Future Planning and Improvements

I like the idea of having a planning week instead of review. I agree that they would be a lot more helpful to plan things out than to look back at what we have already done. What was hard for me about getting things done early was not being able to do everything for the week at one time. I’m not sure how you match us up with people to write comments but it would be helpful to have them earlier even if that just means that they open on Sunday the week before they’re due.

I didn’t try the story planning option but it does sound like a good option for people who aren’t sure about what the best story route would be. By the end of reading the story, I usually had a pretty good idea of what I was going to write about. Starting off at the beginning of the semester I think that would have been a great help. On that note… I think that writing off of a story like most of the options we had from this semester would have been easier to start off with than trying to change a super short poem/ story.

I think making the story recording extra credit is a good idea. I wouldn’t personally do it because I am horrible at reading out loud but I think others would like it. I think the audio recordings would be especially helpful for students who commute. It would give them something productive to do in the car.

One of my professors did a lot of screencasts to show us how to navigate websites and teach the online portion of the class that way. It was helpful but a lot of the time they dragged on when he would repeat himself or go at a slower rate than we were accustomed to as millennials. That might have just been him though. I think the step-by-step screencasts would be very helpful and could be offered as extra credit or a part of the beginning of the class (or midway review).

I think that making themed reading units would be a great idea. Maybe if you wanted to try it you could offer both and see if people choose to go that route. I think love stories, tragedies, war, tricksters, life lessons, etc.

Maybe you could make a bunch of themes and then just let people choose which theme they wanted each week so that they had more freedom to explore the topics that they enjoy. This could help people who need inspiration for their projects. They could go to the themes and pick stories from a theme or even use that theme for their project.

READING NOTES: BROTHERS GRIMM (CRANE) - PART B

Photo Credits: Free Stock Photos

 


The Six Swans: I could write in the perspective of the King going through the woods without thinking about the people who were supposed to be with him and then finding himself alone. I could write in the perspective of the little girl who was the only one not turned into a bird.

The Six Swans (cont.) This is such a cool setup. I could change some things to make it seem more realistic and it could be a really cool story. I could write from the perspective of the huntsman who brings the girl back to the king.

The Six Swans (end) I think this would be a col story to write. I am not sure how to change it so that there isn’t any magic in it but I think it probably could be done. I think this story has a really good story line. I could write from the perspective of the girl, the second king or one of the brothers. Maybe they could be slaves or something, hiding their identity so that their step mother wouldn’t kill them. Kind of like in game of thrones.

King Thrushbeard: I like how she had to learn her lesson. It might be a little harsh. I was kind of hoping that the beggar would actually be a really nice guy that she falls in love with and becomes a nice lady herself. Maybe I could write that story.

King Thrushbeard (cont.): This is sad that she was doing so well (even though it was only because she was pretty). It is always the drunk guys that mess everything up. Usually they just spill your drink but knocking over your livelihood wouldn’t be so great either. Wow I guessed it. He was a little harsh but I guess that it worked out and now she is a little less shallow.

The Three Spinsters: Poor girl thrown under the bus by her mother. But I am glad that she was able to get out of it when they married because he didn’t want her to be ugly like her cousins… What a nice guy…

Snow-White: Wow they definitely left that part out in the Disney version of the queen eating snow white’s heart. How creepy! I could write from the perspective of the huntsman.

Snow-White (cont.) Interesting that she killed her using lace and not the apple.

Snow-White (cont. again) And that she lived and let another woman kill her again but by using the brush. Oh now she makes the apple, I see.

Snow-White (end) I am not sure I understand the last part of her dying. Love this story but I am not sure how I would change it.


Bibliography: Household Stories by the Brothers Grimm, translated by Lucy Crane and illustrated by Walter Crane (1886).

READING NOTES: BROTHERS GRIMM (CRANE) - PART A

Photo Credits: Wikipedia Commons


The Fisherman and His Wife: I love the image that this story puts in my head. I could really elaborate on what it looked like to be in the scene on the shore. This is one of my favorite stories with a moral. I think it makes people think a little more about the effects of their actions.

The Fisherman and His Wife (cont.): I could work in the little rhymes that are in the story. I think it would be a cool way to link my story back to the original if I decided to do this story. I wonder if the man was ever happy to be with his wife and vice versa. I feel like nothing is ever good enough for her. She is such a needy woman. I’m sure she would like to be king for the title but none of the work.

The Fisherman and His Wife (cont. again) I think pope may be stretching it a little far. As far as I know, the pope is not supposed to be greedy and thoughtless. I like the contrast of the water and the wishes getting bigger and bigger. He is a very nice husband to continuously doing as she asked. Hopefully she will get in trouble and not him.

The Fisherman and His Wife (end) I like the scene of her tossing and turning all night, thinking of what she wants to be next. I feel bad for the guy because this woman is so stubborn and greedy. Why doesn’t she just make herself happy? I wish he didn’t have to be with her anymore. She will never be content and he will always be.

Aschenputtel: I like the scene of this story. It is dramatic and heart wrenching. I never heard of the tree. I liked how the dad wasn’t there in the movie because he seemed like a nice guy.

Aschenputtel (cont.): It would have been nice if the guy liked her personality a little too… instead of just her beauty and her pretty dresses.

Aschenputtel (end) I like how it isn’t a fairy god mother but her mother’s spirit. Wow. I didn’t know they got their eyes poked out. And that they are missing chunks of their feet.

The Robber Bridegroom: This is a creepy story. I would hope that a father wouldn’t promise his daughter to a cannibal… but you never really know a person I guess.

The Robber Bridegroom (cont.): this is a very dramatic story. Very scary to be in a house of murderers and have to escape the cannibals with the finger of their last kill that fell in your lap. I’m glad she trapped him and made him pay!

 

Bibliography: Household Stories by the Brothers Grimm, translated by Lucy Crane and illustrated by Walter Crane (1886).

STROY: LOST AND FOUND

Photo Credits: Pexels

When I hike, I feel like I am truly myself again. I am able to take a moment for myself and live fully in it. I have the choice to think or to not think.

Standing in the middle of a hilly clearing, I sucked in the fresh air like I was about to dive to the bottom of a lake. I stood there for a moment let the beauty of the view sink into my veins, powering the day’s journey. I took another breath and closed my eyes, relishing the moment. Something cold and wet nudged my hand and I opened my eyes. My dog Wilson looked up at me and then out at the forest. He enjoyed these hikes almost as much as I did and was eager to continue.

“Alright, alright, let’s go.” I said to him, scratching behind his ear. He bounded off down the steep slope, turning occasionally to make sure I was still following.

The ground crunched slightly under my heavy boots. There was a soft breeze that made the forest feel like it was breathing. The trees swayed slightly and creaked in resistance. The small animals clambered up and down the trees scampering about the forest like a group of children playing tag. Wilson would occasionally dart into a bush or behind a fallen tree trunk to chase one if they caught his eye.

Wilson stopped suddenly almost causing me to trip on him and fall over his stiffened mass. Realizing that he sensed something that I couldn’t, I slowly reached for bow and readied it silently with an arrow. Wilson’s growl was low and his hair stood up on his back.

“What is it, bud?” I whispered to him. My eyes were straining to see what it was. I took a step forward and a small movement in the bushes caught my eye. The hem of a muddied white dress with pink embroidered flowers was glowing in the sunlight. It looked familiar, it resembled a pattern on one of my sister’s dresses when they were young. Could it be…? No, I shook my head dismissing the thought.

“Hello?” he called softly, not wanting to scare whoever it was. “It’s alright, I won’t hurt you.” He said this time a little louder. He lowered his bow and slung it back over his shoulder.

Wilson looked up at me as if he was asking for permission. I nodded my head at the bush and he cautiously made his way to the other side of the bush. Laying down on his stomach, he inched towards the tiny figure with his ears back and his tail wagging. I followed my dog and saw that it was a girl. She was older than I expected of someone wearing a dress fit for a child. She must be no more than a few years younger than he was.

Wilson had nudged the arm of the girl with his nose so that he could snuggle closer and scratch him. Her body relaxed slightly and she stroked his soft fur. She froze again when she heard me step closer.

“I won’t hurt you,” I repeated, holding out my empty hands, “I promise.”

Her eyes finally met mine. Her eyes held some fear like that of a small bunny, frozen in terror of being mauled by its predator. They softened slightly when she looked down at Wilson who licked her hand, prompting her to continue scratching his favorite spot.

“His name is Wilson,” I said, dropping down on their level.

“Wilson?” she said, her voice shaky and unsure. His head lolled backwards with his tongue hanging out the side.

The girl giggled at this and then looked shyly back at me.

“I… I don’t have a name.” she said softly, her voice no more than a murmur. “Who are you?” she asked, her voice much steadier than before.

“My name’s Hunter.” I said with a smile trying to hide the confusion I felt. She smiled back awkwardly as if she didn’t remember how to.

A thought came to me suddenly and I asked, “How long have you been out here?”

She looked confused at this and shook her head.

“I don’t know.” She said eyebrows pulled together in thought.

“Would you like to come back to my home with me? Ma’s making a pot pie for supper.” I told her, hoping that she would say yes.

“Pot pie?” she repeated, sounding confused.

I nodded my head and said, “Yes, it is a pie but full of meat and vegetables. It is delicious.”

At my description her stomach growled and she tried to muffle the noise with her arms.

“Alright. I will go with you,” she said, eyes still wary.

***


When we made it back to my parent’s house, the smell of the pot pie filled my nose and made my mouth water with anticipation. I swung the door open and led the girl inside.

“Hi, Ma!” I said, loud enough for her to hear over the noise of the house.

When she turned to great me, her eyes fell on the girl beside me. The bowl she was holding slipped from her hands and shattered on the ground. My dad ran to my mother and then he too saw the girl standing beside me.

“Holy hell,” he whispered.

“Lilly? Is that you, my child?” my mother said softly as a few tears slid down her cheeks.







Author’s Note: This story was originally about a girl who was abducted when she was out for a walk in the forest by some evil creature. It kept her in its cottage far away in the forest. The hunter and his dog chased after the creature and ended up killing it. That was when he found the missing girl. She was in the same clothing she was kidnapped in three years prior. They were torn and too small for her. Although he did not recognize her, and she didn’t remember who she was before she was kidnapped, he took her back to the village and found her parents. Her parents recognized her immediately and rewarded the hunter by offering her as her wife. I kept mostly everything in this story besides the idea that she was kidnapped and I made it so that the hunter was her long lost brother. I made the story in the hunter’s perspective to switch up my usual story where I write from a woman’s perspective. It was a little different trying to write from the perspective of a man but hopefully I didn’t butcher it too badly. I am a dog person so it was fun being able to incorporate a pup into my story. Wilson was the name of my childhood dog. So, if you want to picture the dog as a big goofy yellow lab who is also very protective feel free. Hope you liked the story!

Bibliography: Russian Fairy Tales by W. R. S. Ralston (1887)

READING NOTES: RUSSIAN FAIRY TALES (PART B)

Photo Credits: Wikimedia

The Witch Girl: I could write the story as if the witch new that the man was going to look for her by the loss of her arm. She then would have framed the girl by cutting her arm off. The whole story could be from the perspective of the girl who got her arm cut off. It could go to the point where she is about to be drowned.

The Headless Princess: Interesting that the King would be so willing to accept the claims that his daughter was a witch. This story didn’t seem to give any feelings to the father. His daughter must not have been the greatest daughter I suppose.

The Warlock: That’s one way to choose your favorite daughter-in-law. You weren’t very smart… so I’ll kill you. Also, I would imagine that the sons had some feelings for their wives. Interesting that they still made them go in there. I’m not sure if I could make this one very believable in my story.

The Fox Physician: I don’t know about this lady, but I would be pissed if my husband called me old woman. I’m not sure how I could make this one into a story either. Wow that was sad. Why was he holding it in his teeth? That doesn’t seem very smart. “My old woman is smashed into pieces” made me laugh. Poor thing. What an awful thing for the fox to do.

The Fiddler in Hell: I am curious of how this story was thought up. It is definitely a weird one. I don’t think I would like to write a story about this. I would have a hard time making it sound believable.

The Two Friends: I wonder if the friend knew he was going to make him go three hundred years after drinking with him. It is an interesting idea to have the man come out of the grave and three hundred years had passed. It would be very intense to write a story from his perspective.

The Shroud: That would be a great storyline if I was in the mood to write something scary. IT reminds me of the golden arm campfire story that the dads would tell at camp. If she was so lazy, why did she go steal things?

The Coffin-Lid: I wonder why it is always an aspen stake. This is also good for a scary story.

The Two Corpses: If only they would have shared the man… then they would both be happy. What a weird story. I am not sure what the moral is though…

The Dog and the Corpse: What a good dog, protecting its owner. And the dog knew the guy was a jerk for running away. The dog would probably still love him in real life though because dogs don’t think like that. Why don’t they just kill the man? Obviously it was his fault. Gosh I don’t like this story. It definitely doesn’t make me happy or give any moral to the story other than its okay to kill your dog when he protected you and you deserted him.

The Soldier and the Vampire: Interesting how the word intimate has changed. Oh good idea… Go to the fire with the evil dude.


Bibliography: Russian Fairy Tales by W. R. S. Ralston (1887).

READING NOTES: RUSSIAN FOLKTALES (PART A)

Photo Credits: Photo

The Dead Mother: Although it is sad… I like this story line with the father who doesn’t know how to take care of the baby when its mother died. I could write in the perspective of the mother, the father or the old lady he hired to take care of the baby. Interesting that someone was sneaking in at night and taking care of the baby. So sad that the baby died.

The Treasure: Sad that no one would help the old man. Even the pope! All because he didn’t have the money. Funny how people will do anything for money. That is the problem with having a human posing to be holy and of God. I like how he got stuck as a goat and that he was punished for stealing and deceiving.

The Bad Wife: She just seems like she is not a nice lady. It would be interesting to do the story from either the perspective of the wife or the perspective of the husband. I could just write about a healer and how they went house to house to help heal people.

The Three Copecks: The orphan worked so hard for years to make only enough to buy a kitten. Sad that this man took advantage of him. I could write in the perspective of the orphan or the man who tried to steal from him.

The Miser: I could write this story in the perspective of the stingy man who faked his death or I could write from the perspective of the poor man.

The Water Snake: I like this story line but I am not sure how I would change it into something that is realistic. It is sad that the mother killer her husband and the father to her children. I wonder why she did that after she said she was so happy.

Friday: I am not sure how I would change this into a story.

Wednesday: This is an interesting story. I could write from the perspective of the lady who asked Wednesday to wake her up.

The Leshy: I like this story. It has a cool storyline I think it would make for a good story. I could write in the perspective of the hunter with his dog who found the girl who was stolen. I think this would be a good story for me to write.

Dnieper, Volga, and Dvina: Interesting that this was how rapids were created. I’m not sure if I want to use this story though.

Emilian the Fool: I am not really sure that I understand this story. I don’t think I could write a good story about this.






Bibliography:  Russian Fairy Tales by W. R. S. Ralston (1887).

STORY: THE WOODS

Photo Credits: Pixbay

The air was still. My body swayed back and forth rhythmically as I rode my horse to the edge of the clearing. I was with three others but the forest in front of us looked as though it was a depraved creature that was lurking in the mist. The sun had just fallen over the tree tops when we finished our supper not long before. There was no stopping though. We had to continue through the night.

We stopped at the edge of the forest, looking in at the ominous glow. When my companions looked at me for reassurance, I nodded looking forward, not wanting to see my face if my resolve cracked. I was scared, just as they were. There was a feeling that held strong on my heart not to go on now, to wait until first light. My heart was beating faster and faster as we entered the forest at a slow crawl. We were reluctant to be finally swallowed by its depth.

We rode slowly, dodging low branches and fallen trees. Suddenly there was noise right above us. Our heads all snapped up when a group of birds took off from a tree above. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Luckily, our horses stayed calm through the small commotion. We continued through the forest, but this time we picked up some speed. Still, we moved slower than a trot, ears straining to hear something that isn’t there.

“Was that our hoofs or something else?” I thought to myself.

I halted the group, putting my hand up to signal them. They stopped and the sound of hooves continued. The horses, now hearing the sound, started to show their protest. I was about to heed the beast’s advice when a huge white creature jumped out on the path before us. It was gone the other way within an instant. I looked after the blur of white and saw that it was not a fowl beast. It was a white horse with a woman on it to match. She had silver hair that reflected light even in the gloom of the forest. It wasn’t her hair that made me look twice though. It was the look of absolute terror that distorted her face.

“What was she running from? Why was she so afraid?” I asked myself. Soon after the answer appeared before me. Another blur shot past us. If I were to have blinked, I wouldn’t have seen it. But I did not blink. This time there was a burly man on a great black stallion. The man held a rage that blurred us from his vision. It seemed that all he could see or think about was catching that woman.

Carried by instinct, I kicked my horse hard in its sides to chase the two fleeing riders. What was I going to do once I caught up to them? I had no idea. All I knew was that she needed help and that I needed to give it to her.

I took off into the forest followed by my two companions. They were likeminded and spurred to action when they realized what they had just seen. The three of us race through the forest, unscathed by the low branches and unfazed by the downed trees. I heeled my horse to encourage it to move faster.

“They were getting away!” I shouted. 

 

***

“Logan … Logan! Dude, wake up! Quit kicking me man.” an irritated voice said from behind me.

I opened my eyes wearily, confused as to where I was. My brain finally cleared and I realized I was at camp. We rode horses the day before. That must have been the reason for that strange dream. I rolled over to get more comfortable on the hard ground. I pulled my sleeping bag up over my head and fell back to sleep.

Author’s Note: 
This story was very interesting and had a lot of different elements and people woven into it. It was essentially about a woman, princess, knight, you name it. She reminded me very much of Breanne (spelling?) from Game of Thrones. She is told (by a magic mirror) what her future is/ who her husband is. She was told he was this grand warrior and knight who never stayed in one place for too long. There is a scene in the beginning of the story that is much like the one I wrote but the character in mine is a boy and the main character doesn’t go after the woman but the other two do. I hope you liked my little twist ending! Thanks for reading.



Bibliography: Stories from the Faerie Queene by Mary Macleod

READING NOTES: FAERIE QUEEN (PART B)

Photo Credits: Pexels

Reading B:

The Enchanted Chamber
It seems like this guy is some sort of magician. I wonder what his purpose is. I could write about his magic tricks in the form of a poem. I could make this part a dream so that magic makes sense. I really like the idea of writing about reality and then having a dream put in there too. It reminds me of the Christmas movie where they all come out of her skirt.

 A Wicked Enchanter
This part is so dramatic. I think writing from the perspective of the woman who was his prisoner. I think I could make it very dramatic and have a lot of detail. It would interesting to tell the story of why the two left them behind. 

Strange Meetings
This also reminds me of Mulan a little bit because she pretends to be a man and ends up falling in love. I think it’s a weird thing that they fell in love but this story is different because she was in love and then sought him out by becoming a knight. Interesting that he would listen to what his enemies had to say and believe them so quickly. 

The Golden Girdle
I think it is interesting that women were allowed to fight and that they were not looked down upon for wanting to fight. I don’t think I like this part enough to write a story on it.

The False Florimell
I could write from the perspective of the girl who won the contest. I like how she didn’t know it was him and fought him. 

The House of Care
I like the descriptions that would go with the little cottage on the side of the hill with the blacksmith working hard by himself. 

Two Knights
I like this part. I could write from the perspective of Brit. It would be a very dramatic scene.

How Britomart Ended her Quest
I think this would be a cool part to write about. Seeing the person you love after trying to search for them for such a long time. Also realizing that you almost killed them would be intense.




Bibliography: Stories from the Faerie Queene by Mary Macleod

READING NOTES: FAERIE QUEEN (PART A)

Photo Credits: Pexels

Reading A:

Sir Guyon
I could write about how she felt when she looked into the mirror and saw this knight. Then it could go into detail of her readying for her journey. Interesting that fighting was not in malice but to test each other’s skills in combat. Almost like practice. It would be weird going after every knight you saw because you hated them all. 

How Britomart Fought with Six Knights
I could focus on the moments leading up to the attack in the woods. It would be very detailed about the forest they were walking into and the moment that something rushed by them in front of them. She reminds me of the knight Brianna in the TV show Game of Thrones. I could write about the knight being attacked from her perspective. I could write from the perspective of the woman riding the horse away from the guy who is trying to kill her.

The Magic Mirror
I could write about their little fight. I could write like a diary of how she reacted to the mirror. It could be a flashback of when she saw him in the mirror.

The Cave of the Magician Merlin
I could write in the perspective of the girl when she is having these nightmares and not able to enjoy anything that she used to love to do. She could be talking to her nurse. I like when she said it was foolish to love a shadow. I could write in the perspective of the nurse.

Britomart’s Quest
I could write of how sad her dad was when she left.

The Castle of the Churl Malbecco
I could write about when she took her armor off and showed all of the other knights that she was a woman and not a man. It is interesting that she is so beautiful but still looks enough like a man to pass. Also I wonder if she has a low voice or something.

How Britomart Walked through Fire
I could write in the perspective of the sad knight.




Bibliography: Stories from the Faerie Queene by Mary Macleod

STORY: A CHANCE ENCOUNTER

Photo Credits: Pexels

I walked down to the river to bathe before the sun had breached the horizon. The air was deathly still and held a chill that slipped through the cloak wrapped around my shoulders. I pulled it tighter around me. The slanted earth slipped slightly under my feet as I made my way closer to the edge of the river bank. The river was shielded by low hanging trees, their branches looked as if they were stretching to touch the peaceful flow of the river.

I kicked off my slippers and stirred the crystal clear water with my toes. I was pleased when it was warmer than I had expected. I let the cloak slip off my shoulders and draped it over a tree branch. I undressed down to my slip and wadded knee deep into the water. The stones were smooth on my bare feet. I bathed slowly, enjoying the sunrise and the sounds of the forest waking. 

When the sun peaked over the trees, I finally retreated to the shore and dressed. I walked slowly back to the castle in efforts to extend the peace of the morning. I stopped occasionally to pick a wildflower and weave it into my still-damp hair. The castle was surrounded by sleeping soldiers, tired from their travels and battles. When I passed through their camps, I was assaulted with the smell of unbathed men and horses—a stark contrast to the fresh scent of dew in the forest. I made my way through the hoards of groggy men, awoken by the bright morning sun and the bustle of early risers.

The smell of bread baking filled my nose as I passed the bakery. I breathed in deeply, relieved to be rid of the stench of the soldiers. My stomach growled and I placed a hand over it in a pointless effort to quiet the grumbling. I made my way to the kitchens. I was in no mood to deal with the scolding my father would give me for going down to the river.

“It is not suitable for a grown woman to bathe in the river. No daughter of mine will be so indecent to do so.” he would say, puffing out his chest. “You will bathe with the water your maids bring you like the rest of us.”

Most of the time I did as he said. Today was different. There were noble men and kings here and I was not going to smell like stale water and lye soap.

I swung the kitchen door open and reveled in the warmth that filled the room. Luckily, they hadn’t brought the food out to the dining hall yet. I was ravenous so I filled my plate with as much as I could and sat at the small table that the maids and stable hands eat at. I scarfed down every crumb. 

Thoroughly stuffed, I left the kitchen meaning to find my father now that my hair had dried. I turned the corner, unwinding a flower from my hair and knocked straight into a man I had never seen before. I stumbled backwards and he grasped my arm to steady me.

“Oh! Please excuse me.” I shook my head gently and blinked hard trying to make sure I wasn’t imagining the shockingly handsome man standing in front of me.

“The fault is mine, milady.” he said, staring passionately into my eyes.

When I looked down at my arm where he was still holding me, he let go and cleared his throat nervously.

“My name is Arthur and you are?” he asked politely.

“Guinevere!” My father’s voice boomed through the stone hallway. I grimaced, pulling the last flower from my hair as I turned to his voice.

“I see you have met King Arthur. Were your accommodations to your liking?” my father asked Arthur.

“Oh, yes. Although, it seems I am lost. Would either of you mind showing me to the dining hall?” he asked, glancing in my direction.

I opened my mouth to offer just as my father slapped Arthur on the back and said, “Why of course! I was headed that way myself.”

I stood there watching them make their way down the hall, Arthur turning his head to look back at me every few feet. I smiled softly back at him, reveling in the feeling of his longing gaze. When they turned the corner, I walked slowly back to my quarters feeling light as a feather.

Author’s Note:

I took what I read from this story and made what was only a sentence or two into a story of their meeting. I was confused as to where they met but after reading it over again I realized that it was in a castle. I started writing thinking that they were staying in campgrounds but it worked out to still work with the story when they were staying in a castle. In the original story, Arthur was fighting with Guinevere’s father and other kings who were their allies. After they won, they were celebrating and that was where the two saw each other for the first time. I was thinking about waiting until they were celebrating to have them see each other but I just had it happen before because I have no idea what princesses do in their spare time or how they get ready for parties. I think that helps make her seem like a normal person that people can better relate to. I hope you liked it!

Bibliography: King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1902)

READING NOTES: KING ARTHUR: TALES OF THE ROUND TABLE (PART B)

Photo Credits: Flickr

Reading Notes:


The Adventure of Sir Galahad
I could write in the perspective of the squire who was with the knight who was injured. I could write in the perspective of the maidens from the castle or I could write in the perspective of the Duke’s daughter. I could make it sappy and have them fall in love. Thinking about my storybook, I could write about Guinevere.

How Sir Lancelot Saw a Vision
Weird that this super holy knight was able to see and be healed by the Holy Graal and then he stole from the knight who was laying there. I thought stealing was a sin?

The Adventure of Sir Percivale
I could write about how he befriended the lion.

Sir Lancelot and the 500 Knights
I feel bad for Sir Lancelot. I know I’ve heard the name before and you would think that it would be good things that he had done. He just couldn’t do anything right!

Sir Gawaine and the Hermit
I wish they could tell each other this so that they could stop trying to find it. Why do they need to find it anyway? It isn’t something that they need.

The Adventure of Sir Bors
I could write about how he almost killed his brother.

Sir Galahad and the Mysterious Ship
I wonder if she was truly a “gentlewoman” or if she was trying to tempt him. I could write the story in her perspective. I like that she was his brother. Interesting that they sent her off with a letter in her hand.

Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad
I like the idea of all of these dreams. I could work that into my story.

How Sir Galahad Found the Graal
I wonder why they didn’t stay as knights to King Arthur.

The End of Arthur
I like the descriptions with this one. I think this part would be interesting to write a story about. I could write it from Guenevere’s perspective.



Bibliography:  King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1902)

READING NOTES: KING ARTHUR: TALES OF THE ROUND TABLE (PART A)

Photo Credits: Pixabay 

Reading Notes (Part A):

The Drawing of the Sword
Okay … I had no idea the TV show Merlin was based off of these stories! My brother and I would watch them all the time and bonded over it. I’m not sure if I could come relatively close to topping that retelling of the story.

 The Questing Beast
I wonder if he has a sister named Morgana in this story. Interesting… In Merlin, Guenevere is a common girl and not a princess. I like how he changes from a man to a boy and back kind of like what he does in Merlin. That was always hilarious the way he talked as the old man. I don’t think I would want to know my death. It would freak me out.

The Sword Excalibur
I love the idea of healers. I would love to know the uses for different plants. I could write about the lady of the lake. I could write in the perspective of Guenevere. I really enjoyed their love story in the TV show so I could work off of that in some ways. Whenever someone says coronation I always think of the movie Frozen. I could write from the perspective of Tor.

The Passing of Merlin
I like the idea of Merlin falling in love with a damsel of the lake. If there is more about her or why she's evil I could write about her. 

How Morgan le Fay Tried to Kill King Arthur
I could write in the perspective of Morgan le Fay. Wow she is super evil and just as evil as the TV show.

The Quest of the Holy Graal
The King’s Pilgrimage
 I could write from the perspective of Gwain, the youth that accompanied King Arthur on his trip.

The Coming of the Holy Graal
I could write the story from the perspective of the king being so happy and then so sad about seeing the Holy Graal. 


Bibliography:  King Arthur: Tales of the Round Table by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H. J. Ford (1902)

STORY: MAN OF THE HOUSE

Photo Credits: Flickr

My husband was a man of honor. His presence demanded respect and his actions showed that he deserved it. When my father gave me to him for marriage, I was happy to be with such a man. My father was almost too old to hunt any longer. He married me to him so that we could all survive the winter months. When we needed meat, my husband ventured out into the woods to hunt. He would always, without fail, bring back more than we could eat in a week. He was skillful at what he did and enjoyed it very much. He was the greatest provider for me and my parents.

It was some time ago that he started to change. He would no longer bring home extra game for my poor parents. Many nights, they have gone hungry because of it. I tried to bring scraps and small pieces of meat too them when I could, but it was never enough. They were starving and would soon die. When I tried to tell my husband this, he would not listen to my reasoning. He discounts my logic because I am a woman.

“You think you know what it is like to hunt and to provide?” He would say, jabbing a finger in my face. “Ha! You are a silly woman without sense. These people have nothing, are nothing. They should die for their laziness and stupidity.” He lectured like this any time that I suggested giving scraps of meat to my starving parents. He would hear nothing of it.



***



I woke up suddenly, plagued by the same nightmare I have almost every night. In the dream, I walk into my parent’s lodge. Smoke hangs in the air like fog, blurring my vision. I walk a few paces, squinting to see. I trip suddenly and fall to the floor. I look back at what I tripped on to be frozen with fear. It was a body that I tripped on. Crawling on all fours, I inch closer to the hazy outline. As I get closer I realize, it isn’t just one body, but two. I cry out when I see that the bodies are those of my parents. Their bodies pale and lifeless on the cold ground. Their cheeks hollow from starvation. Hand in hand, they embraced death together.

Tears streamed down my cheeks from the empty feeling in my chest. I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t save them. My heart ached for the loss I knew was coming. 

Breathing deeply, I tried to relieve myself of some of the sadness. There was work to be done. My husband was gone hunting and would not be back for another night. I went out back to start tanning the cow skins my husband brought me before he left. I was lost in my work for what could have been minutes or hours, I could not tell. But when I looked up, there was a strange man staring at me, not twenty paces from where I sat.

“Who are you and why are you staring at me?” I said, loud enough for him to hear. He looked at me and slowly rose. He did not answer at first. He approached me with cation, as if not to startle me or scare me off.

When he was less than two steps away, he finally spoke. “I am a visitor. I have traveled a long way and I am tired.” Close as he was, I could tell by his eyes that he was not lying. He must have not slept in days. “If you would be so kind as to let me stay the night, I will be eternally in your debt.” He bowed his head in respect.

“Of course you may stay. My husband is gone hunting but will return tomorrow.” I said, knowing that I would be punished for letting a strange man stay the night. I had a feeling about this man. Maybe he could help me save my parents.

The time came and my husband arrived home with the meat from his hunt.

“Who are you? Why are you in my lodge?” My husband roared, his face bright red.

The visitor stood very fast and stared at my husband’s with a force you could almost feel.

“I am a visitor. Your wife was so gracious as to offer me a place to rest for the night. I have come very—“

“You think a woman has the authority to allow you to stay in my house?” He said, body vibrating in anger. He then turned to me and raised a hand to hit me.

“Touch her and I will kill you.” The stranger’s voice was calm and quiet. My husband lowered his hand an inch but did not let it fall completely.

“Ha! You will not tell me what I can or cannot do to my own wife!” He raised his hand again and brought it down hard on the side of my face. The sound rattled in my ears and my cheek stung as I fell to the floor from the blow. I blinked fast trying to clear my eyes of tears. I heard something cut through the air like butter and hit its target. My eyes cleared enough to see my husband fall to the ground, arrow through his heart. I knew at once that my husband was dead.

“I could not stand by while he laid hands on you. I was indebted to you, now even more so for I have killed your husband. I will protect you and provide for you and your family if you will let me.” He said with an air of solidity. His voice was soothing and his words even more so. I could not respond, I was sobbing from the relief that my parents would live and the grief from the death of the person my husband used to be. Instead I nodded and let him hold me as I cried.

 
Author's Note:

In the original story, there were three sisters who were married to the guy. Only one of them, the youngest, would bring their parents meat. The man used the dad to scare the buffalo so he could shoot it. Even though the dad would help hunt, he would not give the dad any meat. One day they find a baby and use magic so that it grew up into a man. He then kills the husband and continues on in other stories to kill other evil things. I changed it so that there was only one wife and the man who kills the husband is a stranger. I didn’t want to bring magic into the picture so that the story seemed more realistic. This story was hard to end but I had to end but I feel it gives the reader more choice over what comes next. I hope you enjoyed reading it!

Bibliography: Blackfeet Indian Stories by George Bird Grinnell (1915).

READING NOTES: BLACKFEET INDIAN STORIES (PART B)

Photo Credits: Wikipedia

Reading Notes Part B:

The Smart Woman Chief: Interesting how men and women started out apart and that women were made first. This guy was not very nice or smart. Obviously he only wanted her when she looked nice. I wonder why she chose a pine tree to turn him into.

Bobcat and Birch Tree: Birch trees always reminds me of camp. Sometimes the way these stories say animals came to look the way they do is pretty demented. Do they have an explanation for everything? Also it is strange that it is a man who makes things look a certain way and not a god or spirit.

The Red-Eyed Duck: I love how a lot of these stories has something about a song in them. The old man likes to trick animals who are being nice to them and then kill them to eat. He is not a very nice old man. I guess the coyote got him back though.

Kut-O-Yis, The Blood Boy: I’m glad my dad doesn’t see me as a means getting something for my marriage. I would smack him now. Also, sharing a toy with my sisters is one things…but hell no. I would not share my husband. I feel like Native Americans were always respectful and would help their elders. This is weird to me. Weird way to find a baby. I could write from the perspective of the youngest daughter.

Kut-O-Yis, The Blood Boy (cont.): What is up with these mean leaders who do not feed their people? This dude is like the liberator of hungry people.

Kut-O-Yis, The Blood Boy (cont.): So, a son-in-law, a bear and a snake. Why do people kill for them? This dude is just looking for trouble. He can’t just hang out and rest.

Kut-O-Yis, The Blood Boy (cont.): I wonder how the wind guy killed everyone. Maybe like a dementor.

Kut-O-Yis, The Blood Boy (end): “avoid her” that was funny. He is just an adrenaline junkie. I wonder if he killed the little girl who helped him live again.

 

Bibliography: Blackfeet Indian Stories by George Bird Grinnell (1915).