicate with, accept and mentor them through the difficult teens years.” Lynn Kratz Ryan, Parent of three Grand Island, New York “It is Lorna’s caring heart that defines her work and her life. In her storytelling, writing, and workshop facilitating, her heart speaks in ways that encourage us to live, love, and learn, always with open minds and open hearts. She is an award-winning, degreed professional who allows neither accolades nor academe to interfere with the very delicate work of empowering people, especially at-risk teens.” Karima Amin, Storyteller, Author, Activist Buffalo, New York. “This body of work by Lorna Czarnota, compiled over fifteen years in practice using story to reach at-risk youth, is a long time coming and will prove invaluable to caregivers, practitioners and storytellers. Lorna includes everything that might be needed to work one-on-one or with groups of youth, and has taken great care to focus on compassion and understanding in her work with this population.” Allison M. Cox, MA Counseling Psychology Graduate Certificate in Public Health co-editor and contributor to the Healing Heart books. State of Washington

Dancing at the Crossroads

Other Books by Lorna MacDonald Czarnota Medieval Tales that Kids Can Read and Tell Legends, Lore and Secrets of Western New York Wicked Niagara: the Sinister Side of the Niagara Frontier Breadline Blue Dancing at the Crossroads: A Guide for Practitioners in At-Risk Youth Programming Dancing at the Crossroads: A Guide for Caregivers in At-Risk Youth Programming

American and Pioneer Sites of Upstate New York: Westward Trails From Albany to Buffalo

Audio Recordings Crossroads: Stories of Choice and Empowerment Dancing in Dark Waters

Dancing at the Crossroads

Stories and Activities for At-Risk Youth Programs

Lorna MacDonald Czarnota

Parkhurst Brothers Publishers MARION • MICHIGAN

Dancing at the Crossroads: Stories and Activities for At-Risk Youth Programs Copyright 2014 by Lorna Czarnota. All rights reserved under the laws and treaties of the United States of America and all international copyright conventions and treaties. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief passages quoted within news or blog features about the book, reviews, etc., without the express prior written consent of Permissions Director, Parkhurst Brothers, Inc., Publishers, Inc. www.parkhurstbrothers.com Parkhurst Brothers books are distributed to the trade through the Chicago Distribution Center, and may be ordered through Ingram Book Company, Baker & Taylor, Follett Library Resources and other book industry wholesalers. To order from Chicago Distribution Center, phone 1-800-621-2736 or send a fax to 800-621-8476. Copies of this and other Parkhurst Brothers Inc., Publishers titles are available to organizations and corporations for purchase in quantity by contacting Special Sales Department at our home office location, listed on our web site. Manuscript submission guidelines for this publishing company are available at our web site. Printed in the United States of America First Edition, 2014 2018 2017 2016 2015 2014

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ISBN: Trade Paperback 9781624910081 Cataloging in Publication Data will be available on the publisher’s website

Edited and with Cover and Page design by: MyLinda Butterworth Acquired for Parkhurst Brothers Inc., Publishers by: Ted Parkhurst This book is printed on archival-quality paper that meets requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences, Permanence of Paper, Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

s To Peanut. You’ve never been alone on the journey. You took me along for the ride.

Acknowledgments

Thank you to the many people who helped with and supported this work. To my publisher Ted Parkhurst for bringing this important work to fruition and to editor and book-designer MyLinda Butterworth for her attention to detail. Diana Koch, for collaborating on the clinical portions of this project, and for her constant friendship, support, and mentorship. Sylvia Nadler of Compass House, Mark O’Brien, formerly of Hopevale Incorporated, and Sister Janet of TRY house. Your work with at-risk youth inspired me and what I have learned from you is priceless. Dan Keding for consenting the use of his original the Two Warriors. Laura Simms for graciously offering her version of the Black Prince. To the early readers who gave feedback on my programs, you are so important to this work. Susan McCullough, Lani Peterson, Maya Opavska, and Karima Amin. My loving life partner, Thomas Heim, without whose support I could not even do my work, and my niece Charisse, who taught me how to love unconditionally. My parents, David and Mary MacDonald whose love of children inspired me, and who taught me about the world. You are missed more than you could know. I know you would have been proud to hold this book in your hands.

D A N C I N G AT T H E C R O S S R O A D S

Contents Preface xi

Part One: The Stories Crossroads Dancing 3 Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell 7 A Moth to the Flame 12 The Boy Who Thought He Was a Man 16 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight 18 Footprints in the Snow 25 Little Red Rides With a Hood 30 Vassalisa 37 The Weeping Lass 42 The Magic Tapestry 45 The Empty Cage 51 The Selkie 54 Mr. Fox 57 Grain of Rice 62 The Youth and His Eagle 64 Mary Culhane and the Deadman 70 The Secrets of Heaven and Hell 75 Monk and the Moon 76 Dancing in Dark Waters 77 Tamlin 79 The Stonecutter 84 Clam and Bird 86 Wolves in My Heart 87 Bundle of Sticks 88 Pandora’s Box 90

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Room with Two Beds 94 The Two Warriors 96 Philamondre 98 Star Woman’s Basket 100

Part Two: Activities 101 Appendix I : Resource Help List 143 Appendix II: Materials Resource List 144 Bibliography 147 Story Notations 149 Index 153 About the Author 155

D A N C I N G AT T H E C R O S S R O Welcome to the Crossroads, the place where we dance when we experience A changes in our lives. The Crossroads is a place of wildness, but it is here we D S can be remade.

Preface

Crossroads offers a unique way to reach and motivate at-risk youth, and the support they need for their own roles in these relationships. The author hopes to encourage all adults to find ways of taking part in the lives of young people, to mentor and partner with youth for a brighter future. Our teens will be grown in a very short time and we need to take responsibility for them, whether they are our own children or our community’s children. Looking at them, we see ourselves. The stories in this collection have been used successfully with at-risk youth in the Crossroads programs at runaway shelters, resource centers, residential treatment facilities, group homes and one-on-one since 1995. Some stories in this collection have also been used with abused women and communities in crisis. The collection and follow-up activities are designed to be used in conjunction with specific curriculum for programs in these situations but stand alone in their messages of hope and empowerment. While this book is intended to be used by the groups mentioned above, it will also be of interest to parents, grandparents, teachers, ministers, counselors, storytellers and other caregivers in these settings. You can never have too many stories in your pocket. In this book, the reader will find stories and some activities including question and answer sessions as well as art activities designed to facilitate discussion and to act as triggers to help the reader remember the stories when needed. In some cases the reader may be encouraged to create a story of their own or recall a story from his or her own life. These activities may be used in any number of settings from the classroom to the counselor’s office and group sessions within the various facilities that service youth. Each story

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PREFACE includes a brief synopsis to help readers find a story that meets their needs. The author’s adaptations of traditional stories are included in their entirety for the reader’s convenience. Stories that are written, adapted, or are already published by other tellers are provided in a synopsis along with cited sources, unless permission was granted to print the entire story. Every effort has been made to credit sources. Story titles that include activities are labeled as such (activities available) for convenience to the reader. These activities may be found in the last section of this book. Please note that additional stories are included in A Guide for Caregivers in At-Risk Youth Programming. Additional information on how to use stories in various venues along with step by step programming can be found in A Guide for Practitioners in At-Risk Youth Programming.

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Part One

The Stories

D A N C I N G AT T H E

Crossroads Dancing Celtic interpretation of an African folktale Activity on page 103

Two women, one generous, one greedy, send their sons to the crossroads to retrieve the flutes they have left there. The generous woman’s son only accepts what is his. When offered a choice of bags he takes the smallest. He receives the greatest rewards for his actions. As for the greedy woman’s son, he chooses the largest bag. Both the greedy boy and his mother are punished for their selfishness.

k Once there were two women and each had a son. The first women’s name was Blossom. She was very beautiful, but inside she was mean and stingy. She never did anything for anyone unless it benefited her and that was how she raised her son. The second woman was named Twig and she was ugly. She was so ugly that the cows refused to give milk, the grass dried up and shriveled at her feet, and when the river saw her coming it turned around and ran the other way. Inside Twig was beautiful, kind and generous. Anyone who needed anything could count on Twig to give it. Her son was just like her. Twig’s son also had a very special talent. He played the flute. Anytime the people took their sheep to graze, Twig’s son played, and the sheep stayed right where they belonged. They did not stray. They did not get lost. At the end of the day, the people took their sheep home again feeling as though they had not worked at all. Then one day, when the people were herding their sheep homeward, the boy stopped his mother and said, “Oh mother, I cannot find my flute. I must have left it near the tree where we rested.”

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THE STORIES Twig replied, “It must wait until morning. You would have to go through the crossroads and that is a dangerous place. The spirits dance there.” Before his mother could finish her words her son ran away into the coming darkness. Twig returned home and waited on the doorstep for his return. The boy walked alone through the wilderness and came at last to the crossroads. As his mother had warned there were the spirits dancing. They swooped through the trees and down to the ground. The boy was afraid but he saw his flute on the ground in the middle of the crossroads. He knew how much his playing meant to the people so he bent to pick it up. The flute vanished before his hand touched it. In its place stood a huge spirit, taller than the trees. The King of Spirits’ voice echoed, “Why have you come?” “To get my flute,” the boy answered. The King of Spirits held out a flute made of silver. “Is this your flute?” “No,” replied the boy. The spirit held out a flute of gold. “Is this your flute?” Again, the boy answered no. Finally the spirit held out a simple hand-carved flute made of wood. “Is this your flute?” “Yes,” said the boy. “That’s it.” “Thank you,” said Twig’s son as he turned to leave. He took no more than three steps when the King of Spirits disappeared, then reappeared blocking his way. The spirit held three bags—a small bag, a medium, and a large one. “You may choose one!” Twig’s son felt no greed and took the smallest bag. When he returned home his mother did not see the bag. All she noticed was her son and she wrapped her arms around him. The boy presented the bag to his mother. They carried it into the house, put it on a table and with the doors and windows open, they untied the bag. Treasure of gold, silver, jewels, clothes, food, and farm tools spilled from the bag. So much came from the bag that it filled the house. The treasures

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R poured out the door and windows and into the yard. The boy and his mother O had so much they shared it with everyone in the village. S On seeing the wonderful things Twig and her son had, Blossom decided S that she too should have such a bag. R O “Why shouldn’t I have so many gowns to wear? Why shouldn’t I have A those jewels to adorn my beauty? I, I, I. Me, me, me. My, my, my.” D To her son, Blossom said, “Tomorrow you will leave your flute!” S

“But Mother, I don’t play the flute.” “You’ll learn.” Blossom’s son was more afraid of his mother than any spirit. He carved a flute of wood the next day, although he couldn’t play it. He made noise that drove the sheep crazy. They strayed here and there and got completely lost. At the end of the day the people were exhausted from chasing them. The villagers started for home and the boy told his mother, “Oh my, I have forgotten my flute.” Unlike Twig, Blossom sent her son into the darkness “Well, go and get it then.” She returned home and waited for her treasure. The boy wandered through the darkness alone and afraid. But his fear of his mother gave him the courage to enter the crossroads even with the spirits dancing there. He saw his flute in the center of the road where he had left it. When he bent to pick it up, the King of Spirits appeared. “Why have you come?” I came to get my flute,” he stuttered. The King of Spirits held out a silver flute. “Is this your flute?” “No, that’s not it,” said the boy. The spirit held out a golden flute. “Is this your flute?” The boy smiled. “Yes, that’s it!” He took the golden flute and tucked it in his belt. Then turned to walk away without so much as thank you. The King of Spirits blocked his path. He held three bags. “You may choose one!”

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THE STORIES The boy’s greedy eyes grew wide. He grabbed the largest bag and the spirit vanished. That bag was so big and heavy he couldn’t lift it. He had to drag it home behind him. When Blossom’s son arrived home she only saw the bag and wrapped her arms around it. Finally noticing her son, she ordered him to help drag it into the house. They closed the shutters and locked the doors so nobody could see what they were doing and then they opened the bag. Darkness spilled from that bag until it filled the house. Blossom and her son could not see each other, let alone the door. There was no place else for that darkness to go. It completely devoured them and they have never been seen since. They say if you go to that village today you will find a house that is dark and boarded up. No one ever goes there. You will also find Twig and her son who will share with you whatever you might need. Every village has these places and these people. You need only to look and you will find them.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E

Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell An Arthurian Legend Activity on page 105

King Arthur meets the Green Knight and must either find the answer to his riddle, “What does a woman want most?” or return to fight the knight in mortal combat. True to his word, Arthur returns to the Green Knight’s abode to do battle one year later. Meanwhile, he has discovered the answer to the riddle. Dame Ragnell, the enchanted sister of the Green Knight, gives Arthur the answer with the promise that she can marry one of his knights. She chooses Sir Gawain, the youngest and most honorable knight of the Round Table. What does a woman want most? The right to choose her path in life. Sir Gawain also gains a rich reward for his choices.

k King Arthur was the greatest of Briton’s kings. He brought peace to the land and so needed no bodyguard or weapon when he went hunting. The king entered a dense forest and when he found a magnificent white stag. Arthur drew his bow and shot. The arrow vanished before it hit its mark. There in the stag’s place was a fierce knight. He was green from head to toe. His hair was green! His armor was green! Even his skin was green! He was the Green Knight. “Who dares to hunt in my sacred forest? Who hunts my sacred stag?” his voice boomed. “Your forest?” laughed Arthur. “I am Arthur, King of Briton and this forest is in my kingdom. Therefore, you and everything in it belong to me.” “Well Arthur, king though you may be—today you die.” The Green Knight lowered his lance to charge.

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THE STORIES Arthur held up his hand. “Halt Sir Knight. I have no weapon or armor with which to properly fight you. I will return to Camelot and fetch them, then we shall fight.” “Arthur, you will return in one year and a day and I will slay you or if you prefer you may answer a riddle.” While Arthur was a great knight he was certain the Green Knight could beat him. Besides, riddles tested a man’s wit. “Ask your riddle then.” “What does a woman desire most in this world?” the Green Knight asked. Then he disappeared. Arthur returned to Camelot and fell on his knees before his lady wife, Guinevere. “My wife, you are the wisest woman in the land. You can save my life if you answer this riddle. What does a woman want most in this world?” Guinevere did not have to think long. “Why any woman would want a husband such as you, my lord.” The king thought this was a good answer, but he did not think it was the right one. He thanked his wife and prepared to journey in search of a correct answer. Arthur asked everyone he saw, but none had an answer he felt was suitable. He asked a group of ladies scrubbing their clothes in the river. They answered, “Leisure time. Time to rest and cool themselves, My Lord.” As with Guinevere’s reply, this seemed reasonable, but not quite right. Arthur asked merchants in the market square of a small city. They said, “Jewelry, dresses, and husbands to spend money.” The day arrived when Arthur would battle the Green Knight and he did not have an answer that satisfied him. King Arthur was passing through a swamp on his way to the forest when he noticed the bushes rustling. “A wild boar,” he thought. “If only I had my bow and arrows.” What came from those bushes was no wild boar. Oh, it had a snout for a nose and tusks for teeth, but it was a woman! Her cracked skin was covered in open oozing sores. Her hair was matted with sticks and mud, and her scalp crawled with all kinds of insects. She smelled like rotting flesh.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Arthur come closer,” she hissed. Arthur drew away in disgust. “I know O the answer to the riddle.” S The king knew this might be his last chance to find the answer so he cauS tiously came forward. The woman whispered in his ear. He smiled. R O “Lady if you are right, I shall reward you. If you are wrong say a prayer for A me, for today I may die.” D Without another word or glance Arthur mounted his horse and rode into S

the forest to meet his fate. The Green Knight was waiting for him. “Arthur I see you have returned. Now I will slay you,” cried the Green Knight lowering his lance. “Sir Knight, I will fight you if I must for I am no coward, but you gave me a riddle to answer and so I shall,” Arthur reminded. “Then be quick about it!” said the knight impatiently. “Well,” said Arthur. “My lady wife said that a woman would want a man like me, but beneath these robes I am merely flesh and bone. I do not think that is what a woman desires most. Many women said leisure time, time to rest in the shade. Although leisure time is what they deserve, too much is meaningless. And, the merchants said jewelry and dresses but these things fade in time. No,” said Arthur. “I think that what a woman desires most in this world is her sovereignty. The right to choose her own life.” “Oh my sister told you!” cried the Green Knight and he vanished in a puff of green smoke. King Arthur rode back to the swamp. He found the hideous lady waiting. “Lady,” said Arthur with a bow of his head. He held out his hand to help her mount. “You have saved my life and now I will reward you. First, might I know your name?” “I am Dame Ragnell,” she hissed. “Then Dame Ragnell, we will away to Camelot and your reward!” Off they rode with flies buzzing round their heads. When they arrived in Camelot, Arthur told all there assembled, “This Lady saved my life and now she shall be rewarded.” He turned to Dame Ragnell, “What do you want?”

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THE STORIES “Oh, I thought you’d never ask. I would marry a knight of the Round Table.” There was an audible gasp as Dame Ragnell circled the Round Table. She looked at every knight. “Bedawyr. Lancelot. Ah, Sir Gawain, I would have you!” “No,” the ladies of the court whispered. “Not Sir Gawain. Not the handsomest. Not the bravest. Not the knight we would have for ourselves!” But the choice was made and Arthur’s words final. Sir Gawain could have and perhaps should have run away, but he was a knight of great honor. He rose, took the lady’s hand in his, covered in sores though it was, and kissed it. “If it is my king’s will and yours, I will marry you.” They were married that very day. There was a great feast in honor of the wedding. But no one danced though the musicians played. And who could eat! Everyone stared at the new bride who sat beside Sir Gawain at high table. She had been bathed, but the sores returned and spoiled her gown. They washed her hair but it still crawled with bugs. The bride tore her food apart with her hands, grease running down her arms, drool down her chin. Then, she stuck her face in her water bowl like a wild animal. Finally, it was time for the wedding-night when the bride and groom would be alone together. Gawain took his wife’s hand and led her away to the bedchamber, where it was dark and he was glad it was. Dame Ragnell sat at the foot of the bed. “Husband,” she rasped. “Will you not light a candle to look at your new bride?” Gawain did not wish to look at her, but he obeyed her wish. Candlelight can make a woman look beautiful, but Dame Ragnell was just as homely by candle light as under the sun. “Husband, will you not kiss your new wife?” He really had to think about this, but Gawain was clever. He kissed her cheek. “No, not that kind of kiss,” Ragnell hissed. “I want a proper kiss as a husband should give his wife.” She puckered.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R He could not refuse the wish of a lady let alone his own wife, so Gawain O closed his eyes and held his breath. He kissed Ragnell full upon the lips. S The room was filled with the scent of wild flowers and when Gawain S opened his eyes, there sitting on the bed was the most beautiful woman he R O had ever seen. A “What did you do with my wife?” D In a voice as soft as a breeze, she replied, “Gawain, I am your wife.” S

Gawain was confused. “You can’t be, my wife is a hag!” “Gawain, I am your wife.” “But how...” “Husband, in marrying me of your own free will and kissing me of your own free will, you broke the spell put on me by my brother.” Now Dame Ragnell looked very sad, “But alas, it is only half broken. I can only be as you see me half the day. The other half, I will be the hideous hag you first married. You must choose husband. Would you have me beautiful by day that your friends will say what a wife you have and hideous when we are alone? Or hideous by day that your friends will ridicule me, throw stones at me, and beautiful when we are alone? Choose my husband.” Gawain did not have to think about this. He fell on his knees and took his wife’s hands in his. “My wife, it is not my choice, it is yours. You must choose how you would live your life.” A glow filled the room as Ragnell spoke. “Oh my husband, you have made me the happiest of women. In recognizing my right to choose, you have broken the spell completely. I choose to be as you see me now, always.” So it was that Dame Ragnell and Sir Gawain lived out their lives in Camelot together. They were Camelot’s happiest and most beautiful couple.

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THE STORIES

A Moth to the Flame written by

Lorna MacDonald Czarnota Activity on page 109

A young wife decides to leave an abusive husband. She gives the ticket seller at the bus depot an account of growing up with an abusive father and marrying into a similar situation. The ticket seller convinces Becky that her decision to leave is the right choice.

k The blood on Becky’s cracked lip had begun to dry by the time she stepped from the bedroom into the living room. The door creaked loudly on its hinges. Becky froze, hoping Jeff wouldn’t wake. The only other sound was a low hiss from the television station that had gone off the air an hour before. In the grey glow from the TV, Becky saw Jeff sprawled out in a drunken stupor on the sofa. He didn’t move. Becky walked across the living room toward the front door. Her foot kicked something in the dark. An empty whiskey bottle rolled under a table. Jeff still didn’t wake. She only looked back once. In that light, while he was sleeping, he looked so childlike and innocent. Maybe she could fix it. Try once more. But no, she tasted blood. There were too many pieces missing. Becky clutched her black canvas satchel a little closer to her chest. She stuffed the fistful of dollar bills she’d taken from Jeff ’s top dresser drawer into her pocket and stepped into the night. It was cold and dark; a light rain had begun to fall. By the time Becky walked the six blocks to the bus depot, she was completely soaked. A man carrying a sleeping child to a waiting taxi held the door for his wife. Becky slipped past them.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R Inside, there were only one or two passengers waiting for their buses and a O little woman behind the ticket counter. Becky hadn’t noticed her at first. She S was so tiny that her chin barely reached the counter. Her face was obscured by S wrinkles and her hair was wrapped in a turban-like bandana. Becky couldn’t R tell what color it was. O A “Can I help you?” D Becky put some dollars on the counter. “I need a ticket.” S “Where to?”

Where? She hadn’t really thought of where. Anywhere would have been better than here. She had second thoughts. What if Jeff needed her when he woke? His head was going to hurt. Becky put the money back in her pocket and turned to leave. The office door opened and the little woman stood in the doorway, surrounded by golden light. “My name’s Mildred. Why don’t you come in for a while?” Becky didn’t know why she followed, but she did. The office wasn’t plain and stuffy like she thought it would be. Instead she found herself sitting at a chrome and laminate table in a brightly colored orange and yellow kitchen. Before she knew it, a steaming mug of tea was cupped between her hands. “You gonna tell me how you hurt yourself?” Mildred asked. Becky wanted to tell her that she ran into a door. Instead, she told her what really happened.

k

Pa left my ma when I was a little girl, but it didn’t take Ma too long to find herself another good-looking man. He was a traveling salesman and so handsome. He was good to us. Pa brought a gift whenever he’d come home, but after a while he started losing customers. That’s when the yelling started. Then one night, I heard a loud thud. My ma screamed and then she cried. When she came out of the bedroom, she had a black eye. “Mamma, what happened?” I asked. “I ran into a door,” she said. One night, Mamma must have run into a big door because she had a cut over her eye. When I tried to help her, Pa picked me up and slammed

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THE STORIES me against the wall. I heard a crack and pain shot up my arm. Ma stepped between us. “Don’t you ever touch my girl.” He picked up the first thing he could find and smashed it over Ma’s head. Then he stormed out the door. Ma got down on her knees and wiped the hair out of my eyes. She dried my tears. “Baby Girl, I’m gonna take you to the hospital and them doctors are gonna fix your arm up right. But Baby Girl, you gotta promise me when them doctors ask about your arm, you tell them you fell down the stairs. Because Baby Girl, if you tell them about your pa they’ll take him away, and I love him, Baby Girl. And I know he loves us. He don’t mean it. He’s just on some hard times. Promise, Baby Girl.” Well, when them doctors asked I told them, “I fell down the stairs and Ma hurt herself trying to help me.” Pa never did come back and things got a whole lot better after that. Before I knew it, I was all grown up and in high school. That’s where I met Jeff. Jeff was captain of the high school football team and a good-looking man. When he stood on the field in his jersey, he took my breath away. “Becky, one day I’m gonna take you away. We’ll get married; have cars, and a house. And Becky, you can even have a kid or two if you like. Wasn’t that nice of Jeff?” We did get married and it was the happiest time of my life. Then one day Jeff started to change. Maybe it was that accident his baby brother had. His brother was driving drunk and Jeff knew he should have taken the keys, he just didn’t and that was a mistake. He never did forgive himself for that. Jeff started drinking all the time and when he was drinking, he reminded me of my pa in so many ways. Some people get all funny when they drink, but Jeff and Pa just got mean. I was working two jobs so Jeff could stay by the phone. He was hoping one of them big football scouts would call. He could have had a promising career, they told him in high school. One night I came home after working late and Jeff was already drunk. He was hungry but never thought to fix it for himself. Jeff wanted his supper and

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R wanted it right then. I didn’t even have my coat off when he jumped me and O threw me against the wall with his hands around my throat. S “Woman,” he said. “You get my supper and you get it now or I’m gonna S wring your neck.” R O I ran into a lot of doors after that. A D When Becky finished her story, Mildred went to the window and opened S

it just a crack. Then she turned off the lights. The bright orange and yellow kitchen was plunged into darkness. She struck a match and lit a candle on the table in front of Becky. Mildred sat across from her. Becky watched the fire dance in the old woman’s eyes. A moth flew into the room and around the candle flame once, twice, three times, and dove into the fire. Becky watched as its wings curled up and it died. Then another moth flew in. It somersaulted around Becky’s head and dove into the flame like the first one. In the half glow of the candle, Becky looked at the window and saw the moths just lining up outside, fighting to get in to the fire, beating their wings against the glass. A small white moth flew into the room, but before it could dive to its death, with hands much too quick for such an old woman, Mildred reached up and caught it in mid-flight. She held her fist out to Becky, the moth’s wings still beating against her fingers. “What do you think this moth is gonna do when I open my hand?” “Let it fly. Let it fly,” Becky wished. When Mildred opened her hand, it flew straight into the fire and died. Mildred reached over and took Becky’s hands in hers. “Now, what are you gonna do?” Becky slid the dollar bills from her pocket across the table. She took a deep breath and blew out the candle.

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THE STORIES

The Boy Who Thought He Was a Man A Seneca Folktale Activity on page 116

“Do you know who your friends are? Do you know when someone really does not want your help and you should walk away?” In this short story, a boy finds a snake trapped under a rock. The snake begs the boy for help, but the boy is afraid that the snake will bite him. The snake is most menacing, but with sweet words and promises convinces the boy that helping him is safe. After aiding the snake by removing the rock, the snake strangles the boy. In horror, the boy reminds the snake of its promise, and the snake reminds the boy of its nature. “I’m a snake. What did you expect?”

k Sooner or later every boy on his way to becoming a man and every man on his way to becoming a memory, will climb the great mountain. At the base of a great mountain there was a village. In that village there lived a boy. Each year on his birthday he asked his father “Is it time for me to climb the mountain?” “No,” his father replied. “Not yet. You have many other mountains to climb before climbing that mountain.” One day when the boy’s father was away, the boy went against his father’s wishes and climbed the mountain. He wandered up the twisting path where so many others had gone before him. As he was climbing, his foot caught on a rock and it tumbled down the mountainside. The boy continued until he reached the summit. He looked out over the spreading landscape below, raised his arms and shouted, “I am a man! My father will be proud of me.”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R Satisfied, the boy began his descent. Picking his way carefully down toO ward the village, the boy passed the rock he had set loose earlier. There was S a snake pinned under it and the snake begged the boy to help him. Its voice S was no more than a soft soothing whisper. R O “Boy,” the snake said. “Won’t you get this rock off my back?” A The boy paused. “No, you’re a snake and you might bite me. Besides, why D would I want to help you?” S

“Boy, if you get the rock off my back you’ll feel good. You do want to feel good, don’t you?” The boy thought about it. He bent over and rolled the rock off the snake. At once the snake began coiling itself around and around the boy. Then it began to squeeze. “Wait! What are you doing?” cried the boy. “You promised not to hurt me.” As the snake now towered over the boy it said, “I’m a snake, boy. What did you expect?” And the boy who thought he was a man was never seen again.

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THE STORIES

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight An Arthurian Legend Activity on page 119

Sir Gawain, Arthur’s most honorable knight, loses his honor by not keeping a promise. He acts in a most un-chivalrous manner. On his way to be “honorably” beheaded by the Green Knight, which is part of a bargain he made, Sir Gawain is given hospitality at a wealthy man’s castle. In a competition between himself and the castle’s owner, Sir Gawain must share everything he receives while his host is out hunting. His host shares the best of his kill with Sir Gawain. Meanwhile, the man’s wife has been instructed to seduce Sir Gawain. Each time she kisses him, Sir Gawain must then kiss her husband in a like manner or break their deal. As it turns out, the lady gives Sir Gawain her belt, promising it will protect him from harm. Gawain decides not tell her husband this. Her husband is the Green Knight in disguise and teaches Sir Gawain of his wrongdoing when they finally meet for Sir Gawain’s beheading. The shame of his decisions is something Sir Gawain carries with him for the rest of his life. Yet, he becomes stronger and more experienced.

k It was the custom in the court of King Arthur on New Year’s Eve that no lord or lady would leave the feasting hall until a miracle had occurred. Each year it had been so, but on this New Year’s Eve everyone waited and waited and nothing happened. Just at that time between this day and the next, a hush fell upon the earth. They heard the sound of a horse’s hooves on the cobblestone outside the doors. The doors to Arthur’s great hall burst open. A whirlwind of leaves and debris skittered into the room. A huge steed followed it; ears plastered to the side of its head, nostrils flaring, and eyes on fire, hooves dancing in the air. The rider on its back was even more fierce—

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R the Green Knight. He was green from head to toe. He held a great twoO headed battle-ax in one hand. S The Green Knight rode to Arthur’s table, burying the head of the ax into S the wood just inches from Arthur’s face. R O “Knights of the Round Table, let one of you take up my weapon and strike A me, then I will strike him in turn.” D No one moved. S

“Knights of the Round Table, you are cowards!” Now Arthur himself stood, but before Arthur could speak Sir Gawain, the youngest and most rash of his knights said, “My King, this is not for you. It is for me!” Gawain strode around the table. It took both his hands and all his strength to free the ax from the table. The Green Knight knelt before him. Gawain raised the ax and severed the Green Knight’s head from his shoulders. They held their breath as the huge body swayed from side to side. They waited for it to fall but the Green Knight reached for his head with one hand and took the ax from Gawain with the other. The head spoke, “Sir Gawain, you will meet me in a year and a day at the green chapel and receive your blow.” The Green Knight then leapt upon his horse and rode off into the coming day. No one moved for a long time. Finally in silence, they went home. For days no one would speak of what they had seen or heard. Yet, Gawain knew the bargain he had made. He practiced for battle each day. Gawain did not know the whereabouts of the green chapel, so he left on his journey early in the fall to search for it. He asked each person he found, but none knew. “No, Sir Knight, I do not know.” “I fear, Sir Knight, I cannot tell.” Finally, it was just three days before Gawain would meet the Green Knight and his doom. Light rain had begun to fall and Gawain was soaked to the skin. He rode through a strange forest and came to a clearing where there was a great manor house.

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THE STORIES Gawain pounded on the door “Let me in. I am a knight seeking shelter from the storm!” A servant answered the door and led Gawain to a feasting hall. There was a table that spanned the entire room and it was laden with food and drink of every kind. At one end of the table sat a large man in a fine robe—the lord of the manor. “Come Sir Knight, sit, eat, rest, and we will talk.” Sir Gawain told his host about the Green Knight, the green chapel, and what he had to do. “Ah my friend, you are in luck. This place you seek is just an hour’s ride from this house,” his host smiled. “But as you say, you have three days before you must meet this Green Knight and do battle. Until then, why not remain here and enjoy my hospitality?” Gawain liked this idea for indeed the place was most comfortable and his host was pleasant. “And,” his host added, “We will bide our time in a game. I will hunt each day and share the best of what I find with you. Whatever you receive in my absence, you will share with me. Is this to your liking?” Indeed, Sir Gawain welcomed the diversion and the two men shook hands on it. They talked into the night and then each went to his room to sleep. Bright and early the next morning, the lord of the manor went hunting. Gawain remained in bed. He was in no hurry to start the day and lay there enjoying the appointments of the room. The walls were covered in splendid tapestries and the furniture made of exotic woods. At that moment, the door creaked open and a finger of light crossed the room, touching the bed. There, standing the doorway, surrounded in light, was the most beautiful woman Gawain had ever seen. She seemed to float as she crossed the room to sit at the foot of the bed. Gawain pulled the covers up to his chin. “Lady, it is not seemly for you to be in my chamber. What do you want?” The lady laughed, “Sir Gawain, I am the lady of this house and I come and go as it pleases me.” She paused, a knowing smile on her face and added “It pleases me to ask you for a kiss.”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R Gawain thought to himself that he could not kiss his host’s wife and yet, O to refuse the wish of a lady was against the code of chivalry. The lady would S be dishonored. Gawain, being a clever man, took the lady’s hand in his and S kissed it. R O The lady pulled her hand free and looked at it. A “What kind of kiss was that for a great knight of the Round Table?” she D asked. “But, it must do for I must attend to business.” S

She left as gracefully as she had come. Sir Gawain spent the rest of his day lazing about, enjoying the man’s gardens and library. At the end of the day, his host returned from the hunt with a deer slung over his shoulder. This he took to the kitchen and had its heart cut out. The heart was presented to Gawain–the best of what he had found that day. After the two men had feasted, his host leaned forward, “I have shared with you, my friend. Now you must share with me.” Sir Gawain blushed. He rose and walked to stand before his host. He took the man’s hand in his, a hand as big as Gawain’s face, and kissed it. “Ho ha!” his host laughed. “I like you! You are a man of honor, a man of his word!” He slapped Gawain on the back, nearly sending him across the room. “We shall do this again tomorrow!” Gawain agreed. The next day was the same as the last. His host went hunting and Gawain rested late into the morning. The door to his room opened and that beautiful woman stood there. Again, she seemed to float across the room. She sat closer to Gawain. He pulled the covers up to his neck, “Lady? What do you want?” She smiled. “I want a kiss.” Gawain, still a clever man on all accounts, leaned forward. The lady closed her eyes. She smelled of sweet perfume. Gawain felt for one moment light headed, then he kissed her cheek. “Gawain you are a silly man, but it will have to do.” And the lady left.

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THE STORIES Near the day’s end Gawain’s host returned from hunting. This time he held a brace of hares, one larger than the other. He had the largest cooked and served to Gawain. When the men had feasted, his host sat back. “I am anxious to see what you have to share today, my friend,” his host smiled. Gawain rose and walked to the end of the table. He bent forward, kissed one bearded cheek, and then the other. “Ho ha!” his host cried. “I like you! A man of honor! A man of honor, indeed! Let us do this again tomorrow.” Gawain gave his host his hand on it. Bright and early the next day, Gawain’s host went on the hunt once more. The door to Gawain’s room opened. There stood the lady with her hair cascading down her shoulders like water. She sat beside Gawain. He felt frozen in place, overpowered by her presence. The lady leaned over Gawain, her hair making a curtain about his face. Their lips were nearly touching. “Kiss me,” she whispered. He could not resist and kissed her lips. “Now,” she said. “That is a kiss. I have something else I’d like to give you.” Gawain sat up and held up his hand before him. “Lady, you have given me enough already. I cannot take anything else.” The lady smiled and unbuckled a green belt from her waist. “Gawain, I wish to give you my belt.” “No,” Gawain insisted. “I could not be seen with it.” “Gawain. This is no ordinary belt. As long as you wear it, no weapon can do you harm. You can hide it under your shirt where no one will see it.” Gawain thought about his head on his shoulders, where he liked it very much, and took the belt. He fastened it about his waist, pulling his shirt over it. When the lord of the manor returned from the hunt, he had captured a small wild bird. He had it prepared for his guest. The men talked, ate, and when they were finished his host sat back with his belly full.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Now my friend, I am most eager to see what you received this day.” O Gawain walked to the end of the table and stood before his host. He S leaned forward until their lips were nearly touching and kissed him full upon S the lips! R O “I like you. I like you. I like you!” his host exclaimed. He shook his head A and smiled. “You are truly a man of honor. I wonder, is there anything else?” D Gawain felt the belt beneath his shirt. He looked his host in the eye. “No S

my lord, there is nothing else.” “Very well,” said his host. “Then on the morrow I will show you the way to the green chapel.”

The day dawned fair and the two men rode to the edge of the forest. Gawain’s host pointed the way. “Just one hour’s ride in that direction and you will find the place you seek,” he looked at Gawain. “You will be missed.” Gawain rode toward his doom. As his host had promised, within the hour Gawain came to a place in the autumn forest where the leaves were still green upon the trees. The forest opened to a glade. There stood the Green Knight waiting, his axe planted firmly before him. He motioned for Gawain to come forward. Gawain dismounted and moved slowly into the glade his eyes upon his foe, his hand upon the belt beneath his shirt. He came before the Green Knight. Fully aware of his promise and willing to keep it, Gawain knelt. “Make my death swift, my lord,” he pleaded. Without a word, the Green Knight raised his axe and brought it down toward Gawain’s bent head. Arthur’s knight felt a rush of air as the blade passed his left ear. The Green Knight missed. Gawain felt a knot twist in his stomach. The Green Knight raised the axe again. This time Gawain felt the axe blade pass his right ear. He missed again! The knot twisted so tightly in Gawain’s stomach he could no longer bear it. He leapt to his feet and began running toward his horse, but the Green Knight called him back.

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THE STORIES “My lord, where is your honor?” Gawain stopped in his tracks. A man is nothing without honor and a knight is far less. Gawain returned to his knees. “Please my lord, I beg you make it swift.” The Green Knight lifted the axe again and brought it down upon Gawain’s neck. But, he did not sever Gawain’s head. He just nicked the skin so that Gawain felt a trickle of blood run down his shoulder. Gawain rose quickly to his feet and reached for his sword, not looking at his opponent. “Now we shall fight as men should fight!” The voice that replied was somehow strange and calm. “Gawain, it is finished.” Gawain looked up surprised to find, not the Green Knight standing before him, but his host of the last three days. Bewildered Gawain said, “I don’t understand. What trickery is this?” “Gawain, I am your host and the Green Knight as well.” He changed from one to the other that Gawain could see it was so. “I don’t understand,” said Gawain. “Why do you do this?” “Sir Knight, I sent my wife to test you. You failed the test. I missed with the first blow for the kiss upon my hand. It was the best you received that day. The second blow I missed for the kiss upon my cheek, you did as you promised. But, with the third I drew blood for what you did not share.” Gawain hung his head in shame. To save his own life, he had lost his honor. He removed the belt and handed it to its rightful owner. His host, the Green Knight, took the belt and handed it back to him. “Now Gawain, I give you this belt as a gift. Wear it always to remind you of the day that you were less than perfect.” Gawain took the belt and wore it, with the scar upon his neck, until the end of his days. He never forgot the day that he discovered what it truly meant to be a man.

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Footprints in the Snow written by

Lorna MacDonald Czarnota Activity on page 123

This story is based on a real life experience. The first half of the story is completely true. The second half is fictitious. A young girl who believes in unicorns struggles with her mother’s reality, beliefs are questioned and bonds broken. As a young woman, the girl rediscovers her belief in what she cannot see.

k The seventeen-year-old girl sat by the frozen window in her one room apartment. It was close to Christmas Eve and her eighteenth birthday. She brought her knees to her chest to get them off the cold floor. A tear streaked her cheek as she turned a small glass unicorn over and over in her hand. Snow fell past the streetlights like a thousand diamonds dancing; it drifted up beneath the windowsill. The girl watched, hopeful of seeing them again— unicorn footprints. Her thoughts wandered back to the first time she’d seen them. It was on a night much like this one, near Christmas when she was just seven. As with this night, the snow piled up beneath the window on the stairs of her mother’s house. She remembered a feeling of magic that coursed through her, making the hair rise on her arms. The magic was everywhere. First she had rubbed the glass and then her eyes, not knowing if what she saw was real. “Mommy! Mommy!” she shouted, “Come see!” Her mother, who was drying dishes in the kitchen, dropped what she was doing at her daughter’s screams. “What is it?” “Unicorn footprints in the snow, mommy. See?”

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C R O S S R O A D S

THE STORIES The worry on her mother’s face was replaced with an impatient frown. “How many times have we talked about this? You simply have to stop all this make-believe nonsense. There are no such things as unicorns or fairies or any of it. It’s make-believe.” “No mommy. They’re real. Can’t you see them?” “This has to stop, now,” her mother demanded. The girl recalled being very angry with her mother that night. She had not been able to control her feelings. How could her mother not see them? Why did her mother want to take the magic away? “You’re so stupid,” she shouted. “You can’t see them because you’re a grown up. I’m never growing up.” “Go to your room!” The small girl took two stairs at a time calling over her shoulder, “I hate you!” The bedroom door slammed. She hardly slept that night, at least until she had completely cried herself to sleep. The next morning she listened through the floor register as her mother phoned her aunt. If only her aunt had lived closer, she would have run away then and there—one hundred and fifty miles was too far away, even she knew that. The girl couldn’t hear everything her mother said but she heard the anger and guessed her aunt’s feelings. Why did her mother have to be so angry all the time? “She thinks she sees unicorns.” Silence as her aunt tried to talk on the other end. “I don’t care. I’m tired of it and I think you should say something.” More silence, but not for long. “It’s all your fault. You’re the one who told her all those stories about make-believe. Now I want you to get on the phone and tell her there are no such things as unicorns.” Her mother took a drag off her cigarette. She could hear the intake. “Well, if you don’t, you’ll never talk to her again.” Then the phone slammed into its cradle.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R It was only a matter of seconds before it rang. Her mother stomped up the O stairs, opened her door and shoved the phone at her angrily. Tears stung the S little girl’s eyes. “Your aunt has something to say to you.” S “Hello.” she said weakly as she placed the receiver to her ear. R O Her aunt spoke softly, but she could tell she’d been crying too. A “Listen to me now. I’ll never tell you a lie. You know that. Grown-ups D don’t always understand things like unicorns.” S

The little girl tried to interrupt. “No, listen,” said her aunt. “They don’t see them so you probably shouldn’t talk about them. In fact, it would be good if you don’t mention them again. You know I love you.” Don’t mention them. That’s what her aunt said, but she didn’t say they weren’t real. She didn’t say that. Relieved, her mother took back the phone but her aunt had already hung up. Her mother never heard about unicorns again. The girl didn’t talk about them. She stopped writing stories and drawing pictures of unicorns. But...she never stopped believing. At age sixteen, she ran away and took her dreams with her.

The teen leaned her cheek against the glass and rubbed at the frost that formed on the window. One year had passed since the day she left. It wasn’t like she thought it would be but she would not, could not return home. At least here she could have her thoughts and nobody could tell her they weren’t real. Everything had come full circle. It was almost Christmas again; only this time there was no one to share it with. She looked down at the glass unicorn with its silver horn, one her aunt had given her last Christmas. Then she glanced back out into the night of whiteness. Suddenly it was there again, that feeling of magic everywhere; the feeling she had all those years ago. She sat forward. Something moved just beyond the curtain of snow. At first it was like a white shadow in the snow’s brightness, it sparkled like diamonds. She rubbed her eyes. It was there. It was there! A pure white unicorn.

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THE STORIES Jumping to her feet, not wanting to miss it this time, she ran shoeless into the snow. The cold was outside but she didn’t feel it. All she felt was the magic and the warmth growing in her heart at the sight of him. Slowly she approached the magnificent beast. He turned a wary eye toward her, snorted, and shook his massive head. He stood stock still as she held out a hand and spoke softly. Her trembling fingers slid across the unicorn’s side. He shivered and she felt him move beneath her touch. He was soft. Alive. Real. Gently, the girl let her hand rest on the unicorn’s warm velvety snout. He was warm and she felt his breath on her cheek as she leaned into him. He pulled back just a little but then pushed into her side until she was able to reach up and touch the silver horn on his forehead. If only her mother could see this, she thought. She would believe then. The unicorn lowered his head and bent his knees to kneel in the snow. He was inviting her to climb on his back and she didn’t resist. She put one leg over his white body and rested easily in the small of his back. He stood. The world looked so different from high on his back, his silver horn flashed in the street light that filtered through the snow. Her bare feet felt the warmth of his sides and in a flash he took her into the mist. The phone rang and rang for days but no one answered. She didn’t come to work. She didn’t call her family. Her friends hadn’t seen her. Finally, someone called the police. When they arrived and no one answered the door, they broke it down. She sat by the window with her cheek frozen to the glass. When the ambulance arrived, they pronounced her dead. She had just frozen there on Christmas Eve without anyone knowing. Carefully, they lifted her onto the cart. A small glass unicorn fell from the girl’s hand and shattered on the floor. Snow still fell in thick drifts as the two young paramedics slid the cart into the ambulance. One of them looked over his shoulder and turned suddenly. “What’s up?” his partner asked. “Did you see that?” “No, I don’t see nothin’.” “You don’t see them footprints in the snow?”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Nah, come on man it’s cold and my kids are waiting for me.” O “Yeah, yer right.” S The ambulance door slammed with a metallic echo and the two men S slid into their seats. The driver glanced just once in the mirror to make sure R O everything was all set, but when he did he thought he saw something out of A the corner of his eye. D “What the...” the driver exclaimed. S

“What’s up?” “Aw, nothing I guess,” he admitted, but then again he was sure there was something there. His partner wouldn’t believe it so he didn’t say anything until he got home and held his daughter in his arms. “Do you know what daddy saw tonight?” his daughter looked at him wide-eyed. “I saw a white unicorn with a beautiful girl riding on it’s back in the snow.” “Really daddy?” He nodded and smiled, “Really.”

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THE STORIES

Little Red Rides With a Hood A Jazz Rap written by Lorna MacDonald Czarnota Activity on page 128

In this modern jazz/rap rendition of the classic Red Riding Hood story, a sixteenyear-old Little Red, gets her first invitation to a high school dance. Dressed in a revealing evening gown, she ignores her mother’s warnings and accepts a ride from a stranger, Jack the Hood. The adventure begins in his fancy sports car, music on the stereo, and a bottle of alcohol. Jack tries to take advantage of this budding beauty. Nevertheless, sensibility takes over and Little Red finds a way out and home to her mother. The story’s heroine learns a valuable lesson and Little Red becomes Ms. Red, an adult. She passes on her knowledge.

k Once upon a time there was a girl called Little Red, She had flaming curls upon her head, She had laughing eyes, ruby lips, A turned up nose and milk white skin, She was just sixteen, not a child or adult, A flower in bloom—it wasn’t her fault. Refrain: And her mother said, “Oh no, you really shouldn’t go, Oh no, you really oughta know, Wolf will get you if you don’t watch out, Wolf will get you, There isn’t any doubt. Oh no.”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R She lived with her mother, O Who had seen a thing or two. S She tried to tell her daughter S “There are things you don’t know, R O It’s a great big world, A Not all people are good, D So watch out where you wander, S

And beware of Mister Hood.” Repeat Refrain

Little Red wouldn’t listen, Mother’s words she wouldn’t hear, She was ready for the outside world, There was nothing there to fear, She got an invitation To the high school dance, And said “I can do it Mama, If you give me half a chance.” Repeat Refrain Her mother took her shopping, A new evening gown to buy, But the blue ones and the green ones, Her daughter wouldn’t try, She had her eye on a red dress Slit up the side, It fell down on her shoulders, Leaving little there to hide. Repeat Refrain

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THE STORIES On the day of the dance, She was anxious to get started, She took a bubble bath, And her flaming curls were parted, She hugged her mother mildly, And stepped into the night, Her feet sprouted wings, And that little girl took flight. Repeat Refrain She walked around the corner, When a fancy car drove by, The driver waved at Red And his smile it was so sly, “Hey baby,” said the driver, “Does your mother know you’re out? You’re the finest looking woman, I have seen without a doubt.” Repeat Refrain Little Red was so flattered, Didn’t know what to say, She smiled at the stranger, Then looked the other way, The driver opened up his door, Red she stepped inside, And Jack the Hood, Took her for a little ride. Repeat Refrain

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R The sights and the sounds, O They were really quite a wonder, S The music on the stereo, S Played in her ears like thunder, R O Jack handed her a bottle, A She took a little drink, D It tasted really bitter, S

And made it hard to think. Repeat Refrain

Jack drove down a side road, And turned off his lights, He was thinking he would taste, That young lady’s delights, He put his lips to her neck, And took a little bite, She pushed him away, And put up a fight. Repeat Refrain “Now little girl you’re something, So fine I do declare, Why don’t we take off that dress, Let down that flaming hair? I promise that I love you, No need to feel alarmed.” She was thinking he was kinda cute, Could he do her any harm? Repeat Refrain

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THE STORIES His eyes they were so big, And his ears were pointed too, And now that he was close to her, There’s something she should do, But she couldn’t quite remember, What it might be, Then he put his arms around her, And she knew that she should flee. Repeat Refrain “Why do you have such big eyes?” “To see you with my dear.” “Why do you have such big ears?” “It’s easier to hear.” “Those teeth they are so sharpened, What are they for?” “Oh these are to eat you.” And she opened up the door. Repeat Refrain She screamed and she hollered, And made such a fuss, She scratched and she kicked, And her pretty dress got mussed, But she got away from Jack, Her own safe home to find, Right into Mother’s loving arms, She never looked behind. Repeat Refrain

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R Now that she was safe at home, O Her mother held her tight, S And said “My darling daughter, S I’m so glad you did what’s right.” R She walked her daughter to her room O A And tucked her into bed, D “From now on you’re not Little, S I’ll call you Ms. Red.”

Repeat Refrain Now Ms. Red is older, And has seen a thing or two, She hopes that her lesson, Will be listened to by you, It’s a world of grand adventure, Waiting all around, Just use a little common sense, Keep your feet firm on the ground. Refrain: And her mother said, “Oh no, you really shouldn’t go. Oh no, you really oughta know, Wolf will get you if you don’t watch out. Wolf will get you. There isn’t any doubt. Oh no. Isn’t any doubt, oh no. Isn’t any doubt, oh no.” Spoken: As for Jack, after Red told all her friends about him, he couldn’t get any girls to ride in his fancy car. So, he traded it to a guy for a bag of magic beans. His mother was so angry. She threw that bag into the family’s compost pile.

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THE STORIES Now, it might have been the compost—I don’t know—but something grew by the next day. Let’s just say Jack had a wild adventure that changed his life. But that’s another story. Refrain: And her mother said, “Oh no, you really shouldn’t go. Oh no, you really oughta know, Wolf will get you if you don’t watch out. Wolf will get you. There isn’t any doubt. Oh no. Isn’t any doubt, oh no. Isn’t any doubt, oh no. Isn’t any doubt. Oh, no.” (Howl)

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Vassalisa A Russian Folktale Activity on page 132

This is a Cinderella story from Russia. A young girl is tormented by her stepmother and stepsisters who plot to get rid of her. They send her to Baba Yaga, a Russian wisdom icon, to get fire. Baba Yaga tests Vassalisa’s conviction through a series of trials. Finally, Vassalisa returns home with a skull whose eyes are made of burning coals. She defeats her stepmother and stepsisters and goes on to fulfill her life’s journey.

k When Vassalisa was a young child, her mother died. On her deathbed, she gave her daughter a little doll, just big enough to fit in Vassalisa’s pocket. “Feed this doll and keep her always with you. She will care for you as I have cared for you.” Vassalisa always kept that little doll in her pocket. She lived with her father for many years until one day he came home with a new wife. His new wife had two daughters. They treated Vassalisa very poorly, and worse after her father died. Vassalisa waited on them day and night, yet for all her hard work, the girl only grew more beautiful and more kind while her stepmother and stepsisters grew more jealous. Then one day, the stepmother said, “How will I ever find good husbands for my own dear daughters with her around? We will have to get rid of Vassalisa.” As night fell, the stepmother sent Vassalisa to fetch water from the stream. While she was gone, they plotted against her. They put out all the fire in the house. They put out the cook fire and the lamps. When Vassalisa returned, the house was dark.

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THE STORIES “What has happened to the fire?” she asked. “It’s gone out,” said her stepmother. “Now you will have to get new fire from Baba Yaga.” Baba Yaga. Some people say she is a witch! She eats people. Her nose curls down to touch her chin. Her hair is matted and dry. And, Baba Yaga flies through the air in a mortar and pestle, sweeping her path with a broom made of human hair. “I am too old and my daughters are too afraid,” said the stepmother. “You will go.” “I will,” said Vassalisa. The next morning, before the sun rose, Vassalisa set off with the doll in her pocket. The forest was dark even by day, and without the faint light of the sun, Vassalisa could not see. Anytime she came to a place where the path made a turn or she could not decide which way to go, the doll in her pocket spoke. “Go left. Go right. Go this way or that.” As she walked there came a crashing through the trees. A white horse with a white rider on its back crossed her path. It was followed by the Dawn and birdsong. Still Vassalisa walked on. A rider on a red horse came through the forest. He was followed by the hot mid day sun, and still Vassalisa walked on. The little doll continued to guide her. Finally a black horse and rider crashed through the trees. It was followed by the darkest night, so dark that Vassalisa could not see her hand in front of her face. The doll guided her on. Ahead, Vassalisa could see small specks of light glowing. She followed the lights to a clearing. What she saw sent shivers up her back. There was a fence made of human bones, and on each fencepost sat a skull with small glowing embers in each hollow eye socket Those were the lights she had seen. Beyond the fence was Baba Yaga’s hut. The house stood on one chicken leg, jumping up and down and turning in circles. All at once a mortar and pestle landed before Vassalisa. It was Baba Yaga. “What do you want?” “ I am Vassalisa . . .”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “I know who you are. I said, what do you want?” O “Fire. I want fire for my stepmother and stepsisters.” S “Fire, for your stepmother and stepsisters? I will not give you fire. You will S earn it.” R O Baba Yaga took Vassalisa by the arm and led her through the fence of A human bones. She spoke some words Vassalisa could not understand and D the house knelt down on its chicken leg. Once Vassalisa and Baba Yaga had S

entered, the house hopped back up and began to hop and turn around again. Baba Yaga sat at the table. “Girl, go to the oven and fetch my supper.” Vassalisa did as she was told. She took the food from the oven and fed it to Baba Yaga. There was enough food to feed ten people, but Baba Yaga devoured every morsel. All but one crumb which she gave to Vassalisa, and she gave that to her doll. “ Now girl, you will clean my house, wash my clothes, rake my yard, and cook my food. And, you see that pile of wheat? You will separate what is good from what is not good. If you do not, you will get no fire and I will eat you.” Then Baba Yaga went to bed. Vassalisa could hear her snoring. Vassalisa sat alone in the corner and wept. “It is too hard. It is too much. I will never finish all that work.” The doll in her pocket spoke “Vassalisa, tomorrow is another day. I will help you.” In the morning, Baba Yaga left in her cauldron. Vassalisa worked at her chores while the little doll separated the wheat that was good from the wheat that was not. When Baba Yaga returned home that night, the work was finished. “You have done well, girl.” Baba Yaga called for her servants and two hands appeared from nowhere. They ground her wheat and baked her bread. “Tomorrow, you will clean my house, wash my clothes, rake my yard, and cook my food. And, you will separate the poppy seeds from that pile of dirt.” She pointed out the window. “If not, you will have no fire.” Again Baba Yaga went to bed Vassalisa cried, “How will it ever be done? It is too much.”

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THE STORIES Her doll said, “Tomorrow is another day Vassalisa. I will help you.” The next day, after Baba Yaga left, Vassalisa set about the work while the little doll separated the dirt from the poppy seeds. She made two piles, one of poppy seeds and one of dirt. Baba Yaga returned home. “You have done well.” She called for her servants. The hands appeared in midair and squeezed the poppy seeds to make oil. “Now,” said Baba Yaga. “I will give you fire. But first,” Baba Yaga looked deep into Vassalisa’s eyes. “You look like a curious girl. There must be something you want to know, but I warn you, there will be answers you will not like. It is not wise to know too much, too soon. It will make you old before your time.” “Well,” said Vassalisa. “I am curious about the rider on the white horse. Who was he?” “That is my dawn.” “And the rider on the red horse. Who was he?” “He is my noon.” “And the Rider on the black?” “Ah,” said Baba Yaga. “He is my night. Is there anything else you’d like to ask?” Vassalisa was about to ask of the hands that appeared in midair. The doll in her pocket jumped up and down, warning her to say no more. “No, there’s nothing more.” “Then you will have your fire,” said Baba Yaga. She took a stick and placed a skull with burning coals still in its eyes on the stick. “Here, take it and do not look back.” Vassalisa was about to thank her, but again the doll warned her. She walked toward home and did not look back. Vassalisa walked by the light of the fire in the skull. Once she thought to throw it away. “What use is this skull on the stick?” she thought. The skull said, “I am for your stepmother and your stepsisters. Do not throw me away.” It was dark when Vassalisa returned home. Her stepmother and stepsisters thought Baba Yaga had eaten her. They were just sitting to supper when the

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R stepmother saw a skull with burning eyes come through the forest. One girl O screamed. The other fainted. S “Foolish Girls, get up. It is Vassalisa. She has returned. Now we will have S to find another way to rid ourselves of her.” R O Vassalisa entered the house. “I have brought your fire.” She went to the A hearth and began building a fire. D While she worked, the skull stared at the stepmother. It glared at the stepS

sisters. When the fire glowed brightly, everyone went to bed. When morning came, Vassalisa was alone. The only thing left of her stepmother and her stepsisters were three ash piles on the floor and a skull at their center. “Sweep the ashes and bury the skull Vassalisa” said the doll. Vassalisa swept the ashes out the door and buried the skull in the garden near the house. From that grew a vine of bright red roses.

There are several versions of this tale from Russia. Some have Vassalisa meeting a man and getting married. The story included here has been changed and has a definitive ending. It is a Cinderella variant. The adventure with the prince is a separate story, something akin to a part two. Breaking the story into smaller parts makes it easier to learn. It will be more powerful with precise beginnings and endings. Vassalisa is also filled with useful metaphors.

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The Weeping Lass A Scottish Folktale Activity on page 133

This is an adaptation of the Scottish story, “The Weeping Lass at the Dancin’ Place” (Twelve Black Cats by Sorche NicLeods.) When visiting one of our Buffalo, New York youth facilities, storyteller Elizabeth Ellis told this tale. The teens were experiencing grief and this was the perfect story for them to hear. Each situation and group of youth will require different decisions as to whether they should discuss the loss of loved ones before or after the story. Setting the scene with a statement may be best. “We have all lost someone about whom we care.” Tell the story, give the listeners a triangle of plaid cloth and allow them to share the stories of people they have lost. In this way, they remain focused on the story and hear the message before they have a chance to think of a sad thought. The statement also prepares the listeners for what they will hear. In other words, they will not be expecting a funny tale.

k There is a place where the young folk go to dance and laugh, but even though Mary went there, she was not happy. While the others played at the games of love, Mary sat alone beneath an overhanging bush and wept. Every night it was the same. Then one night, when the young people were well into their fun, a tall handsome stranger came. All the lasses danced with him, but Mary never noticed he was there. She didn’t notice when the dancing stopped and one by one in pairs and alone, the young people went home, and the stranger stood before her.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Why does such a young and pretty lass sit alone and weep?” O “I weep for my love Jaime who’s gone off to sea and drowned.” S “Well I knew your love Mary, it was months ago he left and it is time to S get on with living. Come dance with me.” R O “I’ll dance with none other than my Jaime and he is gone.” A The stranger took her hand and pulled her to her feet before Mary could D say another word. He turned her in great circles. Little by little Mary looked S

up until she looked into his face. She knew those eyes, that nose, the mouth she had kissed a hundred times. It was her true love. Mary was overcome with joy and the two danced into the wee hours to music only they could hear. As morning drew near, Jaime said “I must be gone before daylight Mary.” He whistled for his horse. A steed black as midnight came to the call. “Oh no,” said Mary. “Now that I’ve found you, I’ll never let you go.” “Mary, the house is cold and dark and small. You cannot come with me.” “But I will,” she replied. He had no choice and put her on the horse behind him. Jaime kicked the horse’s side and off they flew across the landscape—or it seemed to Mary that the horse’s hooves left the ground. Faster and faster they went until the world was a blur around them and Mary grew cold. She leaned closer to Jaime for warmth, but he was cold and wet, though it was not raining. As quickly as they had begun, the horse came to a halt inside the village cemetery. Mary knew the place for it was here she had erected a stone in memory of her Jaime. He slid from the horse and gave her a hand to help her down. His hand was cold and pale and when Mary looked into his face she saw the once vibrant rosy cheeks were grey and sunken. Jaime pulled Mary to him and she struggled to free herself. “Let go whoever you are!” “I am your love,” he said “And now that I’ve found you I’ll never let you go! No longer will you keep me awake with your weeping. No longer will you wet me with your tears.” Mary pulled and pushed and finally freed herself. The plaid shawl wrapped about her shoulders came loose in the deadman’s hands. Mary ran for the gate

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THE STORIES and he chased her. She could feel him on her heels, but never looked back. Just as Mary crossed the threshold, the sun rose over the trees and she fainted. When Mary woke, she found herself in a safe warm bed with a fire burning in the kitchen beyond her door. An old couple had found her on the road and now heard her stir. “You’re awake at last,” said the old woman. “Tis good to see the color in your cheeks.” They explained to Mary how and where they had found her, and she told them her story. “Tsk,” said the old woman. “We dream such strange things at times.” “Twas no dream,” said Mary. “Go to the cemetery and find my shawl, then you’ll see.” It was plain to see there was no arguing with her, so the man took two of his friends to search in the cemetery. They found a scrap of plaid near a headstone. The stone read “Jaime, Beloved of Mary, Lost at Sea.” They tried to pick up the cloth, but it was buried in the earth. They sent for the priest and the old man sent one of his friends to the shed to fetch a shovel. “We’ll dig it up.” And dug they did. They dug and dug until they came to the roots of an old tree that grew nearby. “Look, it’s tangled in the roots,” one man said. “And more,” said another. “It’s tangled in the fingers of a corpse!” The priest helped give young Jaime a proper burial then they returned the shawl to its owner. Mary pressed it to her face. She breathed in the scent upon it. It smelled like the earth. It smelled like the grave. Mary wrapped the shawl about her shoulders and went home, never to weep for her Jaime again.

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The Magic Tapestry Based on the Chinese Fairy Tale “The Magic Brocade” Activity on page 133

An old widow lives with her three sons. She weaves tapestries and one day the North Wind takes her tapestry. Her sons journey one at a time to bring it home but the first two sons are tempted by their fears and do not complete the journey. The third and youngest son is successful and with the help from a witch he saves the tapestry, his mother, and marries a beautiful fairy. The older brothers are punished eternally for their lack of courage and conviction. .

k Once there was a widow who had three sons. This widow wove beautiful tapestries and took them to the market to sell. One day she was searching for a place to sell her weaving when she passed by an artist who was new in the village. His paintings hung on the wall behind his stall. There was one that caught her eye above the rest. It was a painting of a great golden palace surrounded by rolling green hills and gardens where there were birds and butterflies, and a fishpond with goldfish. The old woman fell in love with this painting. Instead of selling her tapestries to buy rice to feed her sons, she traded them for the painting. Three times on the way home she stopped to look at it. When the widow returned home and told her sons what she had done, her oldest and middle sons were angry. “Now how will we buy rice? Now we will have to chop wood to buy the rice.” But her youngest son said “Mother, you have worked hard all your days for us. It is right for you to do something for yourself. I will chop the wood.” “Oh how I would love to live in such a beautiful place,” his mother said.

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THE STORIES “Perhaps you could weave a tapestry of this painting. It will be as if you are living there.” The old woman liked this idea. She set up her loom and began to weave; in and out, back and forth, day by day. One year passed and the old woman’s eyes were tired. A tear ran down her cheek and fell on the cloth. Each place a tear fell something blue would appear. The sky turned bright blue. The pond filled with water and there were bluebells growing in the garden. Still, she continued her work; in and out, back and forth, day by day. One year turned to two and still her work was not finished. The old woman’s hands bled and her eyes were tired. A drop of blood ran down her cheek and fell on the tapestry. The sun turned bright red, the fish in the pond were red, and roses grew in the garden. Still she continued her work; in and out, back and forth, day by day. Now, at the end of the third year, the work was complete. Even her oldest and middle son had to admit it was the best work their mother had done. “Come Mother, let us place the tapestry on the table to see it better.” They removed the tapestry from the loom and laid it out on a table. When they did, the North Wind came into the room. It looked about the room until it found the tapestry, then the North Wind whisked it out the window. The old woman and her sons chased the North Wind down the road, watching the tapestry sail out of sight. The old woman fell to her knees. “My tapestry! Oh three long years of my life and now I will never see it again.” Her sons helped her into the house. They helped her to bed. The old woman could barely move. As the days passed she became ill, then weak. Finally her breath was shallow and she did not open her eyes. Her oldest son knelt beside her. “Oh mother, I will follow the North Wind and return your tapestry.” Then he put on his sandals and took something to eat. He walked down the long twisted road until he came to the base of a great stone mountain. The oldest son climbed the mountain and there he found a stone house and a stone horse with its head bent as if to eat the berries at its feet.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R From the house came an old witch. “Why are you here?” O “I follow the North Wind to return my mother’s tapestry.” S “Do you? Do you? The fairies have taken your mother’s tapestry to the S mountain of the sun. It is a treacherous journey. Do you know what you must R O do? You must knock out your front tooth and place it in my horse’s mouth. A When the horse has eaten the tenth berry at its feet, climb upon his back and D he will take you to the mountain of the sun. First you will cross the mountain S

of flame. The flames will singe your hair and burn your flesh. Then you will cross the mountain of ice and it will freeze your flesh. Finally, you will arrive at the mountain of the sun.” When he heard this, the oldest son turned pale. His knees shook. The old witch went into her house and returned with a chest of treasure. “Take this for your trouble and be gone,” she said. He took that treasure and went to the city to spend it. He did not return home. Meanwhile his poor old mother grew weaker and weaker still. Now the middle son knelt before his mother. “Let me go and return your tapestry and my brother.” So he followed in his brother’s footsteps to the mountain. When the old with told him what he had to do, he too grew afraid. He too took the treasure to the city and never returned home. Now the poor old widow stood at death’s door. Her youngest son knelt beside her. “Dearest Mother, let me go find your tapestry and bring my brothers home.” Her voice was no more than a whisper as she answered, “No, I cannot let you go. You are my most beloved son and I will not send you to your death.” He sat beside her until his mother slept. Then the young man put on his sandals, took something to eat, and set off down the road. He climbed the stone mountain and at the top, he found the stone house and the stone horse, bent as if to eat the berries at its feet. The witch came from the house. “Why have you come?” “I have come to return my mother’s tapestry and my brothers.”

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THE STORIES “The fairies have taken your mother’s tapestry to the mountain of the sun. It is a long and treacherous journey. Do you know what you must do to get there? You must knock out your front tooth and put it in my horse’s mouth. When he has eaten the tenth berry, climb upon his back and he will take you there. First you will cross the mountains of flame and they will burn your hair and singe your flesh. Then you will cross the mountains of ice and you will freeze.” The young man was not afraid. Seeing this, the old woman gave him advice. “Do not cry out in pain. Stay focused on your purpose.” He picked up a stone and knocked out his front tooth, placing it in the horse’s mouth. The horse came to life and ate the berries at its feet. When it had eaten the tenth, the young man climbed upon its back. The horse leapt into the air. Higher and higher they went until the sky turned pink and warm, red and hot. The young man saw the flames licking at his feet. They were crossing the mountain of flame which burnt his flesh and singed his hair, but he did not cry out in pain. His thoughts were of his mother. Now the sky turned steel grey and cool. Ice cycles formed on the horse’s mane and in the young man’s hair. His fingers turned blue then white. Still, he did not cry out. He thought only of his mother. Finally, the horse landed on the tallest mountain of all; the mountain of the sun. On the mountain there stood a palace of silver. At the gate were rows and rows of beautiful fairies dressed in every color of the rainbow. They took him to a room with floors of marble and walls of gold. In the center of the ceiling hung an enormous pearl that gave light to the room. Down each side of the room were rows of looms where fairies sat weaving. Now he saw why they had taken his mother’s work. It sat on a frame in the center of the room. The fairies had taken it to copy. “Come young man, eat and drink. We will return your mother’s tapestry in the morning.” The young man did not know that to eat or drink or fall asleep in fairyland could be dangerous. In our world, a day in fairy could be a hundred years. So, he ate their food, drank their drink, and fell asleep. Days and weeks

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R passed. One by one the fairies fell asleep at their looms. There was one fairy O more beautiful than the rest, the red fairy. She saw her sisters fall asleep and S she feared she would join them and never see the young man again. Thus, she S wove herself in and out, back and forth through the threads until she sat by R O the fishpond. She blew her breath and the young man awoke. A He saw the fairies asleep at their work and knew he would not get his D mother’s tapestry unless he took it. He removed it from the frame, placed it S

under his arm, and ran from the palace. The stone horse still waited for his return. He climbed on its back and they flew to the stone mountain. The witch came from her stone house. “You have been gone a long time. Your mother is near death and will not live another day. You must hurry.” She gave the young man a pair of boots. “These will take you home.” Before he left, the witch reached inside the horse’s mouth, down into his stomach, and removed the young man’s tooth. She put it back where it belonged. It grew in place. The young man put on the boots, and as fast as you like, stood before his mother’s house. He hurried to his mother’s side and covered her with the tapestry. “Old mother?” The widow reached up. She touched her son’s cheek with one hand and the tapestry with the other. “My son, you have returned.” She smiled as the color returned to her cheeks. “Take me into the sun that I might see your face and my palace.” He helped his mother to the yard and they spread the tapestry to look at it. When they did, it grew and grew and grew, covering the house. It covered the fields. It covered the entire countryside and the village. There was the beautiful golden palace surrounded by rolling hills and flower gardens. There were birds and butterflies and the fishpond. Sitting by the pond was something new, something that his mother had not woven. The young man fell in love with the red fairy at once and they were married. There was so much room in the place that they invited everyone for miles around to come and live there.

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THE STORIES On the day of the wedding, while the young man sat in the garden with his new wife and his mother by his side, two beggars dressed in rags came to the gate. They were the brothers. They begged to enter that beautiful place, but they were turned away for they had squandered their treasures. The young man, his wife, and his mother had many treasures yet to come.

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The Empty Cage written by

Lorna MacDonald Czarnota Activity on page 133

In all the discussions of at-risk youth and story for healing, we should not lose sight of our compassion for the mother who has lost her child to the wilderness, and she should show kindness to herself as well. The following story was written for my friend whose daughter ran away, leaving two more teens with problems of their own still living at home. All three children were adopted brothers and sisters, and their new parents always had, and still have, great hopes for them.

k One day a young woman walked through the woods to fetch berries. She had a small basket over her arm that swung merrily to and fro. As the woman neared a woodland pond, she heard the unmistakable chirping of young birds nearby. Sure enough, three tiny, downy soft baby birds came toddling out of the bushes and gathered around her feet. “Where is your mother?” asked the woman softly. She looked here and there in the underbrush. She found an abandoned nest and the young birds continued to chirp loudly. “You’re hungry little ones,” she said as she took plump berries from the basket to feed them. They eagerly devoured them. Gently, the young woman tucked each birdling into the pockets of her apron and carried them home. “They have no one,” she told her husband. “Can’t we care for them?” The couple had no children and the husband was enamored of the young birds too. “Yes,” he replied smiling. “We can keep them. Tomorrow I will make a beautiful cage that they will be safe and comfortable.”

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THE STORIES The next morning dawned crisp and bright. Before the woman rose from sleep, her husband busied himself in his work shed. All morning she heard pounding, sanding, and scraping until at last he emerged holding a lovely cage. It was delicate, but sturdy and carved with intricate designs of the forest. “Oh, how wonderful!” his wife exclaimed as she hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “What a fine place to live.” She searched the warm place behind the kitchen stove and found the little chicks cuddled together. “Come my precious ones and see your new home.” The birds were placed in the cage and the door was closed carefully behind them. They looked splendid, happy, and safe. Every day the young couple admired their charges. They spoke to them, fed them, and kept them clean and warm. Every day the young chicks grew. Finally, they were no longer babies. They had grown into beautiful adolescents. Their soft down was replaced with larger feathers in many colors. The young birds loved their home and the couple, but as the days went by they longed for the life they saw beyond the cage walls. They could see the sunshine and the forest through the window. They could smell the fresh breezes of a new spring. The oldest of the three longed so much that her heart was breaking. One night, she made good her escape. The next morning was frantic. “Husband! Husband,” cried the woman. “One of our children is missing!” Running into the room, the man saw it was so. His wife broke into tears and he wiped a few away himself. “What are we to do, Husband?” “Take joy in the two who are left to us, Wife. Perhaps the other will return.” The man made certain the cage door would not open again. He wrapped it with wire, tighter than before, but it was not to keep the second or third young one from leaving. They were determined to find a way, and one morning the cage lay completely empty. The couple was sad. The woman’s heart longed for their soft chirping and the touch of their soft wings, but mostly her heart yearned to have someone for whom to care. With a great heaviness in her heart, the young mother

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R walked through the wood, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. They were O nowhere to be seen. Yet, she never gave up hope. Years passed and daily she S walked through the forest, cage in hand. Until one day, she heard them. In S the trees above her head, she heard them singing near the pond. R O “Oh Our Mother, how we love you. Oh Our Father, how we love you. A Thank you for our lives and love. Thank you for all you have done. You were D always near. We are always here.” S

The woman sat hard upon the ground. She was surprised and amazed by their words. She stood and held up the cage. She swung it once, twice, three times over her head and threw it into the pond. Now every day an old woman walks through the woods and listens. Sometimes the wood is silent, but sometimes she hears birds singing. “We are always here.” And she knows her children are safe and happy. What more can a mother ask?

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The Selkie A Scottish Folktale Activity on page 134

This is a story about captivity. A Selkie woman is captured and forced to live among humans when a fisherman steals and hides her skin. She comes to love him and has his children but is always ostracized from the community. She is lost and lonely in this world of humans and eventually finds her skin and returns home. Her life, her children’s lives, and the fisherman’s life are changed forever.

k In a place of gray water so cold, so cold, that only the whales and fishes swim there, there lived the Selkie. One day a fisherman rowed his boat to the mouth of a great cave. He cast his net and waited in the pleasant sunshine. After a time he thought he heard the sound of laughter from inside the cave. He rowed to the rocks and coming to shore, crept quietly to have a look. Inside the cave, the fisherman saw beautiful naked men and women frolicking in the sea. At the cave mouth was a pile of sleek black pelts, the Selkie’s skin. He had heard the stories, but never believed them until now. He hid one skin in the bottom of his boat and waited hidden among the rocks until the end of day. As the sun went down, one by one the beautiful men and women came from the cave, took up a skin, clothed themselves, and slid into the sea. The last was a woman more beautiful than the rest. She searched and searched, but could not find her skin. It was the one the fisherman had taken. She called for it. “Silky my skin, I still remember you. Silky my skin, I cannot but think of you. Come to me. Come to me. Silky my skin.”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R When the skin did not find her, the woman cried. From pity or curiosity, O the man came from hiding and wrapped his coat about her naked shoulders. S He helped her into his boat and took her home. S They were married and on the night of their wedding the man waited for R O his wife to come to bed. She sat at the foot of the bed brushing her long black A hair that hung to her waist. D She sang, “Silky my skin, I still remember you. Silky my skin, I cannot S

but think of you. And if I ever find you, I’ll hide inside you. Silky my skin, where has he hidden you?” She turned to her husband. Her eyes were large and filled with tears. “Ah Husband, you don’t know what you’ve done. You’ve taken me from my home and nine children of the sea. You don’t know what you’ve done. Can you have no pity for me?” He did not reply, and although she gave him nine children of the land and they lived peacefully, she was never quite so happy as the day he had seen her in the cave. The women of the village found her strange and distant. She had no friends and kept mostly to herself. “She’s not like us,” the women whispered as she passed. “She spends her days alone and her nights singing to the moon along the shore.” What they did not know was that she did not sing to the moon. She longed for her silky skin and her life in the sea. One night as she brushed her hair and sang, her husband dreamed deep dreams. “Silky my skin, I still remember you. Silky my skin, I cannot but think of you. And if I ever find you, I’ll hide inside you. Silky my skin, where has he hidden you?” This time, the man answered in his sleep. “In the barn. Third rafter from the left, there is a bundle of skin as soft as silk and black as midnight.” She rose quietly and placed the silver hairbrush on the stand. She softly kissed her sleeping husband’s forehead. The Selkie woman climbed to the

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THE STORIES loft of their tiny house and without waking them, kissed nine children of the land. She walked to the barn. Three bales of hay she piled under the third rafter on the left. There as her husband had promised, the Selkie woman found the bundle. She walked to the sea and removed her nightgown of linen. She dressed herself in skin as soft as silk and black as midnight and slid into the sea. She looked back once, she looked back twice, she never looked back more. Nine children of the sea have found their mother, one man is lost and lonely, one woman torn between two worlds. For they say, on a night when the moon is full, a Selkie sits upon the rocks and watches as nine children of the land walk the shore and sing to the moon. “I still remember you.”

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Mr. Fox An English story based on a Russian Folktale Activity on page 134

Mr. Fox is a version of the Russian folktale “Bluebeard.” This is the origin of the expression, “He is a Bluebeard.” It refers to a man who takes advantage of women. Mr. Fox is not an easy story to tell nor is it easy listening. Many at-risk young women have had negative experiences with men. Although it is a difficult story, girls can relate to it. Its message, “What we see is not always what we get,” is true in relationships as well as in many other life events. Sometimes, disappointment is a result of poor choice. The ending for this story is borrowed from storyteller Dan Keding. The story traditionally ends with the brothers tearing Mr. Fox apart. This made them too much like Mr. Fox. However, Mr. Fox must be destroyed. By showing Mary’s brothers helping her, we see her family support. Dan Keding’s solution to this tale solves both problems. He rids the world of the evil character while maintaining the humanity of Mary’s brothers.

k Mary lived with seven brothers. She was a fine looking young lady, though she was particular as to whom she would marry, much to her brothers’ disappointment. There were many eligible men in her village and she had many suitors, but Mary always managed to find something wrong with them. They were too fat, too thin, too homely, too poor, too old, too young, too tall, or too short. Then there was Mr. Fox. Nobody really knew where Mr. Fox came from and Mary didn’t care. She thought he was perfect in every way. Mr. Fox was handsome, tall, wealthy, and he carried himself with confidence. What’s more, Mr. Fox was interested in Mary.

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THE STORIES One day he came calling. Every day after that Mr. Fox brought her flowers and other trinkets of his affection. Eventually, he asked Mary to be his bride. Mary, of course, said yes. As Mr. Fox’s wife she would have money, position, and a great estate. Although she had never seen it, Mr. Fox had told her all about it. The house had twenty rooms. It sat on lush green acres and wooded lands just beyond the borders of the barony where Mary lived. Mr. Fox painted pretty pictures in Mary’s imagination of how they would entertain great families and host grand parties. Mary could not wait until their wedding day when Mr. Fox would carry her over the threshold and she would become Lady Fox. “Mary, my dear,” Mr. Fox said when he came to visit one day. “I must go away on business for some time. Will you wait for me? When I return, we will marry.” Of course, Mary would wait. She had been waiting all her life for such an opportunity. The only thing for which she could not wait was to see her new home, so two days after Mr. Fox left, without her brothers’ knowledge, Mary walked through the forest until she came to his estate. The sight of Mr. Fox’s house took her breath away. It was massive and as beautiful as Mr. Fox himself. Mary walked to the door. Certain that no one was around, she opened the huge double doors and entered. The entrance hall reached all the way up the three stories of the house. Overhead, there was a crystal chandelier that was reflected in the smooth marble floor beneath her feet. Before her was a staircase to the rooms above, but first Mary explored the parlor and dining hall. They were furnished in the finest of fashion. The dining table could seat up to twenty people at once. Mary ran her hand along exotic imported woodwork and soft velvet wall hangings. She stood for a long time in the ballroom and imagined how it would be when her husband held her in his arms as they glided across the dance floor. “Soon,” she thought. “My dream will become a reality.” Mary climbed the staircase to the second and third floors of what would soon be her house. Mr. Fox had not exaggerated in his description of it. Soon Mary came to the master suite and entered.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R There was a bed of ebony with carved posts holding up a finely woven O canopy and bed curtains. She tested the mattress and found it was the best S down money could buy. Then Mary happened to glance at a curtain that S covered one corner of the room. She drew it back and saw the strangest sight. R O There behind the curtain was a door and over the door was a carving that A read, “Be bold. Be bold.” D Mary thought, “I am bold.” S

She opened the door and entered a smaller room with another door. Over this door were carved words “Be bold, Be bold, but not too bold.” Mary also opened this door. Beyond was a second small room and door over which was written, “Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, lest your heart’s blood run cold.” Mary shivered at these strange words, but she thought, “I am bold. This is my home, so I will open this door.” It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. When they did, Mary was horrified by what she saw. There were three vats and each was full. One held human hair, long and once beautiful. One held human bones, white and smooth. The third held dark red blood. Mary felt rage and fear rise within her. She turned and ran back through the doors to the master suite. Back to the hall and down the stairs. Back toward the door, just as it was thrown open —Mr. Fox was home! Mary only had an instant to hide in an alcove beneath the stairs. Her eyes widened as she saw Mr. Fox enter, red in the face and scowling as he dragged a woman in a wedding gown behind him. The woman cried and struggled against his grasp. When Mr. Fox tried to drag her up the staircase, the woman held the rail until her knuckles turned white. Cold in his resolve, Mr. Fox drew the sword that hung at his side and cut off the woman’s hand. The hand flew over the railing, landing in Mary’s own lap. Mary stifled a scream. She watched in terror as Mr. Fox, his bride in tow disappeared through the door to the master suite above. Mary raced from the house and did not stop until she arrived home. No more than a day passed before there was a rap upon Mary’s door. It was Sunday and Mr. Fox was there as he had been every Sunday to visit Mary.

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THE STORIES Stoically she ushered him in and invited him to sit for supper with herself and her brothers. Mr. Fox smiled his usual sweet smile and reached for Mary’s hand. She withdrew it coldly. “Perhaps sir, we should wait for our wedding day,” she said, as she opened the door to the dining hall. Her brothers sat around the table, dressed in their Sunday best. They did not rise when their guest entered, but one rose for his sister and held her chair until she sat. Mr. Fox was seated at the head of the table, as was fitting his title as guest and fiancé. The meal was simple and silent. After a time, Mary broke the silence. “Mr. Fox, I had a dream.” “I enjoy hearing of dreams,” replied Mr. Fox. “Tell me my dear, what was it?” He placed his hand over hers, but she slid it away. “I saw a fine house with many rooms and a master suite with a curtain covering a door.” She had his full attention and Mr. Fox leaned into her conversation. “Go on, my dear.” “It was a strange door, Mr. Fox. Over it were carved the words, Be Bold.” A sly smile crossed his lips and Mr. Fox said “It was not so.” “I opened that door, Mr. Fox. Behind it was another with the words “Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.” “It was not so. It is not so,” said Mr. Fox. “Then I entered that door and do you know, Mr. Fox, I found another door that read: Be bold, be bold, but not too bold, lest your heart’s blood runs cold. Behind that Mr. Fox, there were three vats of hair, of bone, of blood.” “It was not so and is not so,” said Mr. Fox again. “It was but a bad dream.” Mary’s voice rose and the tension could be felt in the room. “Oh, but Mr. Fox, I saw you come to that house with a woman behind you. You dragged that woman to the stairs. Then cutting off her hand, you dragged her to her doom!” Mr. Fox’s fingers dug into the edge of the dining table. “It was not so. It is not so. God forbid it should be so.”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R Mary’s voice was calculated and cold. “Mr. Fox, it was so and it is so, and O I have the hand to prove it.” S From her apron, Mary took a wrapped cloth and opened it on the table S before a white-faced Mr. Fox. R O He leapt to his feet, hand to his dagger, but before he could draw it, A Mary’s seven brothers sprang upon him. They dragged Mr. Fox to the yard D and tied him to four horses. Mary’s brothers sent Mr. Fox to the four corners S

of the earth and he was never seen again.

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Grain of Rice A Folktale from India Activity on page 135

Four princesses are given a grain of rice and an equal opportunity to prove their worthiness to take the thrown when the king retires. Each does what they think is best and their father is proud of them, but the fourth daughter uses her rice to plant fields and feed the people. She is chosen to be the queen.

k Once there was a king who had four daughters. He loved each daughter equally, so when it came time to decide which would inherit his throne, the king had a problem. He would need to devise a test for them. One day, the king announced to his daughters that he would travel the world to seek knowledge. He gave each of his daughters a single grain of rice and instructed them to take care of it in his absence. Then, he departed to travel the world. The first daughter immediately wrapped her rice in a golden thread and placed it on an altar. There she prayed each day for her father’s safe return. The second daughter, realizing the greatness of her father, was concerned that robbers might steal the rice. She hid hers in a plain wooden box under her bed. The third daughter said to herself “My father is a great king and I can have rice anytime I want.” She threw her rice away. The fourth daughter cherished her rice and kept it for a long time, thinking about what to do. Much time passed and one day while the king’s daughters were busy with their embroidery, an old man with a long beard came down the road. When

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R the girls saw him, they knew he was their father. They ran to him with open O arms. S After bathing and eating, the king asked his daughters about their rice. S The first brought hers. “I wrapped it in a golden thread and prayed for R O you each day.” A He kissed her cheek. “I am proud of you, my daughter.” D The second brought her rice forward. “And I hid it from robbers to keep S

it safe, Father.” “You too have done well.” He kissed her cheek. The third had thrown her rice away, but she quickly found another and brought it to her father. “I am proud of you, my daughter.” Now, the fourth daughter looked quite sad. She took her father by the hand and led him to the window where she pulled back the curtain. “Father. I no longer have my rice. I planted it.” As far as his eyes could see, the king viewed fields of rice started with his fourth daughter’s grain of rice. He took her in his arms. “A queen will know what she must do to care for her people, and you shall be queen.”

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The Youth and His Eagle A Zuni Tale Activity on page 135

A strange and mystical journey-story of a boy and his eagle. The boy is irresponsible and his family is angry. He spends all his time with his eagle and they plot to kill it. The boy and the eagle run away together and she reveals herself as not only an eagle, but a beautiful woman. As an eagle, she carries the boy to her home beyond the clouds where they marry. She teaches the boy to fly in an old eagle suit she has found for him. The boy is warned to stay away from the South but his curiosity gets the better of him. Still, irresponsible he visits the South and all of his eagle people must visit the eagles of the South. He is tempted and must stay in the South. He is duped and must run away again but nobody will take him in, except his grandparents. He eventually is allowed to return to his eagle-wife but after a while she remembers his actions and he is punished.

k Once there was a boy who had an eagle that he kept in a cage on the roof of his house. The boy loved this eagle so much that he had no thoughts other than to care for it. He fed it and spoke nice words to the eagle. Unfortunately, the boy did not do his chores, which meant his family, especially his brothers, had to do theirs and his. This made them angry toward the boy and resentful of the eagle. One day, the boy’s brothers plotted. They decided to rid themselves of the problem forever by killing the eagle. “Our brother will forget his pet and do his work only if the eagle is dead,” they said. As he did several times a day, the boy came to visit and feed his eagle. On this day, she was very sad and would not touch her food.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “What is wrong my eagle, have I neglected you in some way?” O “No my boy, I am sad. You have not done your work and your brothers S have decided to kill me so you will forget me. That is why I am sad. My only S choice is to leave you and I cannot.” R “I could not live without you either, my eagle. You must go to save yourO A self, and I will go with you. I cannot remain here when you go.” D “My youth, you cannot go with me to the sky place. You have no wings S and do not know the way.”

Still the boy begged and pleaded with the bird to let him go along. The eagle explained that the end would be tragic. “If you truly love me, you would not ask this. You cannot eat my food for it is not cooked. You would die.” “I don’t care about food,” said the boy. “If I cannot go with you, I will die anyway.” Finally, the eagle had to give in to the youth for he had wished it. She instructed him to pack enough food for a long journey and promised to meet him the next day, after his people had gone to the fields. This he did, and the next morning, as promised, the bird carried the boy upon her back. As they circled higher into the sky, the eagle sang a farewell song to the boy’s people. They looked up as the song rent the air. “A KEE!” They flew throughout the day, higher and higher until they came to rest on a tall mountaintop. The eagle reached its wings up over its head and pulled on its top feathers. It shook its head and drew upon its coat until the coat parted. Much to the youth’s amazement, there dressed in dazzling white, was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. “You who have loved me so well, let us wander my world and search for my people,” she said. She held out her hand and he took it. The two circled as they descended the mountain and walked until they came to a great city of shining white walls and clean air. They were made welcome and taken to a great hall. Here in this place of light and peace, the youth and the maiden were married. After many days, the eagles gave the young man a coat of plumes and taught him to fly just as they would teach a new eaglet to use its wings.

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THE STORIES At first, they placed cushions for him, so the youth could spread his wings and jump. He was eager to learn, but still could not suspend himself. He fell without injury until he could manage to move about the room. He flew higher every day. When he faltered, his wife in eagle dress would fan a wind to keep him safely up. Finally, there came a day when his wife took him to the rooftop and they flew always north or eastward. They were happy. As they flew one day, his wife gave him warning. “Husband, you have seen that we fly ever north and east. You must promise never to fly south or west for those are bad lands and no mortal can go there. If you truly love me, you will promise.” He did love her and promised. Then she told him of the Pelican and Stork people who lived in the east. “They are your grandparents,” she said. “They eat cooked food and if you grow hungry, go to them. They will help you.” Again, he nodded understanding. When he was hungry, he went to his grandparents. They fed him and warned him of the bad country to the south and west. “Promise you will never go there.” He promised and each day the youth returned home to his happy wife. Yet, all these warnings and promises only served to make the young man curious. One evening as he was flying home to the eagle city. His curiosity got the better of him and the young man turned his attention to the south. “I have strong wings and I fly well enough,” he thought. “Why should I not see what adventures lay there?” He flew farther south to a great city. Unlike the eagle city, smoke rose from chimneys and haze surrounded the sky around it. It was dirty, but exciting. The inhabitants saw his approach and sent a message to the eagles that they would hold a dance and festival in his honor. They invited the eagles to attend. When the youth arrived home, his wife met him. “The day is sad, my husband. You have broken your promise. We cannot refuse the invitation and must now go to the south and you must go with us.” The youth did not understand. His wife explained. “You will be tested, my husband. If you love me, you must heed my warning. The south city is a

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R wondrous place, but it is evil. No matter what happens, you must not laugh O or smile. If you do, all is lost. I beg you, do this one thing for me.” S Again the youth promised to heed her words. S The south city was as she had described it, a place of wonder and mysR O tery. Everywhere there were sounds and sights to set the imagination on fire. A Already the guests had begun to assemble in the dancing hall. The youth D removed his feathered coat and sat with the eagles. S

The music began to play and the dancers entered the hall amid a flash of brilliant light and color. Maidens danced and joked with each other. They pointed and sang “Dead, dead, this, this, this.” Through all the dance, the young man sat and watched. He kept his promise not to smile even though they appeared so funny. The maidens were beautiful, but could not compare to the last one to take the dance floor. This maiden shone like a beacon and directed all her glances at the youth. She smiled with her eyes for him alone. He leaned forward and could not take his eyes from her. “Dead, dead, this, this, this,” the dancers sang. He was so taken into the beauty of this girl that he forgot all else and a smile broke across his face. The maiden came forward with two others. They took hold of his hands and pulled the youth into their dance. The youth’s eagle wife raised her wings and cried out in great sorrow as she flew off with her people. He did not see her go nor did he hear her cry, instead he danced and sang to music he did not understand. “Dead, dead, this, this, this.” As the fires dimmed, the music faded. The youth was tired and the maidens said to him “There is no need to go home. Stay here with us and rest.” They led him to a room of soft pillows and covered him with warm blankets. One maiden cradled his head in her arms, another rubbed his feet, and still another looked sweetly into his face as the youth slowly closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. The youth awakened with the morning. The sun shone too brightly for inside a house. This surprised him and he looked up. The roof of the house

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THE STORIES was gone. He saw blue-sky overhead. Looking around, he saw that the pillows and blankets, and other fine things of the house had disappeared. All that remained was dust and rags. The walls were crumbled. Worst of all, there were bones and skulls surrounding him. This sent fear racing through the youth and he leapt to his feet. All the pretty maidens of the night were bleachedbone-dead at his feet and by his side. A half-buried face stared up at him from the sand. He ran as fast as he could from that place, his heart pounding in his chest. Death followed at his heels and the young man felt the darkness closing in about him. “Here,” cried a voice. And the youth saw one of his grandparents—Badger—sitting in a hole in the ground. “Save him,” the other badgers yelled and they stood up gnashing their teeth at the ghosts that followed him. They pulled the young man into their hole. The wails of the dead disappeared back to the City of the Dead where they belonged. The badgers scolded the youth for his foolishness. “But, you are not safe yet,” they warned as they gave him a drink of strong herbs. The young man drank four times before he felt better. “Grandson, you were foolish to fall in love with death no matter how beautiful it seemed. We barely saved you. You will be lucky if the one who loved you will forgive you enough to rescue your spirit which you have given away. Why would anyone dance with and take joy in death?” The badgers told the young man that he had few choices left. He could not go back to earth to his own people. He had no wings to carry him nor could he go to the eagles and live without love. His only hope was to seek his grandparents, the storks. Perhaps, they would take him in. The storks welcomed their grandson with sadness. They pointed at him and said he was foolish. “You have given up the love of your wife and will never get it back.” “I will tell her I am sorry,” said the youth. “How could I have known what I was doing?”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “You were warned. You did not heed our words,” they reminded him. O The youth went to the home of the eagles and stood for days outside their S walls crying and moaning and pleading, but though they flew over him not S one word of greeting or pity did the eagles offer. At last, his wife flew above R O him. A “Go back to your grandparents who still love you. You have broken your D word with us and there is no love here. Go back!” S

He did return to the storks, but came every day to the eagle city. At last, an elder among the eagles went to the youth’s wife and begged her to take him back into her home. “He gave his spirit away. How can you ask me to forgive him?” The eagle elder would not give up. The eagle wife was forced to take her husband home again. She found an old eagle coat with feathers missing. It had dried skin and crumpled wings. “Put this on and use your knowledge to follow me,” she told her husband. His wife led him toward a mountaintop. On and on they flew. When his old wings faltered, she bore him up. Suddenly, she remembered how he had broken trust with her. In that brief moment, she grabbed his coat and pulled it free. The young man plummeted to earth and landed in the middle of the city where he had once loved his eagle “Dead, dead, this, this, this.” From that time, mankind cannot avoid death. Mankind should never fall in love with it.

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Mary Culhane and the Deadman An Irish Folktale Activity on page 136

The youngest of seven grandchildren and a naïve rash young girl, Mary returns to the cemetery to fetch her grandfather’s walking stick. It is there that she meets the Deadman. He captures her and will not release her until she feeds him blood. Against her will but unable to control herself, Mary causes the deaths of three beloved friends. Finally, she carries the Deadman back to his grave thinking she is rid of him, but he tries to pull her into his grave and says she can share his treasure. The sun rises, Mary is free. She revives the three dead friends and returns to the grave for the treasure.

k Mary was the youngest of seven children and her grandfather’s favorite. He took Mary with him each time he went into town. One day, as they were heading home, they passed through the cemetery. Grandfather was tired and needed to rest. He sat on a headstone, leaning his walking stick against it. As he rested, Mary happened to see a fresh grave without a marker. “Grandfather, I wonder who has died.” “To be sure, Granddaughter, I don’t recall.” He glanced at the sky. “It’s getting late. Your mother will soon put supper on the table and we best not be late.” Mary agreed and the two made it home just as the family sat at the table. Grandfather was just spooning some potatoes onto his plate when he realized he had left his walking stick behind.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Ah, I left my stick at the cemetery. Which one of you will go and fetch it O for me?” he asked. S Spoons paused at lips, but nobody volunteered until Mary spoke up. “I’ll S get it for you.” R O Before anyone could say a word, Mary ran out of the house and hopped A over the fence. When she arrived at the cemetery the sun was nearly gone. D She saw her grandfather’s walking stick leaning against the headstone where S

he had left it. Mary reached out to take it and heard a voice from deep within the earth. “Mary. Mary Culhane.” “Who’s that talking to me?” she asked. She turned to leave, not wanting a reply. A boney hand shot up from the new grave and tangled itself in Mary’s skirts. Then a creature of death climbed up Mary’s back and wrapped its arms around her neck. Bits of flesh still clung to bone. The corpse smelled of earthen grave. “Mary,” it whispered in her ear. “I’m hungry, Mary. Take me to the village and get me food.” “Get off! Get off of me,” Mary cried, struggling to free herself. “Oh Mary, you’ll not be rid of me until I’m fed.” Mary wanted to turn toward home, but her will was gone and she walked toward the village. When they arrived at the edge of the town, the deadman sat up on her back. He sniffed the air. “Blood, Mary. Blood is what I want. We search for a house that’s got dirty foot water in it.” Mary knew that most homes threw their water out at night and all the troubles of the day with it. She feared the deadman’s needs. She worried that he would find at least one house he could enter. Mary turned down one street after another. She shuffled up walkways only to have the deadman say “Not that house Mary. They’ve thrown their water across the threshold and I cannot enter in.” They had been to every house and there was only one left. The deadman sniffed, “That one Mary. That is the one.”

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“We can’t go in there,” Mary said. “I know this house and they will know me.” “Mary, dear Mary, do you not know that a spell lays upon us and no one will be the wiser? Go to that house or you will never be rid of me.” Mary did not want to enter, but she did. She turned the knob and carried the deadman down the hall to the kitchen. The corpse slid from her back into a chair. Mary wanted to flee, but she could not. “Oatmeal, Mary. Make me some oatmeal.” The deadman pointed to the cupboards. Mary knew the people of this house for she had worked for them many times. Mary made a bowl of oatmeal and pushed it across the table to the creature. “It’s not ready yet, Mary. It wants blood. You know what you must do.” Against her will, Mary took a knife from the table and climbed the stairs to the second floor bedrooms. Mary went right to the room where the boys of that house lay sleeping, their hair about their pillows like haloes. Mary drew blood from the small finger of each boy. With the first drop they grew pale, with the second they grew cold, and with the third drop they grew still. She mixed the blood into the oatmeal and returned to the kitchen. She threw the bowl before the deadman. “There’s your blood, you foul thing. Now eat it and be done with me.” The deadman motioned to the seat across from him. “Sit yourself down, Mary.” Mary watched in disgust as the creature ate spoonful after spoonful of the bloody oatmeal. When he had devoured half, he slid the bowl to Mary. “Now you eat.” “I can’t eat that! I can’t! I’ll forfeit my very soul.” “Ah Mary, do you not know you are mine already. Eat it or never be rid of me!” Tears ran down Mary’s cheek as she spread a napkin on her lap. The creature watched eagerly as Mary brought the spoon to her lips, but he was distracted a moment. When the deadman looked away, Mary let the oatmeal fall into the napkin on her lap. This she did until the bowl was empty. “There, I’ve finished! Will you not be gone from me?” The deadman smiled and crawled onto her back.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Now take us home, Mary.” O Mary was glad to take him back to the cemetery. She walked to the door, took S three steps outside the house, then stopped and asked “Are they really dead?” S “Yes Mary. Stone cold dead.” R She took three more steps. “Is there nothing that could be done for them?” O A The corpse smirked. “Yes Mary, a wee bit of oatmeal on their lips and D they’d be alive as you. Pity you ate it all.” S Now it was Mary who smiled. She straightened her back a little and car-

ried him the rest of the way to the grave. As the deadman slid into the ground, Mary felt her soul lighten. She turned to leave. At that moment, he reached up and tangled his boney fingers in her skirt. He pulled her toward the grave. “Let go! Let go!” she screamed. “Come Mary. Come into my grave and share my gold!” He pulled and Mary felt herself slipping into the earth and darkness. Just as all hope seemed lost, the sun rose over the horizon. A rooster crowed three times and the deadman turned to dust. Mary never stopped to look back as she ran home. It was still the early hours of morning when Mary arrived. Her family was still in bed and the house quiet as Mary sneaked to her room. She tried to sleep, but she could not. Suddenly, someone pounded on the door of her house. Mary heard her mother’s cry and rose to open her bedroom door. Her mother came toward her with great tears on her face. “Oh Mary, something terrible has happened.” Mary knew before she heard the words. The sons of her family’s dearest friends were dead. Sorrow was in the village. “We must go at once, Mary,” her mother said. Her legs felt heavy as Mary dressed and stuffed the oatmeal filled napkin in her pocket. This was a trip to the village she did not want to take, though she knew she must. As they approached, Mary saw the black wreath hung on the door. So much sadness filled that place and Mary wished her own heart to stop beating. She could barely find the strength to climb the front steps and enter.

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THE STORIES The boys were laid out in the dining room and the parents looked so pale. No one from the village wore a smile that day. Mary wished it were all a dream. “Come Mary,” her mother said. “We will pay our respects.” “But Mother, I must see them alone. I cared for them for so long and wish to say goodbye in private.” Mary’s mother looked at the boys’ parents and they nodded understanding. Mary was left alone with the dead boys. The door was closed behind her. “Oh please be right,” she said to herself. “For if not, then your souls and mine will never meet.” Mary took out the napkin and smeared a bit of bloody oatmeal on the cold lips of each boy. It took a moment. Mary heard a moan and then a gasp as air entered their lungs. Each boy sat up. In a sudden burst of understanding, Mary screamed. The door flew open. Mourners flooded into the room. They stopped in their tracks at the sight before them. Where had been three lifeless corpses, three boys with youthful rose upon their cheeks sat staring at Mary. “I don’t know what you’ve done,” cried the boys’ father. Their mother embraced them. “But whatever it is, it is a miracle. You can have anything. Anything you want, Mary.” Mary saw a shovel leaning by the door just inside the kitchen. “If you don’t mind, I’ll have that shovel.” “If that is all, you may certainly have it.” The father handed her the shovel. Mary left at once and walked to the cemetery. She remembered the creature saying it had gold and she had a mind to dig it up. Perhaps, gold would set all things right. She stuck the end of the shovel into the deadman’s grave and pushed with her foot. An icy chill ran up the handle and into Mary’s arm. It would have wrapped itself around Mary’s heart, but she released the shovel and left it there. Mary never returned to that cemetery at all. She lived out her days in that village a poor old woman, but so much the wiser for it. They say, the deadman’s gold is still there if you should like to find it.

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The Secrets of Heaven and Hell A Zen Fable Activity on page 136

A monk teaches a Samurai warrior how to find peace; the difference between heaven and hell.

k An old monk sat in his teahouse. Slowly and precisely, he followed the ancient tea ceremony. All at once, the rice paper walls ripped apart and a Samurai warrior stood before him. “Old man,” the Samurai demanded. “Teach me the secret of heaven and hell!” The monk ignored the Samurai and continued his ceremony. He ladled the tea into two cups. This angered the Samurai. The old monk heard the sound of steel being drawn from a scabbard. “You will answer or die.” The old man smiled, but said nothing. The Samurai drew his sword fully and held it menacingly above the monk’s bowed head. “That is hell,” said the monk. The Samurai’s sword fell back into the scabbard. An odd sense of peace ran through his body as the old man pointed to the seat across from him. The Samurai sat and followed the monk as he lifted the teacup to his lips. The old monk waited until the Samurai had sipped and his body relaxed. “And that is heaven,” said the monk.

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Monk and the Moon A Zen Fable No Activity

Wisdom can’t be stolen. The monk knows the true value of the simple moments, and what makes a man wealthy. The Robber knows only that which he can touch.

k A monk lived on top of a great mountain. His only possessions were his small rice-paper hut and the robes on his back. He had taken a vow of poverty. One night as the monk sat gazing at the moon, he saw a shadow climb the side of the mountain. It was a robber who sneaked up behind him. “Give me everything you have old man.” The monk continued to sit and watch the moon, but said softly, “All I have is the hut and the clothes on my back.” “Hah. You are a fool,” said the robber, who tore the monk’s hut apart in search of loot. When he found none, he returned to the monk. “Then, give me your clothes.” The monk stood calmly, removed his robes, folded them neatly, and handed them to the robber. Then he said, “Why don’t you sit and watch the moon with me?” “Fa,” said the robber. He left the monk and made his way down the mountain. Ah, said the monk to himself, that was truly a poor man. I would have given him the moon.

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Dancing in Dark Waters An Inuit Tale Activity on page 136

Publication in Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ book, Women Who Run With the Wolves, made this Inuit story popular. Dr. Estes calls this a “hunting story about love.” While this is a story of love between a man and a woman, it is also about compassion and creation. In the tale of Skeleton Woman, a fisherman finds himself confronted by a hideous creature. In his fear, the man runs for the safety of his home. The creature follows him. When the fisherman discovers that she is just a pile of bones, he puts her back together. She comes to life while he sleeps by drinking his tears and using his heart as a drum. The two become as one.

k No one remembers why her father pushed her into the sea, but he did. She danced in dark waters to the sound of the thundering waves. Her partners, the fish, schooled in and out nibbling at her flesh until all that was left were gleaming white bones that sank to the bottom of the sea. That place was haunted and every fisherman knew it. There was a new fisherman in the village, and he knew that a place that was not fished for a long time would be good fishing indeed. The fisherman rowed his boat out to sea and cast his line into the water. Something tugged on the fisherman’s line. He had caught a big fish. It would feed many people. The fisherman turned to fetch his net. When he turned back again, a gleaming white skull bobbed to the surface. The skull sank its teeth into the boat. Boney fingers grasped the side of the boat.

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THE STORIES The fisherman took up his oars. He rowed and rowed toward the shore. Skeleton Woman ran on the surface behind him, her head moving up and down, arms swaying to the rhythm of the waves. Finally the fisherman’s boat landed. He took his line and began to run across the beach toward the safe womb that was his hut. Skeleton Woman danced on the sand. The fisherman ducked inside. It was dark and all he could hear was the pounding of his heart. Then bones clattered to the floor. He lit a torch, and his fear was replaced with compassion, for now the skeleton was no more than a pile of bones on his dirt floor. His line was tangled all around her. “Ah, na, na, na,” he sang as he gently untangled the line from her ribs and her legs and her arms. “Ah, na, na, na,” he sang as carefully placed her bones where they belonged and covered her with a warm fur. She might be cold, he thought. The fisherman started a fire, then sat and ate as he watched her sleep. At last, he was overcome by sleep and dreamed deep dreams. The fisherman dreamed of dark waters and gleaming white bones at the bottom of the sea. He dreamed of life lost. He dreamed of murder and a tear streamed down his cheek. His tears woke Skeleton Woman. Skeleton Woman crawled across the floor until her nose-cavity was next to the man’s cheek. She smelled his tears. She was thirsty. Skeleton Woman drank the fisherman’s tears. His tears nourished her. Then, she reached inside his chest and removed his heart to play it like a drum. “Flesh, flesh, flesh, flesh. Eyes, eyes, eyes ,eyes. Hair, hair, hair, hair.” She sang for all the things a woman needs until she was whole, then she replaced his heart where it belonged. Skeleton Woman slid next to the man beneath the blanket, and the two became one. And they remained as one until the end of their days.

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Tamlin A Tale of Scotland No Activity

Janet wanders into the lands of the elfin knight, Tamlin. Theirs is a forbidden love but Janet will not let it go. She must fight the magic of the fairy queen to win Tamlin.

k (May be Sung) Hold him Janet hold him Hold your Tamlin tight Hold him Janet hold him With all your love and might Hold him Janet hold him Hold your Tamlin fast Hold him Janet hold him Set him free at last, set him free at last. The wood at Carterhaugh was haunted. Not by ghosties. Not by ghouls. But by Tamlin. Tamlin with his raven hair Tamlin with his eyes of grey Tamlin who stole the heart away From any maid who wandered there Against her father’s will.

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THE STORIES And there was Janet. And her father’s will could not hold her. Ah Janet has kilted her mantle green A little aboon the knee And she has braided her golden hair A little aboon the bree And she’s away to Carterhaugh as fast as she can flee. And Janet sat beside the well. She plucked the red red rose and placed it to her breast. From the mist stepped the elfin knight. Janet could not move. “Who walks my wood at Carterhaugh and plucks my roses red?” “Your wood?” said Janet. “This wood is not yours for my father has given this wood to me. And I, Janet, walk the wood at Carterhaugh, and pluck the red red rose as often as it pleases me.” Now Tamlin plucked the white rose and placed it beside the red. Janet could move but there she stayed. And there they loved. Ah Janet has kilted her mantle green A little aboon the knee And she has braided her golden hair A little aboon the bree And she’s away to her father’s house as fast as she can flee. What had seemed like a day had been but a space in time and no one was the wiser. Yet, as the days passed, her faced flushed and her belly bulged. Everyone knew Janet was with child. Her father was angry “You will marry a knight of my house or bring shame upon us all!” “I will marry no one of this house and the shame is my own. For the bairn that grows within me is not of this world but that of the elfin knight.” Ah Janet has kilted her mantle green A little aboon the knee And she has braided her golden hair

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R A little aboon the bree O And she’s away to Carterhaugh as fast as she can flee. S S Janet sat beside the well and plucked the red red rose. From the mist came R O the elfin knight and he placed the white beside the red. Janet placed his hand A upon her belly so he could feel the child that grew within. D “Oh Tamlin, is there nothin’ for us? Nothing we can do?” S

“Oh Janet, my sweet Janet, I had thought to tell you before but I could not. But now it seems I must. For I am not of the fairy world but as mortal as you. One day I rode these woods and fell from my horse. The queen of fairies caught me up and took me to her hill. There to do her will—to guard the well by day and ride the crossroads by night. And do you not know what night this is? It’s Hallow’s Eve when we ride the crossroads and you can set me free.” “Oh but how will I know you?” asked Janet. “First let pass the black. Then let pass the brown. And when the white steed passes by, pull the rider down. And hold me Janet hold me no matter what and I’ll be free.” Then Tamlin vanished in the mists. Janet sat beside the well the rest of the day. When darkness blanketed the earth, she went to the crossroads and hid among the bushes there. Just at that time between this day and the next, Janet heard the jingling jangling of bridles as a company of fairies entered the crossroads. First there came a black horse and the rider on its back was the most beautiful woman Janet had ever seen. She sat tall and proud in her saddle—the fairy queen. She was followed by a company of brown, and then came the white steed and Janet knew the rider by the signs that had been given her. Around his head a circlet that bound his raven hair. Upon one hand a gauntlet but the other hand was bare. Quickly Janet leapt from the bushes, wrapped her arms around the rider and pulled him to the ground. “Tamlin’s away! Tamlin’s away!” went the cry.

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THE STORIES The queen of fairies wheeled her horse about and fixed Tamlin with an icy gaze. He circled and he slithered He coiled himself around And in her arms he withered And in his place was found A snake. (Sung) Hold him Janet hold him Hold your Tamlin tight Hold him Janet hold him With all your love and might. Janet held fast. Now she smelled the rank odor of a wide beast and felt fur between her fingers. Janet found herself holding a great bear that gnashed at her face with its teeth and clawed at her arms. Hold him Janet hold him Hold your Tamlin tight Hold him Janet hold him With all your love and might. Still Janet held tight and did not let go. The bear vanished and Janet closed her eyes. She felt a wind about her face and found that she held a huge swan that beat it wings and pecked at her eyes. Hold him Janet hold him Hold your Tamlin tight Hold him Janet hold him With all your love and might.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R Now the swan was gone and all that remained was a bar of iron. But that O bar became a burning brand. It burned her fingers and the pain ran up Janet’s S arms. She wanted to release it but she wrapped her fingers tighter around it. S Janet ran to the well and plunged the burning brand into the icy water. R O Steam rose from the well and from it stepped a naked Tamlin, reborn A into this world by Janet’s own hand, their fingers still entwined. Janet put her D mantle around his shoulders. S

Hold him Janet hold him Hold your Tamlin tight Hold him Janet hold him With all your love and might Hold him Janet hold him Hold your Tamlin fast Hold him Janet hold him You’ve set him free at last, set him free at last. The queen of fairies glared at Tamlin. “Had I known this whelp of a girl would have rescued you, I would have removed your heart and replaced it with one of stone. And you Janet. You have won the bonniest and brightest knight that ever I set eyes upon.” With that the fairy queen turned her horse and left the woods followed by the company of fairies. Ah Janet has kilted her mantle green A little aboon the knee And she has braided her golden hair A little below the bree And they’re away to her father’s house as fast as they can hi And there they lived And there they loved Until the day they died.

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The Stonecutter A Chinese Fable No Activity

A stonecutter wishes to be whatever is more powerful than he, only to find that he liked being a stonecutter best, and that he was empowered by it.

k Once there was a lowly stonecutter who spent each day chip, chip, chipping away at the base of a great mountain. His clothes were dusty and covered with dirt, but he was happy. Until, one day when a rich man dressed in fine clothes walked by with his head held high. “Ah, to be a rich man” said the stonecutter, “That is powerful. I wish I was a rich man.” That night the stonecutter went to bed and when he woke in the morning he found himself in a beautiful palace. Now he was a rich man and he walked through the village. As he walked the sun rose from the east and beat down on his head, and sweat began to run down the rich man’s face. He squinted at the sun and said, “Now the sun, if it can make a rich man sweat, it is more powerful than I. I wish I was the sun.” The rich man went to bed and the following day he rose from the east and moved toward the west. Now he was the sun, a great big round and wonderful ball in the sky that shone down on the earth and made the good things grow. He dried up the land and thought, It is good to be the sun. I am strong! But then a great grey cloud moved across the sky and covered his face. “A cloud is something to be, for the cloud can hide the mighty sun. It was wonderfully powerful! I wish to be the cloud,” said the sun.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R And it was so. The sun became the cloud. The cloud moved across the O heavens and it rained on the lands and made the good things grow. The cloud S felt strong and great until a wind whisked it through the air and it lost its S control. R O “Now the wind—that is powerful indeed,” said the cloud. “I wish to be A the wind.” D The cloud became the wind and blew across the ground making great dust S

storms. It blew the skirts around the ladies’ legs and took the hats off men’s heads. And the wind felt powerful. It was good to be the wind. Until one day when the wind came to something it could not move. It blew against the base of a great mountain, but the mountain stood fast. The wind cried “I wish I was a mountain, for a mountain is strong and more powerful than I.” And so it was, the wind became the mountain. The mountain’s head touched the sky and its feet were planted firmly in the ground. It felt tall and strong and powerful. Then one day, it felt something chip, chip, chipping away at its base and looking down the mountain saw a lowly stonecutter with his hammer and his chisel in hand. And the mountain said “Now a stonecutter—that is truly powerful. I wish I could be a stonecutter.” And the mountain became the stonecutter once more, only this time he was satisfied.

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Clam and Bird Based on the Chinese Fable, The Snipe and the Mussel No Activity

The two argue over who will let go of the other and both lose in the end.

k One day a bird found a clam washed up on the shore. The bird scurried over to the clam and took hold of it with his beak. At that moment, the clam slammed its shell hard on the bird’s beak. “Let go!” the bird muffled from the side of its beak. “No, you let go,” said the clam without opening far to say so. “No you!” “No you!” The two tugged at each other, the bird flapping wildly, the clam trying to inch its way sidewise. “The tide is not coming in,” said the bird. “You’re going to bake in the sun.” “The tide is coming in,” replied the clam. “And you are going to drown.” While the two were busy arguing over who was going to give in first, a fisherman happened on the beach with his bucket and fishing line. He walked up to the pair, picked them up and dropped them in his bucket. They made tasty bait.

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Wolves in My Heart A Native Cherokee Tale No Activity

A story of advice from father to son regarding anger and pride.

k A boy started school and made many friends, but one day he came home worried and confused. One of his new friends had done something that hurt him and he did not know what to do. His father was very wise and saw the worry on his son’s face. “What is bothering you?” the father asked. “I don’t know what to do,” the boy replied. “My friend said something mean and it makes me feel angry. And I don’t want to feel angry because I really like my friend.” His father waited patiently. “Is there more?” The boy shuffled his feet with his hands in his pockets. Then he brought out his fists and pressed them together. “There are two wolves in your heart, my son. One is anger. One is love.” The boy looked at his father and asked “Which one will win?” The father replied, “Which one will you feed?”

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Bundle of Sticks Based on an Aesop Fable No Activity

A mother teaches her children a lesson about working together. With summer and children home there are bound to be more of those moments of “he said, she said, and he won’t stop picking on me!” Of course summer isn’t the only time, nor is this story relevant only to children, but perhaps it will help you get through summer a little easier. The beauty of a story like this is that you only have to tell it a couple times and then you can use cues like saying “Bundle of Sticks” when things get out of hand. If convenient you might even try snapping a twig close to those offenders. And you don’t have to be a professional storyteller to tell this story, it is short and you can improvise. A friend of mine tells the story in first person as if it happened in her family. That is very effective.

k One day a group of children were arguing. Mother was pulling out her hair, it was so loud and crazy. “Okay all of you. I want you each to find a stick and bring it to me.” The request caught the children off-guard. “What kind of stick? A long one? A little one? A pretty one?” Mother replied, “Whatever looks good to you. In fact, bring two.” Excitedly the children began searching for sticks. Some of the bickering stopped but some of them argued over who had the best one. They each brought two sticks to Mother. She looked into their bright faces, eagerly awaiting her next instruction on what to do with their treasures.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Break one.” O “What? Ah Mom.” S “Go on now, break just one.” S One after the other the children easily snapped their sticks. Even the R O youngest child was able to break the large one she had dragged to the house. A The children seemed surprised by the silly game and a little annoyed too. D “Okay, now all of bring your second stick here and put it in a pile.” S

Once the children had piled them up, Mother tied a string around them securely. “Now break that.” The smallest child tried first but she couldn’t break it. Finally it was the oldest boy’s turn. He pushed his siblings aside. “Let me show you how.” Mother didn’t say anything, she just smiled as her son picked up the bundle of sticks with both hands and... ”ugh, ugh, ugh.” He even tried stepping on one end but no matter what he did he couldn’t break it. “When you fight all the time, you are like single sticks. You can be broken,” Mother said. “If we stick together like that bundle there, nobody can break us. Just think of all the amazing things you can do if you work together.” With a smile, Mother walked away and into the house. As soon as she closed the door she heard a loud ruckus. Looking out the window she found that the children were not bickering. The sound she heard was laughter and squeals of delight as they took turns pushing each other on the swings.

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Pandora’s Box created by

Lorna MacDonald Czarnota based on a Greek Myth No Activity

As with many stories, Pandora’s Box has several variations. The following is a modernized rendition that combines elements from these classic variants. In the story we learn why the terrible things are in our world, but we also discover that the wisdom of the gods was to include “Hope” so that mankind is not completely doomed to hardship. For today’s youth, this is a very important lesson. They need “Hope” more than ever.

k Prometheus and Epimethesus were brothers. Prometheus was very talented and creative. He was what you might call a “Type A” personality, always working, always the perfectionist and never to be outdone by anyone. Epimetheus? Not so much. Oh he tried, he tried very hard. But things didn’t always turn out that well for him. However, he did have a very important task in the creation of the world. Epimetheus created the animals. This may explain their oddities, but nonetheless it was his job. He gave everything of himself to the project. He made big animals and small animals, ones with legs and animals that flew and swam. I suppose in a way this was his downfall. For you see, he gave so much of himself that when it came to the last animal, man, he had nothing left. What was he to do? Epimetheus did what he always did in such cases, which was often. He went to his brother for help. “Uh, yo Bro,” he bumbled. “I gots a problem. I need you to make Man.” “What?” Prometheus complained. “I’m always helping you out. Not this time. No.”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “But Bro, yer my…uh…Bro.” O Prometheus took one look at his brother’s troubled brow and sad puppyS dog eyes. S “Aww, all right then,” he said. “But this better be the last time.” R O Epimetheus smiled. And really although Prometheus was helping his A brother, he was also thinking to himself that if he didn’t, someone else would. D And he couldn’t have that. S

So Prometheus made Man. He made him tall and strong and handsome. He gave him thought. But Prometheus was not satisfied to just give Man the same ole, same ole. No, he had to give Man something that no other creature on earth had, something to warm him, to cook his food, to light his darkness. Promethesus gave Man—fire. The only problem was that it wasn’t his to give. Prometheus stole the fire from Zeus, Father of the gods. And Zeus was not happy. When Zeus discovered what Prometheus had done, he fumed. He paced. He fumed some more! “I will punish this insult. But I will not punish Prometheus directly. Oh no. I will punish his creation, Man.” So Zeus went to the God of Fire, Hephaestus, whose forge made the metals of the world. Of Hephaestus Zeus commanded, “I want you to create something so horrible, so diabolical that Man will suffer! I want you to create Woman.” I imagine even Hephaestus gasped at this terrible command but he did as Zeus bid him. Using clay for its pliability, the metal smith fashioned a beautiful woman. He gave her curves, and soft skin. The other gods and goddesses gifted her as well. They gave Woman grace, song, dance, and many other talents, and they gave her a HUGE curiosity. Then Hermes, Messenger of the gods, delivered the package to Epimetheus’ door. Now while Prometheus had been creating Man and contemplating the theft of fire, he made sure to tell Epimetheus, “If someone comes to your door and leaves you a gift, don’t open it.” Epimetheus replied, “Right.” And I can’t tell you how long before all of this had happened or explain why Prometheus would entrust his brother with anything of great importance,

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THE STORIES but he had also given Epimetheus an elaborately carved wooden box and told him, “Don’t open it.” To which Epimetheus also replied, “Right.” And he was very good about keeping his word. The box sat in the corner of his great hall and he never once even thought about it. What was in the box? Oh, even a “Type A” personality makes mistakes and Prometheus had put some of his less than successful creations in there. But Epimetheus wasn’t the least bit curious, nope. Then Hermes came and there was a knock on the door. And Epimetheus pretty much forgot his brother’s warning and opened the door. And there she was, standing right there in his doorway. A soft, sweet, curvaceous woman. Epimetheus’ jaw dropped and he began to drool. “Hi’” he slobbered. “Yello.” The Woman twisted a finger in her golden ringlets. “Moy name is Pandooooora. What’s yours?” “Epimetheus,” he said. “I love you.” “I know.” “Marry me.” “Okaaay.” And yes, Epimetheus did just that, forgot his brother’s warning and married the package. And they were happy. Pandora loved Epimetheus and he loved her and they lived well for many years. Then one day while Epimetheus was sitting and reading his stone tablet, Pandora was filing her nails. “Epi, what’s in the box?” He looked up from the stone tablet. “Now don’t you worry yer pretty little head about that.” “But Epi, I really wanna know. What’s in the box?” “I give you lots of pretty things, so never mind that box there.” “But Epi…” “No!” he shouted and this time Epimetheus stood his ground. Pandora let the matter drop, at least for a while. But one day Epimetheus had to go the office and as soon as he left Pandora got to thinking about that pretty box.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Oh, it couldn’t hurt to take a little peek. Could it?” O She regretted her decision, for as soon as she opened the box, all the things S that Prometheus had placed in it for safety, swarmed out and into the room. S They made dark circles around Pandora’s head. R O “Oopsie,” she said looking around. “I did a bad thing.” A She tried with all her strength to close the lid before everything escaped D but she couldn’t close it. She tried sitting on top of the lid but she was forced S

off and onto the floor. Finally, after summoning that last bit of strength that we sometimes find, Pandora forced the lid on and sat heavily on top. Then she heard a faint sound from inside the box. It was a knock. It got louder. KNOCK! “Who’s there?” She heard a faint reply. “Hope.” “Who?” “Hope. Let me out of the box.” “Oh no, I couldn’t do that, uh uh, I did a bad thing and I couldn’t do that, nope.” She paused for a moment. “Why should I let you out of the box?” “Because without me mankind is doomed.” “Oh, well why didn’t you say that in the first place.” Pandora did open that box again and now a tiny golden orb with soft wings flew from the box. The dark things cowered at the sight of it and Hope chased them out the window and into the world. Yes those things did enter our world because of Pandora’s huge curiosity. But you see, Prometheus knew that sooner or later someone would open the box, so he placed Hope in it. And Hope is still chasing away the darkness today.

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Room with Two Beds Based on the Folktale Half a Blanket No Activity

A family struggles to take care of themselves, and the aging grandfather living with them. Finally, it is decided it would be easier to send Grandfather to a nursing home. Only a small child can see that this is not the right solution. His innocence becomes an inspiration to the family. The right choice is not always the easiest.

k There once was a small family, a mother, a father and a son. But when the father’s father became too old to care for himself, he moved in with his son’s family and now they were four. This little family was happy enough. As long as there was food on the table and a roof over their heads, there was no struggle. Then one day this changed. The father lost his job and their income was not enough to feed three, let alone four. One day the man’s wife took him aside and they spoke in whispers, but not so low that a nosey boy couldn’t hear what they were saying. “Look at your father,” she told her husband. “He has been with us for so long but everyday he gets more frail. He is not going to be long in this world and he is just an extra mouth for us to feed.” The man was shocked at what his wife said. How could she speak this way about an old man—his own flesh and blood? Yet, she made a convincing argument. “I wouldn’t mind so much if he could work and if we had enough for our own son. If he was in good health, it wouldn’t matter.” Finally the man gave in to his wife’s plea. Their young boy shrank in his heart at the words of his parents. He crawled into his grandfather’s lap and leaned his head on his grandfather’s shoulder.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “Pappy,” he said. “I will always love you.” O His grandfather slowly moved a gnarled and wrinkled hand to pat the S boy’s head and smiled an almost toothless smile. S A while later, after speaking on the phone for a long time, the young faR O ther came to his father’s side. A “Papa, we have made a difficult decision. It is time for you to go to the D home. They have plenty of activities everyday and nurses who can take care S

of you.” Just then the little boy lifted his head and asked, “Did you ask if they have a room with two beds?” It was a strange question and the father thought perhaps his son wanted to go live with the old man. He was just about to explain when the boy spoke up again. “Because someday Dad, you’ll be old and I will have to put you in the home. I just thought maybe you’d want to room with Pappy.” There came a time when Pappy needed extra help, but he stayed with his family until that time. And no matter how much or how little they had after that day, the young father knew they would get by as a family.

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The Two Warriors written by

Dan Keding. Activity on page 137

Two warriors bent on destroying each other, learn how much they have in common. After hearing each others stories, they cannot fight.

k Once there was a war and two armies came together in battle. They fought from the time the sun came up in the east until it died in the west. When the day was at a close only two warriors, two enemies remained, surrounded by their dead comrades covered in the blood and gore of war. They stood facing each other so exhausted that they could barely lift their swords to strike. Finally one warrior raised his shield and said, “It will do us no honor to continue this way. Let us sleep here on the battlefield and when the sun is born again in the east we’ll finish this fight and only one of us will go home.” The other warrior agreed. And so they took off their dented helmets and unstrapped their shields and sheathed their great swords. They laid down among their fallen comrades only a few feet apart from each other. But they were so weary from fighting, the weariness that comes with too much death that they could not sleep. Finally one turned to the other and spoke. “At home in my village I have a son and he plays with a wooden sword. Someday he wants to grow up and be like me.” In the darkness the other man listened and finally he spoke. “I have a daughter at home and when I look into her eyes I see the youth of my wife.”

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R The two men started to tell each other stories. Stories of their families, O their villages, their neighbors, the old stories that they learned at their grandS parents’ knees when they were young. All night long they told stories until the S sun started to creep to life in the east. And they watched it rise. R O Slowly they stood and put on their helmets. They buckled on their shields A and drew their swords, dried brown with yesterday’s blood. They looked deep D into each others’ eyes and slowly, without a word, they sheathed their swords, S

turned their backs to each other and walked away, each to his own home. My Grandmother always said, you cannot hate someone once you know their story.

The following stories are given in synopsis form and have been used in Crossroads programs. These stories have activities designed by the author of Crossroads. While permission could not be obtained for use of the stories themselves information is given to help you find the story sources.

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Philamondre A Haitan Folktale Activity on page 137

Philamondre is a Haitian folk story that might be considered a Cinderella variant. It can be found as “One My Darling” in a collection of Haitian stories titled The Magic Orange Tree by Diane Wolkstein (1997). In this tale, the mother has four daughters of whom she loves only three. Her fourth daughter, Philamondre is never allowed near her mother. One day while the mother is away a monster, who has heard the mother call her daughters, comes from the woods and disguises his voice to sound like the mother’s. However, he does a poor job of it and has a low gruff voice that the daughters know is not their mother. They laugh at him and do not run to his arms as they did their mother’s. Angry, the monster returns to the forest, finds a fairy, and forces it to make his voice higher. This time, when the creature calls the girls, his voice is too high and squeaky. Again he tramps off and makes the fairy “Fix my voice right or I’m gonna eat you!” When he calls again, the three daughters run straight into his trap. Philamondre stands in the doorway as always and watches the monster carry her sisters away. The mother returns home and weeps when the daughters do not come to her. Philamondre informs her of what has happened and the mother leaves to find them. Philamondre must care for herself. When the mother does not return, the girl must seek employment or perish. One day, the queen comes to check on her people’s happiness. When she sees that all the children are at play, she is pleased. Then, her eyes fall upon the ragged girl who works instead of plays. When the queen hears Philamondre’s story, she adopts her as her own daughter. Philamondre grows to be loved, by the queen and the people. Upon the queen’s death, Philamondre becomes the ruler—clothing

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R and feeding the needy people of her kingdom.One day a wild woman comes O to the gate and will not be satisfied and will not go away. She just calls and S calls her daughters. Hearing this, Philamondre recognizes her as her mother. S She brings the queen into the castle to have her cared for. When none of the R O queen’s servants can sooth the woman, Philamondre takes it upon herself to A brush her hair. She was never allowed closer to her mother. As she does this, D she softly calls the woman’s daughters “One my daughter come to mama. S

Two my daughter come to mama. Three my daughter come to mama. Mama, stay with Philamondre. Stay.” And she does.

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Star Woman’s Basket A South African Bantu Tale Activity on page 138

Based on Laura Simms’ story “Black and White Cows,” an adaptation from a South African Bantu tale, originally told by Laurens Van Der Post. It is recorded on Women and Wild Animals, which can now only be purchased from Laura Simms. [bibliography] In the story of Star Woman’s basket, a farmer discovers that his cows are running dry. Curious, he hides one night to see what has happened to them. One by one, beautiful women climb down a silver rope from the heavens. They milk the cows and disappear into the night sky. The following night, the farmer captures one of the women and makes her his wife. She agrees to the marriage as long as the farmer promises never to look in her basket. Star Woman puts the basket in the corner of their house. Her husband agrees to follow her wish. They live happily and grow to love each other. Star Woman, who is a midwife, is summoned one night to bring a new life into the world. She tells her husband she may be gone a while and is away for more than a day. He misses his wife and after a time grows curious about the basket. “After all,” he tells himself. “I have shared with her.” The husband peeks in the basket and finds it empty. She returns home at that moment. He only has time to partially replace the lid on the basket. She sees the lid ajar and is saddened by his betrayal. The husband is surprised by these events, until she explains that everything she had was in the basket. It was filled with her trust in him and now it was gone. Because of this betrayal, Star Woman takes her basket and returns to her home in the sky. The farmer has lost everything.

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Part Two

Activities

D A N C I N G AT T H E C R O S S R O A D S

Activities

The following activities were designed by the author and have been used in Crossroads programs to support both discussion and memory so that these stories become meaningful throughout life. They may be used in a multitude of settings from classroom to counseling. Many story activities include information on the symbolism in the stories, which can be used to create deeper meaning in the stories and as springboards for discussion. They may be used in conjunction with Dancing at the Crossroads: A Guide for Caregivers in At-Risk Youth Programming and the Dancing at the Crossroads: A Guide for Practitioners in At-Risk Youth Programming.

CROSSROADS DANCING SYMBOLISM:  Crossroads: In Celtic folklore, the crossroads represents a place that is neither here nor there. It is between time and space. It is a grey area where anything can happen. Many people believe that the spirit world can be contacted in these in-between places. When we enter them, we enter dimensions other than our own. Young adults are at the crossroads between childhood and adulthood.  Being devoured by darkness: Darkness represents a physical sensation as when the lights are out. An absence of good and truth. Negative influences can reach us in dark places.

SUGGESTED USES:  This story may be used as a lesson in generosity versus greed, but it is also a lesson about hope

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ACTIVITIES  People like Blossom and her son are around us all the time, but knowing there are people like Twig in our world is comforting.  This story has the message that beauty comes in many forms. We should be careful how we judge others.  There is the message of choice. Throughout our lives we are presented with “bags.” It is not so much which one we choose that determines our future, but why we choose it. The story does not tell us what was in the other bags. Maybe it would not have mattered which one each boy chose, but it was his intent that determined the bags’ contents. This is also an initiation and choice story. Two boys from different backgrounds receive the same initiation in this story. One is rewarded for making correct choices and becomes a man. The other boy, by making incorrect choices, fails and remains stuck in his childhood. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 1. What other symbolic in-between places and times might be found in stories? A. On a fence or fencepost, midnight, twilight, noon, in a doorway, Halloween, in midair, a body of water, a mirror, one foot in the grave, etc. 2. How could Blossom’s son atone for his deeds and move into his adulthood? Is this possible? A. It is always possible to move on and leave the past behind. This is not always easy and sometimes we feel we have to do certain things to set things right first. We might apologize to those we have offended. We might hold a ceremony to “bury” the past. We might do something very mature to show that we understand the different between “right and wrong.” Sometimes, after we have made a mistake, it takes a long time to prove ourselves. It takes patience.

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3. What other lessons does this story teach? A. This story informs us on how to raise our children to respect the property of others, be honest, and not be greedy for more than they deserve. It also shows us how to accept gifts graciously and share with those less fortunate than ourselves. PROJECT: Youth interview family members and compile a small booklet of family superstitions, beliefs, mottoes, and clichés. ACTIVITY : 1. Youth design and take part in a rite of passage to bring about healing or righting some “wrong.” (See examples in Rite of Passage*) 2. Youth write a letter to someone they have offended or who has made them angry. Sometimes, just being allowed the right to say it has healing power. It is not necessary to actually send the letter. If you decide to send them, use the 24 hour rule; wait and decide later. 3. The session leader gives each youth something that symbolizes their empowerment to move on in their lives. Suggested items: Strips of old clothes, once worn by the youth if possible, so they can carry that reminder with them, or a glowing pebble to help them find the way (see Appendix II: Materials Resource List).

SIR GAWAIN AND DAME RAGNELL SYMBOLISM: • Sir Gawain represents innocence and what is good. He is the child about to become an adult. • Dame Ragnell is experience and wisdom. She is a good match for Sir Gawain and also represents someone older than he. She also represents springtime and winter or fall, the changing seasons. She herself is the opposite of her brother. Where the Green Knight is alive and wild, she is hideous and loathsome. She represents death. Gawain’s decision to let her choose empowers her to spring to life again. • The Green Knight is the living forest. In story, the forest represents all that is unknown and a spiritual journey. *Rites of Passage information can be found on page 121 of Dancing at the Crossroads: A Guide for Caregivers in At-Risk Youth Programming

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ACTIVITIES • Arthur’s hunt of the stag into the woods is his journey into the unknown, but Arthur is already a tested male. Therefore, Sir Gawain is substituted for Arthur in the marriage scene. Dame Ragnell chooses the youngest and most pure of Arthur’s knights. • Choice is life-giving. Without choice and the freedom to choose, most people become like Ragnell. They die if not physically, at least spiritually. Yet, it is important to remember that Ragnell’s choice to be beautiful day and night also includes the responsibility of action. SUGGESTED USES: • Choice is a centerpiece for this story. It tells us that women want choices, but this is a story from a time when women had few. We should also consider this as a story that speaks to the desire of people in general. • Responsibility: Choice is empowering, but with choice comes responsibility. If Gawain chose for his wife, he would have been responsible for the outcomes she mentioned. The responsibility became hers, since she chose for herself. • This story also shows us a positive relationship between a man and his wife. The choices in that relationship were ones that they discussed openly, although Gawain gave the responsibility to his wife. He was compassionate in his dealings with her before and after the marriage, and took her as his wife regardless of her appearances. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 1. How are choice and responsibility shown in the story? What choices do the characters have to make? What is the attached responsibility of their choices? 2. What is Ragnell’s responsibility? A. She remains with Gawain until the end of their days. For Ragnell, love and relationship are responsibilities. She also must accept the consequences of her choice to be his beautiful wife always.

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3. Does responsibility have to be difficult? Name a responsibility that seems easy. 4. What should we do if we can no longer meet our responsibilities? A. We cannot be expected to be perfect individuals. Being imperfect is part of being human. However, the choices we make determine what kind of person we are—our morality. There will be many times in life that we will take on responsibilities and will find that we can no longer meet them. This does not make us bad people, but it is quite a different story if we choose to ignore those responsibilities rather than deal with them. B. Sometimes it is necessary to admit failure and give the responsibility to someone else. It is all part of the growing process. Because so many adults have the same problem living up to every responsibility, it might also be said to be part of life itself. 5. What responsibilities do we have at home? At school? In our communities? 6. What other responsibilities might we have in the future? 7. How are our choices connected to these responsibilities? 8. How are attitudes connected to choice? A. How we choose to view our situations, negatively or positively, shapes our attitude toward ourselves. It also effects the situation and our overall lives. 9. Do our goals and our responsibilities go together? How? PROJECT: Have the students design a timeline of responsibility, beginning with their first responsibility and ending with their future projections for age twenty-five. For example, ask the students “What were your first responsibilities? Did you have to set the table? Take out the garbage? Feed a pet? How old were you?” 1. They would begin their timeline with that first job. They should continue with their timeline until they reach their current age and

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ACTIVITIES responsibilities. Rolls of adding-machine paper are an easy material for creating timelines 2. Once they list these in the time-line, they would begin to project for the future. What do they want their responsibilities to be at the end of the school year? Next year? Five years from now? Ten? Etc. Goal: By doing this, the students will get a glance at what they are already expected to do and begin planning for their futures. You can also discuss how to reach those goals.

ACTIVITY Create a shadow box collage of your desires for yourself. If Arthur asked what you wanted as a reward for helping him, what would you have answered? Materials: You will need a shoe box, cut up pictures and words of various sizes cut from a magazine, glue, scissors, coloring pens, crayons or paints, odds and ends such as small mirrors, glitter, feathers, and sequins. Youth can tell the story of their desires by showing the box to the group or session leader.

SOURCE INFORMATION This story is one of the many Arthurian tales that predate the Middle Ages. We think of these as medieval tales because they were very popular during the Middle Ages and first put in written form at that time, but the themes and the characters overlay ones used in earlier Celtic times. It is very possible that the characters are representations of the gods and goddesses worshiped by the Celts. Historians have also found possible connections with ancient Roman historical figures. Chaucer’s version of this story The Tale of the Wife of Bath in the Canterbury Tales is one of the best known. In this version, the knight of the forest is black. In some earlier versions, the knight is green. He is the same Green Knight that Gawain faced in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He may be the same figure as the Celtic god of the woods, sometimes known as the “Green Man.”

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In Chaucer’s tale, the Black Knight is an errant knight who accosted a lady. We should always be aware that other versions of stories may exist. We should attempt to explore them before deciding which story is right and best for our situation.

A MOTH TO THE FLAME SYMBOLISM:

 Becky represents youth, inexperience, and innocence. In many stories, it is the young person who takes the journey.  Mildred: mentor, wise-woman, crone, hope  Moth: instinct, lack of control, Becky  Flame: that which destroys and creates.  Night and Darkness: the unknown, the uncertain, fear  Kitchen: the world of women, security, and warmth  The man carrying his child and holding the door for his wife: proof that there are good relationships, positive male role models.  Rain: Baptism, new birth  This is also a story about hope and adult mentorship. It is most definitely, a hero’s journey tale about choice of action. Choices make people different from moths.

SOURCE INFORMATION The idea for this story came to me while in the restroom at a storytelling conference in October 1997. A writer may see or hear things that trigger the beginnings of a story. For “A Moth to the Flame,” the trigger was a moth flying around a bare light bulb. This became a metaphor for people who make the same mistakes again and again. This story is about making changes. It is a teaching tool for discussions on abuse. Because this story is rooted in folkloric symbolism, it lends itself very well to any number of writing exercises in both a therapeutic and an academic setting.

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ACTIVITIES USING “MOTH TO THE FLAME” WITH AT-RISK TEENS Share this story with teens who are dealing with abuse or just “hanging out” with the wrong people. Moth to the Flame was written to empower abused women, but is also useful when talking about empowering self through choice or in discussion regarding giving control to others. Teens often feel as though others have all the control, but when we look closely at what is happening to them many have given that control away. This story is about more than an abused woman. It is essentially a story about a woman who finds the power to make a positive choice toward changing her life. Most of us do not do this alone. It is the elders, the wise women, and our deepest intuitions that guide us and provide us with the answers. Sometimes these answers are in the form of example or question such as when Mildred captures the moth, releases it and asks Becky, “Now what are you going to do?” She never has to tell the answers to Becky. She uses visual cues, which is how the power of story can reach these young people. They do not necessarily need more adults telling them what to do and what to think. When framed with a question or theme, the subtle metaphors reach them. If using this story with a small, intimate, specific group, have each person light a votive candle after writing on the votive holder one word that represents whatever they want to bring into their lives. Discuss self-empowerment and our ability to make choices; even at those times we don’t feel we have any. We can decide how to behave in any situation. We may choose whether to accept it, and we may choose not to choose at all. Following the story, discuss how we must give something up to make our “wish” come true. Nothing happens without sacrifice. Each person is asked to say what he or she thought Becky gave up. Just as Becky did, we blow out those candles one by one while saying one thing we will give up to make our “wish” come true. Give the teens their candles and invite them to light them in celebration each time they make a stride in a direction toward their goal. “Moth to the Flame” is not always an easy story to listen to and sometimes stirs up emotions that may not be the storyteller’s place to handle. Because of this, it is wise to require a qualified therapist or staff person to be present.

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Having a staff member from the facility present can avoid many other issues that may arise and is recommended at all times. Also check with staff regarding the use of open flames in the venue, and the safety of the youth having candles they may light without permission. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 1. Why did the author make Becky a young woman instead of an older one? A. Youth represents innocence and inexperience. 2. What other symbols can be found in this story? 3. The author considers Mildred a flame that attracts moths. What does she mean by this? A. She attracts people in need, just like Becky. They are drawn to her warmth and openness. 4. Are there other symbols that might have been used in the story if you had written it? 5. It was the title for the story that came to the author first. Why did she choose the metaphor of the moth to the flame? A. Moths will fly to the light of a lamp or a fire. More often than not, the heat or fire will kill them. They do this instinctively although they will die. 6. Does the moth know it will die? A. Probably not. 7. Are people different from the moth? How? Why? A. Human beings have the power to reason and make logical choices. Yet, they do not always use that ability. 8. Do people do things although they know it is harmful or wrong? Why? 9. What do you think about your actions now that you can look back on them? Would you do it again?

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ACTIVITIES

PROJECTS: Writing Opportunity A: Look around the room or community. Is there something that draws attention? Find a way to use it in a story. These stories can be in any genre and take place in any time period. Try using the object or idea as a title to get started. Writing Opportunity B: “Did you use symbols in the short story you wrote in this exercise? If so, what are they? If not, could you now add some?” Generate a list of possible symbols used in stories. Have the students write their story again, this time thinking about and adding specific symbolism. ACTIVITY: SOS Tree 1. Use a sheet of drawing paper that can be folded and carried in a pocket or purse. Sketch an outline of a tree with at least three roots at the bottom. 2. The youth should write their name at the top of the tree. Between the leaves, write the following statement “I need __________, __________, and ____________ to thrive and survive.” 3. At the roots write the names of at least three people who can be counted on when needed. They should be trusted family members, clergy, neighbors, friends, social workers, police, firefighters, etc. 4. Write the phone numbers of these people. Look in a phonebook for any that are unknown. 5. Title the artwork SOS Tree (Survival Of Self ). 6. If wanted, spend time coloring and adding sketches and symbols that represent each name.

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ABUSE WORKSHOP Caregiver: The following information can be used as a follow-up workshop to the story “A Moth to the Flame” but may not be appropriate in all venues which is why it is included separately from the above follow-up activities About Abuse: A Moth to the Flame was written to address spousal abuse. The message of the story also applies to any abuse, not just spousal and physical. How can we recognize abuse? Physical abuse is easy to see and feel. It hurts and can leave visible bruises and scars. However, the wounds can be hidden. Sometimes, as in cases of emotional and verbal abuse, the wounds cannot be seen. Yet, they are there and they are real. 1. Physical abuse: There are laws to protect us from physical abuse no matter who uses it. It might be a parent, teacher, peer, or a stranger. It is wrong if someone strikes us. We have choices at that point. 2. What are they? A. Seek help from someone nearby. Seek legal assistance. Strike back. Remember: Whichever action we choose, it will have consequences.

ROLE-PLAYING OPPORTUNITY: 1. What could be the consequences for the choices above? Role-play each situation and test your theories. Make sure all role-players understand this is not a real scenario. 2. When is it abuse and not just legitimate punishment for your actions? 3. Is it ever okay to strike a child? Another person our age? Someone older? A wife or husband? Why or why not, and when? Verbal and Emotional Abuse: Verbal abuse usually leaves emotional scars. When we call others names or make fun of their appearances, abilities, or intelligence, we injure them in ways that we cannot fully realize. Often, these injuries get carried throughout life, resurfacing as a lack of self-respect and self-confidence. They can become life threatening as with anorexia, bulemia, and suicide.

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ACTIVITIES Children have developed many methods for dealing with bullies in song and rhyme. 1. What might these songs or rhymes be? A. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” “I am rubber. You are glue. What you say bounces off me and sticks to you.” The problem is even greater when abuse comes from those we respect. In these cases, simple rhymes will not lend power to the child. When a parent or spouse uses name-calling, the child can only assume that this is proper behavior. After all, that adult is the person who is teaching the child how to live. B. What lessons do parents teach their children by example? Another form of abuse that can lead to emotional and mental problems is neglect. Studies show that children need to be held and loved, not just fed and clothed. Neglect and lack of affection cause problems for the child and teach the child that this is proper care of children. Other forms of neglect might include withholding education and an unsafe or unhealthy environment. 2. What will abused children do for their own children when they have them? Not all abused children become abusive adults. Sometimes, they simply find themselves back in an abusive situation. This is what happened to Becky in the story. She wanted happiness and love, but subconsciously sought the same type of man as her stepfather. Of course, sometimes children win, and become loving, productive adults. Sexual Abuse: Sexual abuse is one form of physical abuse. Someone who wishes to take advantage of another sexually might offer gifts, promises, or make threats. They may force themselves upon the other person. This is

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abuse. Sexuality is private, to be given not taken. No one has the right to force another into sexual activities anytime. It does not matter if it is a friend, relative, spouse, or stranger. Both parties must give consent and understand that consent. Sexual activity with anyone who is considered by the law to be a minor is always unacceptable and illegal. 1. How can we prevent a situation where we might be sexually abused? 2. What could we do if we were in such a situation? 3. How can we help ourselves or another person if we suspect abuse? We can usually help ourselves by the choices we make, unless we are physically restrained. Sometimes we can do little to help someone else. If we know that they have a problem, we can suggest that they seek help or let someone they can trust know about our suspicions. Never assume abuse. In other words, be very careful. We might do more harm than good. As for self, seek help. Do not try to go it alone. The first few hours and days after removing yourself from an abusive relationship are the most dangerous. Others will help keep you safe. Some places to find help are with your school counselor, trusted teacher, trusted neighbor, church or temple leader, or any number of organizations with people trained to deal with these problems. (A list of these organizations and their phone numbers is found in Appendix I: Resource Help List.) There is no shame in getting help. You are not to blame for the choices that help you survive, whatever they might be. Use the right to choose. DID YOU KNOW? 33% of teenagers experience physical violence in dating relationships. Every 15 seconds someone is experiencing domestic violence in the United States. Both men and women can be abused or become an abuser.

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THE BOY WHO THOUGHT HE WAS A MAN SYMBOLISM:  The Mountain: Sometimes people say “I’ll cross that mountain when I get there.” Eventually, we get there. We just need to know which mountains to climb and when. We must be prepared for the journey when the time comes, if not we may fail.  The Father: Our parents, and the adults in our community, are supposed to be our guides and teachers. They are to prepare us for the journey. Adults help us to listen to our intuition so we will know how to “fight the good fight.” The boy in this story was so involved in his desire to climb the mountain, he did not heed the warning signs or his father’s guidance.  Snakes: The snake is not a symbol of evil, but of transformation. It is a creature that can shed its skin, which represents rebirth. The snake, that can shed it skin, also wears a mask. It is often association with life in darkened dens and under rocks; therefore it also symbolizes dishonesty and underhandedness. As with the wolf, the snake is something people have come to fear. We sometimes say, “He or she was a snake.”  Ascent and Descent: In this story, the boy ascends the mountain, but just as quickly descends it. What the boy did not know is once we climb the mountain of “adulthood” we cannot come back. SUGGESTED USES  There are many versions of this story. “Coyote the Judge” is one example. However, in “Coyote the Judge,” Coyote settles the matter between Rabbit and Snake, and Snake is repaid. The same is true in “Brer Possum,” another version of this story. These are cautionary tales, teaching us the danger of knowing what is wrong, but doing it anyway. It is also a story of trust.  TRUST: In real life, stories do not always have happy endings. When we choose the wrong friends or place ourselves in bad situations

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there may not be a second chance. We need to think things through carefully and know who to trust. It is also wise to know when we should back off from a situation. Inevitably, someone we trust will hurt us. This does not mean we should avoid people because of it. It means we need to realize that some situations are bad for us and avoid them. This often comes from listening to others who have had similar experiences such as our teachers and family members. We can trust them to tell the truth about those situations. These life lessons also come from our own experiences.  MAKING MISTAKES: There is an old adage that says, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Sometimes it is not enough to recognize a mistake. Some people just do things although they know they are wrong or harmful. Furthermore, it is not always enough when someone tells us something is wrong. Sometimes, finding it out on our own is necessary. Unfortunately, for the boy in the tale, it was a deadly experiment. In the story, the boy helps the snake even though he knows it is a snake. He falls for the snake’s sweet words. The snake in this story might represent false friends or harmful situations. We usually know what is right and what is not. Once we learn to listen to our intuition, we will notice little red flags warning us of potentially dangerous events in life. If in doubt, it is always best to err on the side of right. “Better safe than sorry.” QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 1. Why did the boy help the snake? 2. Have you ever found yourself in a position of having to choose right from wrong? 3. Did you do the right thing? Whatever the outcome of your experience, do you feel you learned from it?

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ACTIVITIES 4. Have others ever tried to talk you into something you knew was wrong? When this happens, what can be done about it? 5. Have you ever tried to help someone only to have him or her turn on you? Would you help that person again? Why or why not? PROJECT Writing Opportunity A: Write an alternative ending for this story. What would have happened if the outcome were different? What would the lesson be? Writing Opportunity B: Consider some problem that others your age or younger might face as they grow up. Write a story using animals and symbols to teach the lesson of how to deal with that situation. ACTIVITY What mountain are you climbing at this time in your life? For example, are you trying to finish school? Looking for a job? Trying to get your child back? Getting off drugs? You might be facing many mountains at once, but choose just one that represents them all. 1. Draw one side of a mountain. Instead of drawing the other side as a descending mountain, put a flat line at the top and continue it all the way to the edge of the paper. 2. On the mountainside, draw a sketch of yourself wherever you feel you are in climbing your mountain. Place yourself near the bottom, middle, or the top. 3. Label or sketch pictures of the obstacles or helping hands that are behind and in front of you. 4. Draw your big goal at the top. 5. Along the flat part of the top, draw or label some future goals. Do not set too many goals at once. Three or four are enough. This picture now represents you and your goal(s). Can you see what you need to do? You might add some people or things at the bottom, helping push you up. Put some people or things at the top, helping cheer you toward success. It is realistic to put some things

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along the path that try to hold you back or might harm you. They exist in everyone’s life. Think about how you will handle those obstacles when you get to them. 6. At the bottom of the paper, draw or label the tools that you can use to overcome your obstacles. When finished drawing, it might look similar to a video game screen. Try giving it a game name. 7. Color it and have fun.

SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT SYMBOLISM:  Green Knight: As with the story of Dame Ragnell and Sir Gawain, the Green Knight represents the living forest. He is also a wise teacher in both stories. In Dame Ragnell he knows the secret desire of women. In this story, he knows the weaknesses of humankind and teaches Gawain the true meaning of honor.  Severed Head: There is a culture in ancient mythology that reveres the severed head. Some historians believe the Ancient Celts followed a form of headhunting. They displayed the heads of their enemies on posts outside their houses to show prowess and power. They believed that a being’s power was stored in the head, and by taking the head one gained that power.  Magic Artifacts: Magic Artifacts: The story does not tell us if the green belt could actually save the wearer, but we do know Gawain bled from the axe-blow on his neck. While it is possible the belt saved him, it is more likely it was an ordinary belt. However, many stories do have magic items from swords to shirts to boots. These talismans lend the wearer superhuman abilities. Some everyday objects are considered protective. Some religions use saints’ medals and relics for various purposes. Some people carry a rabbit’s foot, penny, or four-leaf clover. One superstition is that we should not let anyone get our hair when we cut it or they can control us.

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ACTIVITIES  The Green Chapel: A place of life in a dead world. Some might call it heaven. SUGGESTED USES This is a very powerful story for teens trying to make the right choices because “right choices” are often the hardest to make. This is also a “coming of age” story. Gawain goes from being an impulsive “child” to an adult when he discovers that choices are not so easy to make. DISCUSSION This is another of the most popular Arthurian tales. We do not know whether it came before or after the Dame Ragnell story. Think about each of these possibilities. As a tale that precedes the Dame Ragnell story, we would see a very young Gawain who recklessly endangers himself for honor. During the Arthurian period, honor was earned through deeds of bravery. By being the only knight willing to slay the Green Knight and accept the responsibility of his actions, Gawain gains great honor. Yet, he must prove himself worthy of that honor. He makes the journey toward death at the appointed time, but is tested by his host’s wife. Gawain accepts her favors and keeps his promises until she offers him a way to save his life. By accepting the lady’s belt and not sharing it with his host, Gawain dishonors himself. He not only fails to fulfill the promise to share, but shows fear of his death by taking the belt to protect him. He is scarred for life for his wrong choices. If this story came after Gawain marries Ragnell, we might think him disloyal to his wife when he accepts the lady’s favors. However, in medieval terms, he would have been less than chivalrous to do otherwise. Gawain would have been less than honorable if he had not accepted the gifts given to him. We would assume that he kept his faith with Ragnell upon his return to Arthur’s court. In addition, by wearing the belt as a reminder of shame, Gawain shows his willingness to accept the responsibility of his actions.

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QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 1. Would the Green Knight have killed him if Sir Gawain had gone straight to him instead of staying at the castle? Why or why not? 2. In some versions of this story, the other knights in Arthur’s court also insist on wearing green belts. Why might they do that?  It becomes the style or fashion because they think it is “cool.”  They want to help Gawain look less obvious in the crowd.  They want to be reminded to do the right thing. DEATH AND INITIATION The story of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is in many ways an initiation story. Gawain is given a challenge and tests to pass. He enters a journey toward his own death, making this a story about dealing with death as well. We are reminded that death is not just for the old and infirm, that our actions can result in death even if we are young. Gawain’s death journey is a metaphor. To gain a new self, one must often give up the old self. Actions must be accompanied by a certain maturity and sense of responsibility. In addition, questing is found in many cultures. Sometimes, they send boys into the wilderness on survival quests. If they return to the village alive, they are considered men. Gawain’s impulsive youth is changed and he returned home a markedly different person. TATTOOS, BODY JEWELRY, AND THE WAY WE DRESS Why do people get tattoos, wear body jewelry, or dress differently from others? Many anthropologists see this as an initiation rite. In many current cultures, these actions mark the difference between childhood and adulthood. 1. What happens when cultures collide, as when a person chooses to dress in a way considered unacceptable in that culture? Every generation has had its rebellious youth. In the 50s, it was Rock ‘n’ Roll. It was long hair in the 60s.

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ACTIVITIES 2. How do young people today separate themselves from the previous generation? 3. How do we mark our passage into adulthood in our culture? A. Driver’s license, voting rights, drinking rights, moving into our own apartments, marriage 4. What are the responsibilities that accompany these choices? 5. What other passages do we mark and how? Does your family have any specific ceremonies or activities that mark passages, especially into adulthood? 6. How is Gawain initiated? How is his passage marked? A. He is scarred and chooses to wear the belt as a reminder of his actions. 7. How might he atone for his deeds and move into his adulthood? 8. What other lessons does this story teach? A. This story tells us how to raise children to respect the property of others, be honest, and generous. B. It also shows us how to graciously accept gifts and share with those less fortunate than ourselves. PROJECTS Create a symbolic green belt using green paper or cloth. Cut the materials into a two-inch wide strip long enough to reach around the youth’s waist. Draw or paint symbols on the belt that represents the things and people in the youth’s life that form a protective circle for them. Some youth facilities will have concerns about youth using ties, strings, and cloth to commit suicide. Paper is the best solution in these instances. ROLE-PLAYING OPPORTUNITY Try role-playing alternative endings to this story.

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FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW SYMBOLISM:  Unicorn: The unicorn has often been associated with innocence. It is said that they may only be seen by the pure of heart and all who touch them become immortal. The unicorn’s horn is believed to hold the power of healing.  Death: The end of this story involves a death, but death may also be representative of change in our lives. All births require the end or death of something, and death requires birth to follow it. If a person moves from one place to the other, he or she is experiencing a kind of death, leaving behind the old. Birth is the discovery of something new. We have many of these death/birth experiences in our lives.  Birth: It is possible for a negative experience to be considered a birth. For example, if someone commits a crime and is arrested, they must leave behind their life of freedom. That free-life is now dead. The person’s time in prison would be the birth of a new life. Good and bad, right and wrong, have nothing to with newness, birth, or death.  The Frozen Girl: the idea of being frozen, in this story, represents a place in time where everything stands still. The girl’s life has come full-circle so she is at the beginning. The author needed a way to take the girl from one story into a new story, the story of her rebirth. Therefore, the girl is symbolically frozen in time and space, representing a person stuck and unable to find their way out. At this point in the story, to all people who are not frozen, this girl is dead. However, she has used her imagination and her strong belief to move beyond the place where she is stuck. Our modern society calls this “faith.” Faith is believing in that which we cannot see or touch. The frozen girl is used in two ways. First, she is safe to believe in her ideas without criticism from others because she is the only one who can see the truth. Secondly, it is an artistic literary device that allows for the metaphorical rebirth of the girl. Only those with similar

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ACTIVITIES innocence or belief can see the unicorn and girl after that point in the story. SUGGESTED USES This story is very beautiful, but also deals with a young person’s death. While this may be a metaphorical death, it is best to tell this story after discussion on the metaphors of birth and death when working with at-risk youth. Suicide among today’s youth is on the rise and we need to be very careful of the messages we send. QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 1. Can we think of times in our lives when we have experienced some form of change? If we think of that change as a metaphor for death, what was the birth that followed that change? A. Graduation (death of the old grade, birth of the new one) B. Divorce (loss of the old family member or lifestyle) C. Moving to a new home (loss of old friends, beliefs, or gaining new ones) D. Getting a first “A” in a subject (death of old habits, birth of new ones) 2. What were the deaths and births in the story? A. A change in the relationship between the mother and daughter. B. The loss of an idea or belief when the girl is told that unicorns are not real. C. The loss of the girl’s creativity. D. The girl’s death, when the glass unicorn shatters on the floor. E. The moment the girl sees the unicorn in the snow and rides away on it. F. The moment the EMT sees the unicorn and the girl in his ambulance mirror.

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3. How do imagination and belief play a role in our lives? How can it help us achieve our goals? A. People who can imagine and visualize themselves in a situation can make that belief come true. Even if we are in the most dreadful of situations, the ability to imagine a way out, and to believe it is possible, can save us. If we cannot imagine it, we will most likely give up and perish. PROJECT Writing Opportunity A: Our lives are stories in the making, they may also be a whole book with lots of chapters. We write the ending to the book based on our choices in life. Choose one event from your past that did not turn out the way you wanted it and rewrite the ending. As you do this, think about the actions of your character (you) and how those actions change the ending. Now think about some event you are currently experiencing or anticipate experiencing in the very near future. How would you like that story to end? Change your story to a story where the character is not you, but someone you create. For example, start the new story “Once there was a girl (or boy) who . . . . ” Imagination is a very important part of writing our own life story. Can we imagine how it will end? Can we think it through? If my character does this, this will probably happen. If he or she does that, this might happen. This puts us in charge of what happens in life. It helps us take control over our own outcomes. We are the ones responsible. When we make the choice, we cannot blame someone else. This is what gives us real power in our lives. We can create our own lives. When we blame others we are saying they had control over us. We are giving our power away. Writing Opportunity B: If this story had a sequel, what would it be? Is the girl still alive? Does the paramedic have a story to tell? What about the girl’s family?

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ACTIVITIES ACTIVITY Create an individual time capsule or have students write letters to themselves. 1. Time capsules should include something that represents the student now, as well as something representing where they would like to be in the future. Depending on the students and their current situations, the future can be a week from now, a month, a year, or five years from now. Items can either be sealed in an old paper towel roll or a box depending on what is appropriate. Give these to the student or keep in a safe place for them. 2. The Letter to Self should be placed in a self addressed stamped envelope. The letter should include skills and talents the student has at this time and how they would like to use them in the future. The students should also include a paragraph answering the following question: What do you imagine you will be doing in a week, month, year, or five years from now? Again this will depend on your students and their needs. Let the youth keep these, or mail them to the youth later. 3. Use a simple visualization technique to help youth get a visual picture of themselves in the future. Have them close their eyes and see how they look right now. Ask: What are you wearing? Where are you standing or sitting? What are you doing? Now tell them to look on the wall in their imaginations. They see a calendar. The date is _______. Ask them to see themselves on that new date. Ask them to imagine what they look like. How are they dressed? What are their surroundings? What are they doing? Remind them that they can be anywhere, doing anything. Also, remind them to be realistic based on the date. For example, they can make more changes in five years than they can in one week.

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ABOUT SUICIDE The reader must decide whether the girl in this story took her own life or something else caused her death. The girl’s death can be a metaphor rather than an actual death or suicide. This story may be a resurrection story, because the girl is seen with the unicorn. Suicide among teens is a serious problem. We cannot take it lightly. Young people should confide in an adult when they have questions and concerns about themselves or their friends. They should not try to solve this problem alone. They should seek help from a responsible adult if they or someone they know is contemplating suicide. While there are metaphorical deaths, and young people sometimes use the term casually, physical death is final. Many boys attempt suicide with firearms. Once the trigger is pulled, there is no going back. Traditionally, girls have been known to attempt suicide with pills or by slashing their wrists, which still gives time for rescue, something many want in the first place. However, modern statistics show that more girls are choosing firearms for suicide, too If a young person says they wish they were dead, we should make sure they have someone with whom they can talk. This is true even if we feel they are being casual about it.

f Unicorn Prayer by

Lorna MacDonald Czarnota

“Please God, don’t let the Unicorns die.” She sat in plaid pajamas staring, At navy blue chipped nail polish. One foot dangling over the edge of adulthood, The other tucked safely in the past. It was such a long way down, Such a long road to walk,

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ACTIVITIES Such a wide chasm to cross. Frightened. Fearful. Who would catch her if she Fell? Could she fly? Should she try? “Please God, don’t let the Unicorns die.” Then she kissed her Teddy Bear and fell asleep, Her make-up stained the pillow.

LITTLE RED RIDES WITH A HOOD DISCUSSION “Little Red Riding Hood” is filled with symbols. The process used to write this version of the time-tested tale began with a search for early renditions of the story. Older versions included the wolf telling Little Red to remove her clothes and get into bed. “Little Red Riding Hood” by Lydia Very, dated 1865, was written in poetic format. Ms. Very’s poem did indeed have the wolf telling the little girl to get into bed. It also has a woodsman and a grandmother. Other renditions include ones by Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault, which have been made less graphic. Earlier “Riding Hoods” have no woodsman to save the day and no grandmother who comes back to life. In fact, in some versions, the grandmother is eaten and the wolf tricks Little Red into eating a piece of her own grandmother’s flesh. This is a significant detail. We should remember, “Little Red Riding Hood” is so old; we do not know who really wrote it. It was probably passed down from mother to daughter, or grandmother to a granddaughter long before people could write. Women told many of the fairy tales we know. These stories are called “old wife’s tales.” “Little Red Riding Hood” was originally a cautionary and initiation story. In many ancient civilizations, and some still in existence, young people were put through rigorous and secret initiations into adulthood. Once they had passed these tests, they were given the full privileges of adulthood, including its responsibilities.

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SYMBOLISM: Sometimes not tampering with classic material is best. However, it is possible to update the time and the symbols while being true to the story’s purpose. Removing the woodsman and grandmother allows Red to be her own hero. It does not change the story since the other characters actually represented pieces of the girl. They were also her role models and teachers earlier in her life. They do not need to be present in this rap. The following are symbols from the classic version of the story. Some remain the same in this one.  Red – Passion, caution, menstruation (this is a coming-of-age story), one favorite color of the fairy folk.  Little – Childhood innocence  Riding Hood – A method with which to hide one’s identity, a ticket to adventure, an ancient symbol of those able to enter the underworld or world of the fairies. Her own mother gave this to her as a gift.  Mother – Security, wisdom, feminine side of the male  Grandmother – True wisdom that comes only with age and experience.  Wolf – Unknown and fearsome  Path to Grandmother’s House – Road to adulthood, knowledge and wisdom  Straying to pick flowers – Flowers represent purity. Straying represents adventure into the unknown  Wolf devouring grandmother and child – Evil overcoming good by taking it into itself. If the wolf eats them, they must be reborn in some way. Either the woodsman saves them or Red learns her lesson and saves herself.  Woodsman – Masculine side of the female, hero, strength

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ACTIVITIES The dance, car, music, and alcohol are included to make the story more significant to today’s young adults. However, once the grandmother and the woodsman were removed from the story, a new problem was created. Would the listeners think that all adult women are overprotective like the mother in this story? Would they get the idea that all men are evil like the wolf or “Jack the Hood”? This is one reason discussion of this story is important for young people. We must always remember that our knowledge and wisdom come from our experiences and the people with whom we come in contact. SUGGESTED USES This is a good piece for girls at risk of being promiscuous and in need of empowerment. Discussing with the listener that Little Red’s revealing dress does not mean she was “asking for it,” is imperative. For the most part, our society no longer places the blame for abuse and date rape on the victim. We should blame the perpetrator. However, we still have a long way to go toward creating a safe environment for our children. We need to stress that revealing clothing is not an excuse for perpetrators. No matter how attractive or promiscuous, nobody has the right to violate a girl. Some issues to discuss include:  Coming-of-Age/Initiation  Dating and its potential problems  Talking to strangers  Disobedience  Wisdom  Drinking and drug use  Punishment or consequence QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 1. What symbols can be found in early stories about Little Red Riding Hood?

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2. Looking at the list of issues provided earlier, where are these issues addressed in the story? 3. How do these issues affect Little Red in the story? 4. If found in a similar situation, what can we do? 5. Why does the author choose to tell the story as a rap? 6. What other stories involve children being eaten? “Hansel and Gretel” “Jack and the Beanstalk” (in threat only) “The Three Pigs” 7. How did these children escape? Were they changed in some way by their experiences? 8. What can we learn from these stories? PROJECT Writing Opportunity A: Write a letter to future youth on one issue previously discussed. Pretend to be a grandparent who has the wisdom that comes with experience. What would you tell your grandchildren about these things? Writing Opportunity B: Choose a popular fairy tale and write a poem or rap. Write it to be read to younger children, peers, or adults. ACTIVITY Make time capsules with headlines from the newspaper, pop cultural objects, and letters from the previous writing opportunity. To make the capsules, you might have the students include one object and headline with their letters. Place the letters in a paper towel roll. The students can keep these to open later. An alternative project would be to have each student write a letter of future intent and put it in a self-addressed, self-stamped envelope. Mail their letters to them sometime the following year. Did You Know? Cannibals believed that eating the flesh of their fallen enemies gave them the power and strength of their enemies. This is why the wolf eats the grandmother and why Little Red becomes wise in some versions of this story. When the wolf eats Little Red after devouring the grandmother, the girl gains her grandmother’s wisdom.

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ACTIVITIES

VASSALISA ACTIVITY: Making a Trouble Doll: Trouble Dolls come from Guatemala. They usually come in a small case with the dolls themselves numbering nine and being no more than one inch in length. The tradition says one may only have as many troubles per day as there are dolls in the case. Before going to bed, tell the troubles to the dolls and they will solve them during the night. Whether or not this is true, does not matter. What does matter is remembering that taking those troubles to bed is not helpful or wise. Each day is a beginning. The youth are usually excited about this activity. Caution needs to be taken, because some may have fears that the dolls really will come to life. Completing the dolls will take at least an hour. It will depend on how many youth participate and their skills with needle and thread. Also, it will depend on how cooperative they are when it comes to following instructions. Supplies needed to create trouble dolls: needles, blunt-nose scissors, thread, threaders, precut doll forms, quilt stuffing. Blunt-nose scissors are needed for safety especially when working with self-injurious populations. Threaders can be purchased in most sewing and craft stores. They are packaged about ten to a pack and are inexpensive. This will save everyone from having to handle thread placed in someone’s mouth. Felt can be used for the doll forms. They can also sew colorful blanket materials or other medium weight cloths such as old upholstery fabric. Keep in mind, if the cloth is too stiff sewing it will be harder. Stuffing the dolls will also be more difficult. Dolls should be soft and squeezable. The youth can use a simple chain stitch or running stitch, as long as the stitches are not too far apart. Because the dolls are trouble dolls and not play dolls, boys will also enjoy the sewing and creation. Tell the teens they can carry the dolls with them, put them under a pillow, or give them away to someone else who needs them. Be prepared to help some youth with their sewing.

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THE WEEPING LASS ACTIVITY Before telling this story, cut triangular pieces of plaid cloth enough for each listener. Following the story, give each listener the cloth and tell them it is to remind them of the story when they feel sad over the loss of a loved one. After giving out the cloth, ask the listeners to close their eyes and listen to the following visualization. “I want you to think back to a happy time or memory of someone you lost. Look around and see where you are. Take note of the smell of that person, the color of their hair, the way they are dressed. What did you really like or love about that person? Why were they so special to you? When you open your eyes, try to tell the story about that special time together and include the details you saw, felt, and smelled.” Have the listeners open their eyes and take a couple of deep breaths before volunteering to tell their story. Ask them to include the person’s name because their names and their stories are the best ways to keep their memories alive.

THE MAGIC TAPESTRY DISCUSSION Discuss with the listeners who the beggars were and why they would not allow them in. Ask what they think the golden palace represented. For example, it could be a metaphor for heaven. Give each listener a sheet of 8.5” x 11” plain white paper and crayons. Larger paper can be used if available. Ask them to draw a picture of their heavenly place. Ask them to include symbols that represent the people and things that would be there.

THE EMPTY CAGE DISCUSSION Has there ever been anything you have wanted to hold onto even though it was not working out the way you had hoped? Have you found it easy or difficult to let go?

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ACTIVITIES PROJECT Writing Opportunity A: Write a letter to the mother in this story and give her advice. Tell her how it feels to be someone’s child and what you think about what happened in the story. Writing Opportunity B: Write a poem about feeling caged.

THE SELKIE DISCUSSION How does this story make you feel? What part of the story makes you feel this way? How would you change the story? PROJECT Writing Opportunity: Write an alternative ending to this tale. What might the woman have done differently after she found her skin? How do the children of the land feel now that she is gone? Or what becomes of the man?

MR. FOX DISCUSSION 1. Have you ever met someone like a Mr. Fox? Someone who is one way on the outside and another on the inside? What became of that relationship? There is another variable of this story called Bluebeard. In this story, Bluebeard gives the girl a set of keys that open all the doors in his house but tells her not to use the smallest key. This key belongs to the door that hides Bluebeards secrets. 2. Pass an old skeleton key among the participants and ask each to consider what might be behind the door it opens. This can be something they are seeking or something they need to work on in their lives. 3. Ask the teens to create a drawing of this door and what lies behind it.

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PROJECT Writing Opportunity: Write a letter to Mary with thoughts about what she did and give her advice for the future.

GRAIN OF RICE DISCUSSION: Each daughter had the same opportunity, yet each did something different with her grain of rice. There were no losers in this story but there could only be one winner. 1. Why do you think the father was so accepting of his daughters’ choices, even the daughter who threw the rice away? 2. Has someone ever given you something, such as an opportunity? How did you use it? ACTIVITY Gift: Give each listener a single grain of rice. Put it into their palm, then have them tape it to a 3x5 card on which they have written one new thing they would like to “plant” in their lives.

THE YOUTH AND HIS EAGLE ACTIVITY Power Sticks: Use craft sticks and permanent black markers to have the youth write on each stick one risk-taking behavior they have engaged in that caused them a loss. Perhaps they caused someone else to die or be injured, or they may have lost the love of someone due to their actions. On the opposite side of the stick, have the youth write the following “Never fall in love with it.” These may be placed in a container for the youth to keep or burn in a fire depending on the needs of the group. Another idea is to keep the positive expressions and burn the negative ones. The goal is to remind us not to repeat past mistakes. Discuss the purpose of this activity with the teens. Plastic non-dairy creamer bottles make good containers and can be decorated with permanent colored markers after the labels are removed.

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ACTIVITIES Give the youth a faux eagle feather as a reminder that they can lift themselves up. (See Appendix II: Materials Resource List.)

MARY CULHANE AND THE DEADMAN DISCUSSION 1. Would you dig up the Deadman’s treasure? What do you think would happen to someone who did? 2. Have you ever been in a situation where you feel someone else had control over you? How did you get your sense of control back again? PROJECT Writing Opportunity: Write a letter to Mary giving her advice on what she should do if she ever finds herself in a similar situation again.

THE SECRETS OF HEAVEN AND HELL ACTIVITY Role-play the part of the wise monk and the Samurai warrior. Discuss the way each part felt. Observe how your heart rate felt. How did your stomach feel in both parts? Explain the differences.

DANCING IN DARK WATERS DISCUSSION Have you ever known someone who made you feel whole; they did something that put you back together or have you done that for someone else? How does this make you feel? What does it mean to a relationship when we say, “The two became one”?

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THE TWO WARRIORS ACTIVITY This story shows us how important it is to learn about others before judging them. Stories are wonderful ways to do this. There are several ways in which to further understanding of others by listening to their stories and telling our own. Hold a storytelling festival where you give each person ten minutes to tell something about their culture or family. Challenge yourself and others to collect in a journal the stories of five to ten new people within a given time frame. Then establish a time and place to share your findings. Conduct a story circle with one circle inside and one outer circle, with partners facing each other. Rotate every minute and allow the outside circle to tell their stories, then reverse. Have individuals in a larger group turn to partners and swap their stories. Note: It is important to keep the confidentiality of those telling stories. Never share the name of an individual or their story without permission. This is true of not writing their names in your journal also. This is the same courtesy you would expect from them.

PHILAMONDRE Teens love this story. They question Philamondre for forgiving her mother. Yet, being reunited with their families is one thing they all seem to want more than anything else. The story offers them hope for reunion and a lesson on forgiveness. Forgiveness is not always for our sake. Sometimes, it is for the benefit of the one who has hurt us. Sometimes we forgive people, not because they deserve it, but because they need it. When working with youth who have been abused, forgiveness can be their only hope for redemption. Forgiveness can be about making someone feel good, which in turn is fulfilling for us. Forgiving does not mean we need to place ourselves in another’s debt nor does it mean we place ourselves in danger. We can forgive to forget without

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ACTIVITIES reentering the relationship. Forgiveness is a divine act, but should not be confused with accepting the behavior of a perpetrator. It is a form of closure that allows us to let go and move on. ACTIVITY Use a candle lighting ceremony where the participants write on votive holders that which they wish to bring to them, while considering what they will give up to make it happen. PROJECT Writing Opportunity: Have the youth write a letter to the person they wish to forgive. First, have them say all the things that they despise about the person or situation. “Tell it like it is!” Then, have them give words of encouragement or forgiveness to that same person. Seal the envelope, tear it up, or burn it. This is intended as an act of release that should lead to relief. If preferred, they can seal the letters and hold onto them. Thinking before sending what we have written is always best. “Think before you act.” This is good practice. It is too easy to act out of emotion that often leads to anger, frustration, hurt feelings, and broken relationships. (I do not recommend actually sending the letters.)

STAR WOMAN’S BASKET SYMBOLISM: The star woman’s basket is a main focus of this story. It represents her sense of self and her trust in her husband. When this is violated, all is lost. SUGGESTED USES: This is a wonderful story to use with teens, especially with girls and women who have problems with self-esteem, trust, and relationships. Silence fills the room during tellings of this tale. So many of these young ladies have been betrayed and know exactly what it means to lose trust. Another message is quite clear. We have a right to retain a piece of ourselves even in the deepest relationship. Nobody has the right to take that away. It is a matter of respect.

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Successful relationships between partners, parent and child, or with friends require respectful distancing. Giving up all of oneself usually leads to resentment. Some teens have commented that they find the farmer’s forcefulness most disturbing. He assumes that by capturing Star Woman, he can have her. Downplay this aspect of the story, although it remains obvious the woman does not initiate the relationship. What is important is that she did not necessarily struggle, but instead agreed to it. The relationship then becomes a matter of choice. ACTIVITY: Round or oval-covered baskets are inexpensive and can sometimes be found at yard sales, basket, or craft shops. Having several is a good idea if planning to work with many youth over a period. Show the basket to the participants in the session. They may ask about it. Tell them it is Star Woman’s Basket and part of a story they will hear. After telling the story, give each participant a strip of paper and a pen. Remind them that in any relationship, they have a right to keep something for them, whether that is self-respect, a personal secret, or their identity. Anyone entering a relationship with them, if they truly care about them, will understand this need. Ask them to write either a wish for their futures or something they would keep for themselves in a relationship. Unlike the farmer, you will keep their wishes and desires safe. The strips of paper will always be in the basket. If a basket gets full and needs to be emptied, bury their wishes in a garden. The youth will seldom question this and appreciate the gesture. Keep the promise. The young people fold up their papers and place them into the basket. If they wish to read them aloud, encourage them to do so. Speaking the words aloud is like promising to make it so, it is a commitment. However, respect their privacy if they do not want to share. They may write about drugs and sex. It is important not to be judgmental about what they write. While this story is appropriate for girls and women, boys and men also find it thought provoking. Stories about what women want and need to be happy are also important for boys to hear. The same is true for girls about boys’ desires and ambitions.

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Appendices

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Appendix I RESOURCE HELP LIST

In the United States: SUICIDE HOTLINE: 911 or National Hopeline Network 1-800-suicide or 1-800-784-2433 website http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ Kids Help Line (crisis intervention): www.kidscrisis.com 1-877-kids- 400 or 1-877-5437- 400 American Association of Suicidology (for information on suicide) 1-202-237-2280 http://www.suicidology.org/home American Foundation for Suicide Prevention www.afsp.org (for information on suicide) 1-212- 363- 3500 National Coalition Against Domestic Violence HOTLINE 1-800-799-7233 or 1-800-799-SAFE http://www.ncadv.org/ Girl’s and Boy’s Town 1-800-448-3000 http://www.boystown.org/ National Runaway Switchboard 1-800-621-4000 1-800-RUNAWAY and http://www.1800runaway.org/ STD and Aides Hotline (24 hour service) 1-800- 227-8922 or 1-800-342-2437 Teens Teaching Aides Prevention hotline Teens T.A.P. 1-800-234-8336 (for young people seeking help who wish to talk to their peers.)

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APPENDIX

Appendix II Materials Resource List

This is a listing with contact informational for materials used in various suggested activities and gifting. Votive Candles: I purchase mine in bulk from a religious supply company. They come in individual plastic cups, which can be written on, in permanent marker. The brand I order is shipped from the Muench-Kreuzer Candle Company in Syracuse New York. They are called Disposable Votive Candles. LED Lights: Battery Operated Candles.net http://www.batteryoperatedcandles.net/CG10280-CH-p-tea-lights.html Nasco Arts and Crafts 1-800-558-9595 or www.info.nascofa.com Sax Arts and Crafts 1-800-558-6696 or www.saxarts.com Fimo Clay: This is pliable clay once you have warmed it up with your hands. It comes in a variety of colors and when baked at approximately 350 degrees for about 15 minutes will become permanently hardened. It is perfect clay for bead making. Fimo clay may be purchased at most art supply stores. Mask Forms: These are available in a variety of styles but I like the whole mask best. You can also purchase a few items for decorating masks. Also consider flea markets and yard sales as a good source for decorations. Mask forms are white and you may want to spray paint a few in various colors before a session. We have painted them at the session but they take too long to dry. Colored Sand: You will need to purchase a large quantity of the sand. Begin collecting jars in which to keep it. Jars are easier to use than the little plastic bags the sand is shipped in.

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Popsicle or craft sticks: Many arts supply companies will sell these by the box. Faux Eagle feathers: Any kind of natural feather will work. http://www.crazycrow.com/turkey-wing-feathers. Colorful feathers are best for some projects such as mask-making. You can usually find bags of feathers at your local craft store. Giant Rider-Waite Tarot Deck: a wonderful tarot card for exercises in metaphors and archetypes. You may need to modify the cards for some agencies. U.S. Games Systems, Inc. Stamford CT 06902 Gemstones, bracelets, tribal stones, and geodes: You will need to buy a large quantity of these products but they will last a long time. GeoCentral 1-800-231-6083 or www.geocentralonline.com Oriental Trading Company 1-800-228-2269 or www.orientaltrading.com Trinkets of all kinds, including small bags of trouble dolls. Glow-in-the-dark pebbles: A 1 pound bag contains just over 100 pebbles. Their 1” pebble white, glows blue. They also have blue/blue and green/green. About $20 per pound. You can also use ordinary white pebbles found at your local garden supply store. CORE SYSTEMS   P.O. Box 1545, Comox, BC Canada V9M 8A2 Toll-Free  1.855.777.2673 (CORE) or http://www.coregravel.ca/shop/

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D A N C I N G AT T H E

Bibliography Bettleheim, B. The Uses of Enchantment. New York: Random House. 1976. Courlander, Harold. “Two Friends: How They Parted.” The King’s Drum. New York: Harcourt, Brace, & World, Inc. 1962. Cox, Allison & Albert, David H. The Healing Heart: Families. Canada: New Society Publishers. 2003. ISBN 0-86571-466-5. Cox, Allison & Albert, David H. The Healing Heart: Communities. Canada: New Society Publishers. 2003. ISBN 0-86571-468-1. Elder, John & Wong, Hertha D. Family of Earth & Sky. Boston: Beacon Press. 1994. ISBN 0-8070-8529-4. Estes, Clarissa Pinkola. Women Who Run with the Wolves. New York: Ballantine. 1995. ISBN 0-345-39681-2. Fincher, Suzanne F. Coloring Mandalas. Boston: Shambhala. 2000. ISBN 1-57062-563-2. Fisher, R., Ury, W.L. & Patton, B. Getting to Yes. Penguin Group. 1981. Fontana, D. The Secret Language of Symbols. San Francisco: Cronicle Books. 1993. Forest, Heather. Wisdom Tales From Around the World. Little Rock: August House. 1996. Hamilton & Weiss. Children Tell Stories: Teaching and Using Storytelling in the Classroom. Katonah, New York: Richard C. Owen Publishers. 2005. Herman, Judith. Trauma and Recovery. Perseus Books. 1992. Holt, D. & Mooney, B. Ready-To-Tell Tales. Little Rock: August House. 1994. MacDonald, Margaret Read. Peace Tales. New Haven: Linnet Books. 1992. Martin, Rafe. Rough Face Girl. Paper Star. 1998.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY Mooney, B. & Holt,D. The Storyteller’s Guide. August House. 1996. Riordan, James. The Woman in the Moon. New York: Dial Books for Young Readers. 1962. ISBN 0-8037-0194-2. Simms, Laura. Making Peace. Chicago: Earwig Recordings. Simms, Laura. “Boy Who Hid in the King’s Heart.” Parabola Magazine: Issue on SOUL. Storytelling in the Classroom. Katonah, New York: Richard C. Owen Publishers. 2005. Wolkstein, Diane. The Magic Orange Tree. New York: Schocken Books. 1997. ISBN 0-8052-1077-6. Yolan, Jane. Favorite Folktales from Around the World. New York: Pantheon Books. 1986.

Video: Masks from Many Cultures. Crystal Video. 1-800-255-8629, ISBN 1-56290085-4.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R O S S R O “Crossroads Dancing:” As if often the case in the folk tradition, the author A heard this story told under a different title at the National Storytelling FestiD val many years ago. Additional research was done online and in print, but the S

Story Notations

original title has been lost. This story is the author’s Celtic interpretation of the African folktale. Both Celtic and African culture include the metaphor of the crossroads. A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Crossroads: Stories of Choice and Empowerment. “Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell:” This is a well-known Medieval story, originally found in The Canterbury Tales as the “Wife of Bath’s Tale.” It is also known as the “Loathsome Lady,” and “The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnelle.” However, its origins predate Christianity, its symbolism is uniquely Celtic. A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Crossroads: Stories of Choice and Empowerment. The story is also found in Medieval Tales that Kids Can Read and Tell by Lorna MacDonald Czarnota, August House 2000. “A Moth to the Flame:” This is an original story by Lorna Czarnota. It was written after seeing a moth flying around a light bulb, and wondering why moths instinctively place themselves in danger. The author made the correlation between the moth and abused women who ultimately return to their abusers. A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Crossroads: Stories of Choice and Empowerment. “The Boy Who Thought He Was a Man:” This is the author’s interpretation of “Coyote the Judge,” also called “Senor Coyote.” The author learned this story in the folk traditional, by word of mouth. A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Crossroads: Stories of Choice and Empowerment.

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STORY NOTATIONS “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight:” This well-known Medieval story has its origins in ancient Celtic culture and was learned by the author in the folk tradition. A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Crossroads: Stories of Choice and Empowerment. “Footprints in the Snow:” This is an original story inspired by the author’s niece. A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Crossroads: Stories of Choice and Empowerment. “Little Red Rides with a Hood:” This original jazz/rap written by Lorna MacDonald Czarnota is based on the metaphor of the traditional folktale “Red Riding Hood.” A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Crossroads: Stories of Choice and Empowerment. “Vassalisa:” Sometimes called Vasilisa the Beautiful, the author learned this Russian story in the folk tradition. Her adaptation changes the ending of this traditional story where the protagonist meets and marries the man of her dreams, specifically for use with at-risk youth. The author’s extensive research into the history of storytelling shows that many of these stories are actually made up of several events linked together. A version of this story Vasilisa the Beautiful may be found Favorite Folktales from Around the World by Jane Yolan, Pantheon Books 1986. “The Weeping Lass:” The author learned this story traditionally through another storyteller, Elizabeth Ellis. A version of this story is found as “The Weeping Lass at the Dancin’ Place” in Twelve Black Cats by Sorche NicLeods. A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Dancing in Dark Waters. “The Magic Tapestry:” The author first found this Chinese story in a lovely picture book titled The Weaving of a Dream by Marilee Heyer. A version can also be found in Heather Forest’s, Wisdom Tales From Around the World, August House 1996.

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D A N C I N G AT T H E C R “The Empty Cage:” An original story by Lorna MacDonald Czarnota. WritO ten for a friend to address her loss of control over her teenage children. S S “The Selkie:” There are many selkie stories. They are attributed to both R Scotland, and to Iceland. The author learned this story in the folk tradition. O A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Dancing A D in Dark Waters. S

“Mr. Fox:” This English story is similar to the Russian folktale Bluebeard. The author learned this story in the folk tradition. “Grain of Rice:” Considered by some to be a story from India, but also considered to be from China, this folk tale is perfect for discussions on opportunity and choice. The author learned this story in the folk tradition. “The Youth and His Eagle:” This Zuni tale may be found in Family of Earth & Sky, Elder, John & Wong, Hertha D, Beacon Press 1994. “Mary Culhane and the Deadman:” This Irish story was learned by the author in the folk tradition. The ending was changed specifically for work with at-risk youth. “The Secrets of Heaven and Hell:” This is a Zen tale learned by the author in the folk tradition. It may be found under the title Samauri Story on Laura Simms recording Making Peace. “Monk and the Moon:” This is a Zen tale. Many versions can be found as The Moon Cannot be Stolen or as Giving the Moon in Heather Forest’s Wisdom Tales From Around the World, August House 1996. “Dancing in Dark Waters:” The author first read this Inuit story in Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ballantine 1995. Retold by Lorna Czarnota for at-risk youth, A recording can be found on the author’s compact disk Dancing in Dark Waters.

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STORY NOTATIONS “Tamlin:” A traditional Scottish story learned by author in the folk tradition. A recording of this story can be found on the author’s compact disk Dancing in Dark Waters. “The Stonecutter:” The author learned this Chinese folktale in the folk tradition. You can find this tale in the Crimson Fairy Book by Andrew Lang. “Clam and Bird:” Originally titled “The Snipe and the Mussel,” this story may be found in Peace Tales by Margaret Read MacDonald, Linnet Books 1992. “Wolves in the My Heart:” Cherokee tale. From the folk tradition. “Bundle of Sticks:” The author learned this story in the folk tradition. The story is an Aesop’s Fable. “Pandora’s Box:” This is the author’s retelling of this Greek Myth, modernized for current audiences. “Room with Two Beds:” This is the Author’s retelling of the traditional Irish story “Half a Blanket,” which can be found in Favorite Folktales from Around the World by Jane Yolan, Pantheon Books 1986. “The Two Warriors:” This is an original story written by storyteller Dan Keding. It may be found in The Healing Heart: Communities by Cox, Allison & Albert, David H,New Society Publishers. “Philamondre:” This is a Haitian tale known as “One My Darling” which may be found in The Magic Orange Tree by Diane Wolkstein. “Star Woman’s Basket:” Known as “Black and White Cows,” an adaptation from a South African Bantu tale retold by Laura Simms, originally told by Laurens Van Der Post. It is recorded on Women and Wild Animals, which can now only be purchased from Laura Simms http://www.laurasimms.com/

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Index A A Moth to the Flame 12, 109 About the Author 155 Activities A Moth to the Flame 109 Crossroads Dancing 103 Dancing in Dark Waters 136 Footprints in the Snow 123 Grain of Rice 135 Little Red Rides With a Hood 128 Mary Culhane and the Deadman 136 Mr. Fox 134 Philamondre 137 Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell 105 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight 119 Star Woman’s Basket 138 The Boy Who Thought He Was a Man 116 The Empty Cage 133 The Magic Tapestry 133 The Secrets of Heaven and Hell 136 The Selkie 134 The Two Warriors 137 The Weeping Lass 133 The Youth and His Eagle 135 Unicorn Prayer 127 Appendices 141 Appendix I : Resource Help List 143 Appendix II: Materials Resource List 144

D A N C I N G AT T H E C R O S B S Bibliography 147 R Bundle of Sticks 88 O A C D Clam and Bird 86 S Crossroads Dancing 3, 103

D Dancing in Dark Waters F Footprints in the Snow G Grain of Rice

77, 136 25, 123

62, 135

L Little Red Rides With a Hood 128

30,

M Mary Culhane and the Deadman 70, 136 Monk and the Moon 76 Mr. Fox 57, 134 P Pandora’s Box 90 Philamondre 98, 137 Preface xi R Room with Two Beds 94 S Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell 7, 105 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight 18, 119

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INDEX Star Woman’s Basket 100, 138

The Selkie 54

Stories

The Stonecutter 84

A Moth to the Flame 12

The Two Warriors

Bundle of Sticks

The Weeping Lass 42

88

96

Clam and Bird 86

The Youth and His Eagle 64

Crossroads Dancing 3

Vassalisa

Dancing in Dark Waters 77

Wolves in My Heart 87

37

Footprints in the Snow 25

Story Notations 149

Grain of Rice 62

T Tamlin 79

Little Red Rides With a Hood 30 Mary Culhane and the Deadman 70 Monk and the Moon 76

The Boy Who Thought He Was a Man 16, 116 The Empty Cage 51, 133 The Magic Tapestry

Mr. Fox 57

45, 133

Pandora’s Box 90

The Secrets of Heaven and Hell 75, 136

Philamondre

The Selkie

98

54, 134

Room with Two Beds 94

The Stonecutter 84

Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell 7

The Two Warriors

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight 18

The Weeping Lass 42, 133

Star Woman’s Basket 100 Tamlin

79

The Boy Who Thought He Was a Man 16 The Empty Cage 51 The Magic Tapestry

45

The Secrets of Heaven and Hell 75

96, 137

The Youth and His Eagle 64, 135 U Unicorn Prayer 127 V Vassalisa 37, 132 W Wolves in My Heart 87

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About the Author

L

orna MacDonald Czarnota is an award-winning storyteller and author who has delighted audiences in schools, libraries, festivals and conferences throughout the United States, Canada, and Ireland with traditional and original stories since 1985. Her work features historical presentations, storytelling, writing workshops, and motivational presentations. She specializes in work with at-risk youth, Celtic folklore, and the use of music and song to enhance story. She is the author of Medieval Tales that Kids Can Read and Tell, Legends, Lore and Secrets of Western New York, Wicked Niagara: the Sinister Side of the Niagara Frontier, Breadline Blue and has stories in other anthologies and magazines. Lorna holds a Bachelor in Creative Studies for Young Children, a Masters in Special Education, and certification in Trauma Counseling. She is the founder and executive director of Crossroads Story Center, Inc., a not-forprofit for reaching at-risk youth through story. Lorna began working with at-risk youth in 1994, and continues to run programs in run-away shelters, group homes, treatment centers and other venues. She is a leader in this work within the national and international storytelling community. She has presented at storytelling conferences and festivals throughout the United States. Lorna has also worked with teachers and parents of at-risk youth. In 2004, Lorna presented her work to storytellers in Ireland and worked there with inner-city youth. Her work with at-risk youth has expanded to storytelling with abused women and their children, and communities in disaster. Educators of young children in

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Blacksburg Virginia, brought Lorna to work with the community at large in April 2007, following the shooting on the Virginia Tech campus. Recognized by her community Lorna is the recipient of the 2006 Oracle Award from the National Storytelling Network, the Hopevale Incorporated Volunteer of the Year Award, Storytelling World Award, and was nominated as a Univera, United Way Community Hero. www.crossroadsstorycenter.com www.lornamacdonaldczarnota.com