Rumpelstiltskin
by the brothers Grimm
adapted and illustrated by Alessandro Cima



Once upon a time there was a poor woodcutter who had a beautiful daughter. The woodcutter was very proud of her.

One day he boasted to the king, "My daughter can spin straw into gold."

"If your daughter can do this," said the king, "bring her to me and I shall see."

So the woodcutter went home and told his daughter to wear her most lovely dress and come before the king.



The king took the girl to a room in his castle that was filled with straw. As he showed her the spinning wheel in the corner he said, "Spin this straw into gold by sunrise or you shall die."

The woodcutter's daughter sat on the stool and began to cry.
Suddenly, the door creaked open and a strange little man appeared.

"What will you give me to spin this straw into gold?" asked the little man.

"I'll gladly give you my necklace."

"Good," he said taking the necklace.

The little man set to work and by sunrise the room was filled with gold.
When the king saw the gold he became greedy. He got more straw.

"By sunrise all this shall be gold."

Once more the woodcutter's daughter began to cry. In a moment the door opened and in came the strange little fellow.

"What will you give me this time?" he asked.

"I'll gladly give you my ring," said the girl.

"Good," said the little man as he sat down to spin the straw.

By sunrise all the straw was gold. Once more the king was pleased. He got even more straw.

"Spin this straw into gold and in the morning I shall marry you and make you my queen."

When the king went away the little fellow returned.

"What will you give me this time?" he asked.

"I've nothing left to give," replied the woodcutter's daughter.

"Then you shall give me your first child when you are queen."

She promised the little man her first child.

By sunrise the straw was gold and the king married the woodcutter's daughter.

The happy queen had a baby boy and forgot all about her promise.
One day the little man came to take the queen's baby boy.
The queen begged to keep her child.
The little man said, "You have three days to guess my name. If you can't, I shall take your baby boy."

All night the queen thought of every name. In the morning when the little man came she tried all of them. At each one the little man said, "No. It is not I."



On the second day she tried even more names.

"No. It is not I," said the little man.

That night one of the queen's messengers came to her to tell of a strange sight indeed. While riding through the forest he had seen a fire. Around the fire danced an odd fellow who sang a song.

This was what he sang:
"Today I bake, tomorrow I brew,
Then, dear prince, I come for you.
None can guess, none can claim
That Rumpelstiltskin is my name."



That night the little man came calling.

"What is my name?" he asked, jumping up and down.

"It's Robin," answered the queen.

"It is not!"

"It's Jack," said the queen.

"It is not!"

"Then Rumpelstiltskin is your name."

At this the little fellow flew into a rage.

"Curses!", he shrieked, and stamped his feet so hard that he fell through the floor and disappeared forever.

"Rumpelstiltskin"
Illustrations Copyright © 1995 by Alessandro Cima
All Rights Reserved.

Once upon a time, a beautiful princess was kidnapped by a dragon.

The dragon was a fearsome one, and the princess was frightened.

The dragon threw her into a dark cave, and dared any bold adventurer to save her.

Then one day, a knight in shining armour came riding on a dashing white horse.

The knight fought the dragon, and the battle was the stuff of legends.

The knight finally slew the dragon, and rescued the princess from that dark, lonely cave.

"You're my hero!" She cried as she rode off on his white horse.

The knight said nothing, and rode on with stunning air of nobility and chivalry.

She had fallen wildly in love with him.

He brought her to his castle, and she made a tall tower with a great view her home.

They lived happily ever after.

Or so you thought.

The knight went away after that.

Probably slaying other dragons, and saving other princesses, she thought.

The knight came back, and went away.

The knight returned, then left once more.

This continued for many years, and the beautiful princess grew bored.

She longed for his touch once more.

So she locked herself into her tall tower, and turned her refuge into a cage.

She then made her own dark, lonely cave, high up in the tower.

"Maybe he will save me again," she thought.

Just like before.

She waited and waited.

She got more and more desperate.

"My love will come save me!" She cried.

She took chalk, and drew large pictures of horrifying monsters and dragons all over her walls.

"Save me, oh save me, my love!"

She screamed, "Oh, the terror!"

And when she ran out of chalk, she cut herself, and used blood to continue drawing.

This continued for a long time, during which the knight never returned.

She finally ran out of wall space.

She screamed out the window for her one true love.

She made herself a necklace with her bedsheets, and threw herself off the ledge.

The knight returned, with a beautiful princess in tow.

"Who is that hanging over the wall?" She asked the knight, puzzled.

The knight said nothing, and rode on with stunning air of nobility and chivalry.

She had fallen wildly in love with him...

by Carol Moore





It was a day like the day before and the day after. The wind wrapped itself around the sod cabin in gusting moans as the pioneer family within carried out their tasks pretending not to hear. They heard the wind, however. It had been their constant companion on the open plains since their journey from Philadelphia two years before in the spring of 1865. Following the covered wagon train of ten, the wind had lifted the drab landscape into billows of dust falling on everyone and everything until there seemed but one color and one sound.



Now Rachel sat on the bed hand-stitching a quilt while her mother hunched over a sewing machine across the room rocking her feet backwards and forwards on a foot treadle that turned the shaft that moved the needle. The thumping counter pointed the wind outside. Laughter and giggling erupted from Rachel's younger brother and sister playing jacks on the floor and it brought a smile to their sister's face, but when she glanced back at their mother she stopped smiling.

Rachel felt that her parents worked too hard. They rarely had fun or relaxation like they had enjoyed in Philadelphia. Now her father was always in the fields. Her mother prepared meals on a wood-stoked stove, did the laundry on a washboard, baked flatbread and sewed clothes to trade for goods in town. Rachel remembered her mother singing and telling stories at one time but that was before she had begun complaining about the wind and the dirt and the mud. Eventually she had stopped complaining, but she had stopped singing, too.

The door swung open and it was Rachel's father. Entering in a puff of dust, he coughed and wiped his forehead. "Mighty hot day out there."

"Well, I've got ale for you and flatbread too," replied his wife. She rose from the sewing machine and began setting the table as her husband eased himself into a chair.

"I know. I could smell it from outside. Smelled so good I came in early. What else have you all been up to while I was clearing rows with Molly and Bell?"

"Rachel's done with her quilt."

"Oh?" Rachel's father turned to look as his older daughter proudly showed off her masterpiece. It was a cheerful blooming of color with stitches outlining the squares.

"That's a mighty fine piece of work." He nodded. "How 'bout us going into town this Saturday. You can show off your quilt, your mother can take her flatbread, and I've got a bushel of onions ready."

The young children whooped excitedly and Michael, the boy, began dancing around the room, lifting his knees and clapping. There was reason for jubilation. The 20-mile trip to town in the buckboard was a once-a-month affair to which everyone in the family looked forward.

The town of Wausa, Nebraska was not unlike other little towns that had sprung up to welcome the pioneers. It was a mix of old and new buildings with wood plank sidewalks and a wide main street of dirt to accommodate trains of oxen. In one of the newer buildings was the general store. Guarding the door was a wooden Indian and next to it hung a bird cage. The family stopped for a moment to look at the yellow bird inside.

When they stepped into the store it was a universe all its own. There was the scent of wood and soap and spice. The walls were lined with racks of crates and mason jars, and along the aisles were bushel barrels of potatoes and apples. In the back neatly propped against the wall were bolts of fabric. While her brother and sister explored the store and her parents spoke with the grocer about their bread and onions, Rachel wandered back outside to look at the bird.



So bright a yellow it was a miniature piece of the sun in that dusty place. It hopped from perch to perch rarely standing still and as it hopped it kept its eyes on Rachel. Suddenly a shadow passed over the girl and startled, she looked up to see a Sioux Indian brave. Her heart beat faster. Indians sometimes came to town to barter although it was discouraged by the shopkeepers. Such a history of warfare existed between Indians and white settlers that no one felt safe. But this Indian was as fascinated by the bird as Rachel. He stared intently and then said something she couldn't understand. Seeing her puzzled face he repeated in English, "It listens to the wind."

Before Rachel could think about what he had said, the Indian turned and walked away. Her parents appeared a moment later, having seen him through the window.

"Are you all right?" asked her father.

Rachel nodded. "He was just looking at the canary."

At that moment the little bird lifted its head, swelled its chest, and sang out a joyous trill. Rachel saw her mother's face light up with delight.

Rachel traded her quilt for the canary and never regretted it because the little bird entertained them endlessly. Sir Gallant, they called him because he did battle with the wind. The louder the wind the more loudly he sang, competition so fierce that sometimes everyone burst out laughing. Sir Gallant lifted their spirits turning dust days back into sunshine days.

Rachel thought about what the Indian had said. She'd heard the wind but unlike the canary she'd never listened to it. Now when she tried she could hear music in the moaning. Of course the music was faint and hidden in the background and she needed her imagination, but it was there if she truly listened. She began humming the sounds she heard. "That's a pretty tune" her mother commented one day, "what song is that?" Rachel didn't reply, unsure how to explain, and her mother didn't press the question. Soon she, too, began humming.

Occasionally bachelor cowpokes stopped by the cabin to buy flatbread or to have their clothes mended. They were always welcomed, not for the money in their pocket but for their company. With no neighbors for twenty miles, it was lonely on the plains. The family and guests traded news, shared a meal, and were serenaded by Sir Gallant who was often the center of conversation.

One afternoon the younger daughter Mary noticed the canary sitting motionless on his perch. "Is Sir Gallant sick?" she asked in alarm.

"No. It's just a dark day outside," her mother reassured her. "It'll be raining soon and he probably doesn't feel like singing."

The younger children accepted this explanation but not Rachel. She knew that while Sir Gallant stopped singing from time to time, he had always hopped about his cage. She went to the door and looked outside. It was deathly quiet, no wind or sounds of birds or prairie dogs. She saw the outline of her father with the two oxen in the north field and at the same time she saw black thunderclouds stacked high into the sky. There was a heaviness to the air and a prickly feeling.

The Indian's words echoed in her mind. "It listens to the wind."

Rachel thought about Sir Gallant's odd behavior and the angry thunderclouds and how strange it felt. Straining to hear, she caught a faint rumbling and it was the sound of thunder.

Rachel thought about Sir Gallant's odd behavior and the angry thunderclouds and how strange it felt. Straining to hear, she caught a faint rumbling and it was the sound of thunder.

Suddenly Rachel knew. She absolutely knew they were in danger. "Mom," she shouted. "It's a tornado!"

Immediately Mary and Michael began screaming as their mother gathered them up and, along with Sir Gallant, rushed outside. The safest place was the root cellar at the side of the house. Throwing open the cellar doors, the mother yelled to Rachel to warn her father.

Rachel took off running across the field shouting and waving her arms, but not until she was halfway across did she get his attention.

"What's wrong?" he yelled.

It was another moment before she reached him. "Tornado."

His eyes searched the horizon. "I don't see anything, but I can bring in Molly and Bell anyway. I'll come back to the house."

"No! There's no time. Listen!" Rachel was close to hysterical and because she never lied or played tricks, he did as she asked. Finally able to hear the rumbling he jumped to action. Releasing the yoke from the harnesses on the oxen he turned them free and then grabbed Rachel's arm and they began to run. By the time they reached the sod cabin, the tornado was visible, rain drenched their bodies and a thunderous roaring pounded the air.



The tornado lasted only minutes although it felt like hours. When the family emerged from their shelter they were relieved to find their sod cabin intact. Fortunately the oxen, too, had escaped although the scarred earth proved the north field had been in the center of the tornado's path. The loss of crops would make things more difficult, but they felt blessed to be alive. They also felt divine intervention had come in the form of a little yellow bird.



The woman stood in the door of the attic and sighed. Gray and dusty in the half light, the room was filled with old furniture, boxes and a thousand forgotten memories. She had inherited its contents from her grandmother and now faced the chore of deciding the fate of each piece. Attracted to an old sewing machine, so old that it had a foot treadle, she opened the top drawer. Amidst the buttons and needles and scissors was a tiny bundle of lace neatly tied with ribbon. Curious she picked it up and unwrapped it. To her surprise she found she was unfolding the burial cloth of a canary, its body long ago dried up but carefully preserved. Holding it in her right hand she stared, perplexed, and quite unconsciously put her left hand over her heart.

End.

Written and Illustrated by Teresa Ng
Based on an Ancient Chinese Tale by Po Chung-ling

Once there was an elderly widow, Chen Ma, who lived with her only son inside a forest in the Shanxi Province. Her son was one of the tiger hunters licensed by the local magistrate, following the same profession of his father and grandfather before him. His share of the profits from the sale of tiger skins, meat and bones was sufficient to keep the small mud hut well provisioned for himself and his old mother.

All was well until a particularly bitter winter. During a snowstorm, Chen Ma's son was separated from his fellow hunters and became food for a hungry tigress.

After her initial shock and grief subsided, Chen Ma took stock of her own utterly desperate situation -- an old woman left all alone. She went and implored the magistrate to provide her with compensation for the loss of her son, who was her only source of support. The magistrate decreed that henceforth, she would have a small share of profits from the kill of each tiger by the hunters. Needless to say, his decision was not taken well by the hunters, who had plenty of mouths of their own to feed -- both old and young.



So, when the hunters succeeded in killing the tigress that ate Chen Ma's son, they decided not to give her a share of the profits. Instead, they brought her the tigress' newborn cub. He was a small quivery ball of golden fur with wobbly legs and toothless gums. The rope they tied around his neck was so tight that it was practically choking him. Instantly, Chen Ma's heart went out to this helpless creature, whose jade-green eyes were glistening with tears.

After the hunters left, the tiger cub wobbled to where Chen Ma sat and lay at her feet. She bent down to rub his ears and he licked her shoes with his soft tongue.

The elderly widow looked at the tiger baby and sighed. "They told me to butcher you, to salt and smoke your flesh for my meat supply. Your skin would make warm boots for my feet; your bones are good for making Tiger Bone Wine to ease the pain in my joints. But oh, how can I bear to kill you? You are so young and vital, while I am so old and frail."



And so, Chen Ma untied the rope from the little tiger's neck and fed him a paste of cooked roots with her fingers. Her son had a good supply of grains and roots in the attached shed and she planned to stretch the food out to last the winter.

When the store of the firewood was running low, Chen Ma was unable to keep her bedroll on top of the kang warm (a kang is a bed base built of bricks with space for a small fire). So she slept curling against the baby tiger, whose soft fur was cozy and warm.

Once ever so often, women from nearby villages would bring sewing for Chen Ma to do. She was very handy with a needle. They paid her for her labor with dried venison and small sacks of grain. At first they did not find the little tiger's presence alarming; he was no bigger than a piglet. However, when spring came, he had grown into the size of a calf, showing a full set of teeth and claws. The women told their hunter husbands and the men came to kill the young tiger.

Chen Ma armed herself with her son's hunting spear and threatened to gut anyone who dared to harm her beloved pet.

"I've lost both husband and son. This tiger is the only companion I have now. I shall go to the magistrate and request to adopt him as my son."

The hunters thought the old woman had become mad and jeered at her. But since she was so determined, they dared not kill her tiger without the magistrate's permission. So they followed Chen Ma and her tiger all the way to the official's judgment hall.

"Venerable Mother," said the magistrate. "Your request is most unusual. Are you not afraid that some day the tiger might revert to his wild nature and devour you?"



"Honorable sir," replied the old widow with tears in her eyes. "What is there to fear? I have lived too long. The only worry I have now is being left utterly alone. Please let me adopt this young tiger, for he has become like a son in my affections."

The kindly magistrate did not have the heart to refuse such an ancient woman's pleading. So he had his assistant draw up a document for the tiger's adoption.

In order to protect the tiger from the hunters' arrows and spears, the magistrate ordered a large copper pendent made to hang around the beast's neck. The words "Fu Chee" were engraved on the pendent meaning Tiger Son. To show her deep gratitude, Chen Ma knelt down in front of the magistrate and knocked her forehead three times. Then she led Fu Chee back to their home in the forest.



By next winter, Fu Chee had grown into his maximum size. Chen Ma's hut was in danger of collapsing whenever the tiger became playful. Reluctantly, she allowed Fu Chee to make his home inside a cave nearby.



However, the affectionate tiger came back to visit his adopted mother often, always bearing a gift in his mouth -- a dead deer or a large piece of tree branch. Also, he still liked to lick her shoes and to have his ears rubbed. Chen Ma's needs were being cared for just as if her natural son was still alive!

After Chen Ma died at the ripe old age past one hundred, the hunters noticed Fu Chee guarded her tomb nightly. They left him unmolested as he had never attacked any humans or domestic animals. This went on for a number of years and then one day the tiger was seen no more.



Out of deep respect and admiration for the filial tiger son, the hunters erected a small stone monument at Chen Ma's tomb with Fu Chee's story engraved on it. Henceforth, Fu Chee became a household legend in that part of Shanxi Province.

~ ~ The End ~ ~

The One...

Three guys were tried for crimes against humanity.
Two guys committed crimes.
One guy didn't.

Three guys were given government trials.
Two guys had fair trials.
One guy didn't.

Three guys were whipped and beaten.
Two guys had it coming.
One guy didn't.

Three guys were given crosses to carry.
Two guys earned their crosses.
One guy didn't.

Three guys were mocked and spit at along the way.
Two guys cursed and spit back.
One guy didn't.

Three guys were nailed to crosses.
Two guys deserved it.
One guy didn't.

Three guys agonized over their abandonment.
Two guys had reason to be abandoned.
One guy didn't.

Three guys talked while hanging on their crosses.
Two guys argued.
One guy didn't.

Three guys knew death was coming.
Two guys resisted.
One guy didn't.

One.
Two.
Three guys died on three crosses.

Three days later.
Two guys remained in their graves.
One guy didn't.

China loved Chocolate.

She loved chocolate in all its forms and all its flavours. China loved chocolate so much that she even made up a little song about it – the song went like this:

Chocolate bars and chocolate cake
And chocolate anything,
Chocolate whipped and chocolate chipped
And sprinkled on ice cream.

Buttons, bars and biscuits,
I like my chocolate lots.
I eat my chocolate every day,
My Mum says I'll get spots.

The bit about China's mum was all too true. Her mother had decided that China ate far too much chocolate and that it was unhealthy. She'd cut China's chocolate down by half, so that chocolate was very much on China's mind when she walked through the wood that day.

It was a warm day, a cool breeze in the trees day but China couldn’t feel it. It was a blue day, a cloud free fresh and new day but China couldn’t see it. All China could think about was chocolate.

As she walked through the woods everything reminded her of the chocolate she couldn’t have and the more she walked the crosser she got. She sang her chocolate song to herself:

Chocolate bars and chocolate cake
And chocolate anything,
Chocolate whipped and chocolate chipped
And sprinkled on ice cream.

Buttons, bars and biscuits,
I like my chocolate lots.
I eat my chocolate every day,
My Mum says I'll get spots.

China was so busy thinking about chocolate she didn’t see the old lady on the ground until she had almost fallen over her.

"Please help me up," said the old lady. "I fell down and my old bones won't let me get back up again."

But China wasn't listening. She was staring very hard at the old lady's basket. In the basket was a huge chocolate cake. It was topped with chocolate cream and chocolate flakes and was the most delicious looking chocolate cake China had ever seen. Her mouth watered.

Then she realised that the old lady was speaking to her.

"Could you help me up," said the old lady. "A big girl like you could easily lift me onto my feet." China thought for a minute...

"I'll help you up if you'll give me the chocolate cake in your basket," she said.

The old lady looked surprised, "But I made that cake for a special reason," she said.

"No cake, no help!" said China stubbornly.

"Then I suppose I must give it to you," said the old lady. "I don't want to be stuck down here all morning..."

China rushed over and helped the old lady to her feet. It wasn't difficult - the old lady was tiny and light as a bird.

"Now," said China, "my reward."

The old lady's eyes narrowed and she glared at China.

"I'll give you one more chance," she said. "I made that chocolate cake for someone in particular -- it's a very special cake. You won't find another cake like it."

"I can see that," said China greedily. "Now give it to me!"

The old lady handed over the basket with the cake in. China couldn't wait to take it home. She broke off a large piece with her hands and stuffed it into her mouth. It was delicious. The most delicious chocolate cake she'd ever tasted.

But as she chewed something odd happened. The cake in her mouth got stickier and sticker and China couldn't swallow it.The old lady watched as China's eyes grew wide with panic.

"I tried to warn you," said the old lady. "I baked that cake for someone in particular, I baked it for the woodland witch who put a curse on my cabbages. I added a special little ingredient of my own --glue!"

China's mouth was still crammed full of the awful sticky cake and she couldn't speak. She ran home as fast as she could. It was a while before she could make her mother understand what she was saying because the sticky chocolate stuck to the roof of her mouth.It took lots of glasses of water and several days before the taste of chocolate was gone completely.

And after that China couldn't even look at chocolate without feeling sick. She sang a different song after her chocolate shock. It went like this . . .

I love apples. I love pears
Grapes and cherries too,
I think plums and wonderful
Would you like a few?

THE END

"The Chocolate Shock"
Copyright © 2004
by Sharon Tregenza
All Rights Reserved.

When the earth was very young, the night and the animals didn't exist.

There were only trees, plants and people. During this time, the sun shone very brightly. The people were always very tired because they didn't sleep well. The trees were faded because of the hot weather.

Only the Big Snake who was a witch could make the night appear.

She was a very big snake who lived near a river. She kept night on the bottom of the river, inside a coconut.

The snake enjoyed seeing the people very tired and asleep. The indians implored her to give them night, but it was useless.

One day, the snake's beautiful Indian daughter married. Like her mother, she didn't need the night to rest. But her husband and the other people of the village were always tired. She didn't like to see them suffer. So she told her husband that she would ask to her mother to give her the night.

Her mother never refused her requests.

Her husband had three faithful servants. He sent them to take the night from the witch. Immediately the three indians took a boat and went to meet the Big Snake. Although the three men were very tired, they rowed fast.

When the trees saw the scene, they asked why were the Indians were going so fast. When the trees learned that night would come they started to dance and shout wih joy.

The three servants arrived at the place where the witch lived. They told her why they had come. She didn't like the idea about giving them night, but she couldn't refuse her daughter's request.

She gave them the coconut with the night inside and told them that only her daughter must open it. If another person opened the coconut, the darkness would cover the earth forever.

The servants agreed and returned to the village. During their return they heard strange noises from inside the coconut. They were the sounds of toads, crickets and other animals of the night.
They became very curious.

They could wait no longer and opened the coconut.

When they did it, they were astonished. The animals and the darkness escaped. All was very dark. No one could see anything . All the things without life seemed like pieces of wood or stones. Leaves changed into fishes, birds and insects.



Far away at the village, the witch's daughter told her husband that his three servants had opened the coconut. He was shocked and very disappointed because he thought they were faithful. How could the people live with the darkness?

But his wife had powers and thought of a solution. She had a way to control the darkness. She took a string of her hair and cut the sky with it. Soon the dawn appeared. Now there would be both day and night.

The three foolish servants tried to explain what they had done but it was useless. The witch's daughter turned them into three monkeys...

One song can spark a moment,

One flower can wake the dream.

One tree can start a forest,

One bird can herald spring.

One smile begins a friendship,

One handclasp lifts a soul.

One star can guide a ship at sea,

One word can frame the goal.

One vote can change a nation,

One sunbeam lights a room.

One candle wipes out darkness,

One laugh will conquer gloom.

One step must start each journey,

One word must start each prayer.

One hope will raise our spirits,

One touch can show you care.

One voice can speak with wisdom,

One life can make the difference,

You see, its up to you...

All the birds were happy. Soon, it would happen again - the party in the sky. Only the birds would go because only they could fly. The animals that could not fly were upset and jealous. They all knew the party in the sky was very beautiful. All the guests would dance among the clouds and stars.

Sometimes an animal who could not fly would try to find its way to the party. They always failed. Now all the animals were convinced that it was simply impossible to ever get to the party in the sky.

There was one fellow, however, who would not give up. The toad said, "This time, I will get to go to the party in the sky!" He had a plan and would not tell any of the other animals what it was.

The day of the great party arrived. The birds were all very excited, preparing the things they would take with them and fluffing up their feathers. All the other animals stayed away. Only the clever toad stayed among the birds. The birds were curious to see how this silly toad might get to their great party in the sky.

The vulture swooped down and asked the toad, "Just how do you intend to get up into the sky?"

"That's my surprise," answered the toad. He turned and hopped away leaving the vulture to scratch its head.

An hour later the toad snuck back and hid inside the vulture's guitar.

Soon, the vulture came, took his guitar and flew high into the sky. The toad stayed quietly inside the guitar.

When the vulture arrived at the giant party in the sky, the clever toad jumped out and danced across the clouds. The birds were all very surprised and demanded to know how the toad had managed to trick them. Toad would tell them nothing.

The party was very lively. There was lots of food and drink. Birds were singing and dancing to their hearts' content. The toad tried everything. He drank and ate quite a lot.

Most of the birds refused to dance with the toad. The parrot and sparrow were very upset with having this toad in their midst. They suggested that the toad be pushed off the cloud. The vulture was totally against this idea. The toad listened to all this and became worried. He crept back to the vulture's guitar and climbed back inside to hide.

Soon, the vulture picked up the guitar to play. The poor toad was going deaf inside!
When the party in the sky was finished the vulture flew off the cloud and soared through the sky. He noticed that his guitar seemed heavy so he looked inside and discovered the hidden toad.

"Please let me stay inside your guitar," begged the frightened toad.

"Oh no, little toad," answered the vulture. "I want to see how you fly."

With that the vulture shook the guitar and the poor toad fell all the way to the ground and broke into pieces.

The vulture looked down and felt pity for the poor toad, so he flew home to get a needle and some thread. When he returned to where the toad lay broken he sewed the toad back into one piece.

"Dear toad," the vulture said. "Won't you come to our next party in the sky?"

The toad hopped away without saying a word.

To this day you can still see where the toad had his skin mended by the needle and thread.

"How the Toad Got its Skin"
Translation and Illustrations
Copyright © 1997
by Maria Lucia Guimaraes Maier
All Rights Reserved.

My sport was fishing. I was not physically endowed to handle football or basketball. Fishing didn't care what size you were or your prowess. I gave the sport up for several years, but decided to try it again after starting work at a large Texas newspaper. Several of my colleagues were into it and spoke of their conquests.

"It's fantastic, Jim," said Billy Bob Metilda. "If you like gargantuan carp you've got to fish Lake Livingston."

After awhile I became so excited about fishing that I thought of nothing else. I began reading every fishing magazine and watching fishing shows on TV. The adrenaline was really surging.
I invested an entire paycheck in fishing gear. When I do things I pull out the stops. Sometimes I go overboard. I was now at the point of annoying my friends.

"I wish you would shut up about fishing and just do it!"

I pestered the guys about fishing as a group. Fishing is a sport that requires moral support. It's fun being with a bunch of guys, fumbling around with tackle and camping gear, drinking great quantities of beer and scratching a lot. No matter how old a fellow gets, male bonding remains important. Fishing is just one of those male bonding activities.

I was conscious of the fact that behind the paper was a prominent lake. Town Lake it was called. But other than rowing clubs and family boaters, no one dared venture into its water. It was a vile, polluted cesspool of crud in which three-eyed monsters and other freaks lived. Frequently, full-sized alligators were pulled out coughing and wheezing.

"If you want to fish so badly, why don't you just give Town Lake a try?"

I looked at the senior technician with amusement. "Yeah, right. Whatever thing I catch sure as heck isn't going to be edible."

He tried being serious. "Really, Jim. You've got a fishing license and all that expensive gear and there are fish out there. Why not?"

I became desperate and frustrated as it became apparent that there would be no male bonding. The guys were always busy whenever I proposed a date.

To the untrained eye Town Lake looked harmless. It ran for eight miles through the city, ending at the dam. I seriously considered giving the lake a try. I mean, what if some mutated thing or other rose to the surface and winked at me? Also, maybe the guys were just all talk and the water was perfectly all right.

One night I walked down to the bridge which joined the north and south sides of the city and stared into the water. I was crazy. I wanted to fish so much that I could taste it.

"Hey, buddy. Psst!"

"Huh?"

I was unaware of the presence of a bridge lunatic. There were people known to reside under the bridge with an affinity towards trollism. To my left I could make out the form of a bedraggled, smelly man. He was short and appeared harmless. Still I was on my guard. You never know what a person is capable of.

"May I help you?" I tried sounding tough. Some people in fear sound like wimps. Your voice goes into your nose and you sound like Melvin the nerd.

The little man said, "I knew you were coming. You like fishing, huh? It was prophesied that a mighty fishing warrior would come along to tame the great Town Lake. I'm here to assist you on your quest."

As he got closer I nearly passed out from the smell. I have nothing against anyone, but a rank troll in training is a bit overwhelming.

"Why, that's most interesting," I said trying to not irritate my new friend. "Do you know much about fishing?"

With the help of moonlight I had a better vision of the man's face. Though yucky, there was magic about him. Wisdom shined in his eyes.

"Yup. And I can tell you how to catch the big ones. You see that dark thing up there in the sky?"

I looked across the lake towards downtown. Hovering above the tallest building was a dark band that ran north to south. It was a most sinister and predatory thing.

My friend explained, "Only we who rule the night and hear voices and see things know the truth. That's the space thingy that dictates the infrastructure of Town Lake. You see, by day lawyers work in that building. But at night they take off their disguises and become their real selves. They are aliens guarding the lake, ready with subpoenas in case their friends the fish are threatened. Together they plan world domination. Only you, the fishing savior, can save Town Lake and the world from legal/alien domination."

Okay. Time to go. Nothing against trolls but I rather like sanity. However the part about lawyers being aliens seemed believable.

"Well, I've got to go. I'll keep you in mind if I do fish Town Lake. Bye."

As I walked back towards the paper I looked up at the ominous dark formation. Nah. There had to be a logical explanation.

Town Lake had originally been a very nice, pure, untainted lake. It was human intervention that caused the pollution. There are some, however, who believe it's really the angry spirits of frustrated anglers that caused Town Lake to be unfishable.

I thought of my troll friend. What a nut. A raid by the police a few nights later removed the small band of trolls. I heard that most, including my friend in all likelihood, had been sent to a reformation colony where they were cleaned up and sentenced to training as telemarketers.
How can one explain addiction? The mind is a funny thing. It gets stuck on a thought, and it takes a major blast to drive it out. The guys at work became concerned when I spoke of the troll man and the dark thingy in the sky. Perhaps my fishing addiction had finally sent me over the edge. The guys thought I was weird to begin with.

"Have you thought of taking up tennis, Jim?"

So, I started playing tennis and momentarily dropped the fishing bit. I was eating right and getting plenty of exercise. I decided to shave my ear hair and felt that mysterious bump in the back of my head disappear. Most beneficially, I could close my eyes. Wow! Were they ever red and hurt. All the physical problems were solved by simple nonfish activity.

One night I was outside the paper when I heard and saw something most strange. This great big, white thing comes around the corner, stops and stares at me. A giant rat with a massive tail. Most critters run for the woods upon encountering a human being. This thing stood its ground.
"Hey, bud. Psst!"

I shook my head. It was quite late, and I was tired.

Still, the rat said, "Hey, dummy. Psst!"

I walked over to it. It was about three feet long and a foot high. Its voice was a high squeak.

"I've got news for you, Jim. The fish are hot and heavy tonight. You better get busy or you'll miss out. This is your destiny."

I was not amused. Enough was enough. I was weary of silly things, so I said to the albino rat, "You just go away. I'm not listening to any more foolishness. I'm not into fishing, so you just go chase cheese."

Still, the rat persisted. "I know you encountered troll man, but I'm being square with you. You must fish Town Lake. The world is at risk, and your fishing will save it. I mean, let's be honest. If there weren't something bizarre, most unworldly going on, why would I be speaking, huh?"
Everything was in the trunk of my car. My super deluxe, triple-layer tackle box, my Magneto 2000 spinning rod and reel as advertised on the Dick Shick Shyster fishing show. Of my lures, I couldn't lose with the Froggy Bouncy crankbait, guaranteed to stir to a frenzy anything with fins.

I shook my head once more just to make sure that I wasn't hallucinating. Rat smiled, teeth revealing remnants of its last meal. "All right, Jim. It's up to you. You only have six hours to catch whatever's out there and save the world from domination. No pressure, dude."

With my heart beating so fast that I felt dizzy, I hauled the fishing gear out and in pitch darkness stumbled down the path to the edge of the lake, stationing myself between two big trees. I didn't have a flashlight, so I had to rely on faint moonlight. Somehow I managed to get the string strung and the lure on without harming myself.

I peered into the darkness. Where were they? What were they? These certainly couldn't be normal fish. I just didn't know what I was dealing with. I then thought of the words of my fishing guru Achten Ben Johnson, "Use your instincts. Feel the fish, fish the fish. Just cast, stupid!"
Suddenly there was a miracle. Out of the corner of my eye appeared glowing objects gliding majestically through the water. They were glowfish, and they were everywhere. Was Town Lake polluted or what?

I felt overwhelmed. Something inside said this was it. My ship had come in. Do or die. This was a totally different kettle of fish.

My first cast came up short. Still, I could see the lead fish steer in its direction. It was truly beautiful seeing these lights in the shapes of fish maneuver through heavily polluted water. My second cast using the Froggy Bouncy crankbait was a little better. This time the lead fish slammed into the bait, nearly tearing the rod out of my hands. It fought like a monster, but I mastered it. As I hauled it out, it growled and barked at me.

"That's no way to treat a dogfish, you human wannabe fisherman."

I silenced it by praising its enemy the catfish. It got me good when it became very bright, threatening to blind me, and became too hot to hold. I tossed it into a tall tree where it hung as the first of a set of lights. I then continued fishing.

One after another angry glowfish/dogfish were caught and tossed into the tree. It was pretty noisy, as the tree became crowded. There was plenty of whimpering, growling and name-calling. As I moved downstream to try another spot, I looked back. The tree was lit up like a Christmas tree and there was singing.

I had no trouble finding glowfish. They seemed to gravitate more to me than to my lure. Each victory became more vicious as they even made fun of my mother.

Around three in the morning the truly unbelievable occurred. I was now on the north side of the lake. My arms and legs ached. Suddenly the dark formation in the sky tilted down into the lake and little glowing chariots and riders descended into the water. They were here to help their comrades the glowfish in battling me. I could see the chariot riders making suggestions. They spoke a foreign language further made indecipherable by being under water.

"Glug glug....harumph pumph, sneeze, ta tah hah. Hum."

It got more difficult for me as they tried pulling me in. The little chariot men sent some sort of nonelectrical current up the line causing me to sporadically jump three feet in the air and only alleviated by singing the first verse of "I love you." Yeah, if the children's favorite dinosaur Barney had to battle these things he'd probably be singing "I hate fish, so do you. Let's fry 'em up and serve 'em in a stew."

Let me describe the scene for you. I fought the unholy fish for four hours. I'd made it two-thirds the way around the lake. Trees lining the lake are so bright with hanging glowfish that I have no trouble seeing. Presently glowfish assisted by chariot riders are attempting to conquer me.
A thought occurred to me. This had to be a plot by unnamed forces. I say unnamed because the glowfish and chariot riders are merely the fighters. What I gather as I converse with them is that they have heavy political beliefs. Maybe they transform into human form and take political office. That would explain considerable. I've often wondered what planet some politicians are from.

Suddenly the water started bubbling and rolling. Something new and weird was happening. The light from all the fish was blinding me. Instead of many glowfish it was now one massive glowfish. They had merged to become a mess of a glowfish with multiple eyes and fins. This big boy now sprouted legs and emerged from the lake. At this point I gave up fishing.

Several chariot riders rode the monster fish's back. One had the reins and was steering it.
"Give up, human," I heard one of them say. "See the evil in your human values. Dogfish rule!"
The giant glowfish had incredible speed as it raced me up to the bridge. I was frantically looking for a policeman. It seemed to me that as bright as Town Lake had become someone would have noticed and called the police.

The mutated fish probably measured ten feet long and five feet high. At first it gasped for air, which being a fish out of water, it most naturally would. But the longer it was out the easier it became to breathe.

As it chased me around the lake, the glowfish I'd thrown into the trees jumped off and merged with the big one to make it even bigger and powerful. I started to cry.

Reciting from the 1989 Fishing Guide for Fools: "If all methods and lures fail and you are confronted by a freakish, unearthly mother of a fish, you are no longer the fisherman but the one being fished. Refer to the 1989 Hunting Guide for Fools, page 108, for using bazooka on abnormal species rather than on deer." Right. Like I had time to refer to any of that. I mean, where's a bazooka when you need one?

Allow me to update you on the scene. I have abandoned fishing, perhaps for the rest of my life, am being hotly pursued by the largest glowfish (though apparently it likes going by dogfish) ever to crawl out of water. This sucker is so bright that night has become day. With each glowfish I'd caught and tossed into a tree now joining the big one, the monster glowfish grew. And the thing is that I seem to be the only human being aware of the situation. Thank you police. It has to be political.

The fish was now singing a silly little tune. The chariot riders joined in. It sounded to me like that silly gimmicky sixties song "They're coming to take me away, aha." What a silly song to be singing. Still none of this made sense.

I kept shouting at it, "Shut up with the singing!" Still it persisted.

About the fifth time around the lake I realized that as it grew it became slower. Simply too much weight. A couple of the chariot riders got off thinking this might help, accept by my reasoning, a chariot rider is too small, maybe weighing at best five pounds.

As I thought over my predicament it occurred to me that if the fish got large enough it might not be able to get under the bridge, which was roughly ten feet high. Maybe it would chase me under it and get stuck. It was my only hope. It sure would scare the troll people, the few who had returned having become disillusioned with telemarketing.

I stumbled over some rocks and fell flat on my face. Looking back I saw the silly fish smile.
"Now I'm gonna get you, sucker. Doo wah diddy diddy dum diddy doo," it sang.

At that moment when the jig seemed to be up, a voice said to me, "Get to your frigging feet. How embarrassing being eaten by a dopey, political, alien glowfish. The shame."

I got to my feet and raced towards the bridge. Sure enough, in the shadows were some troll people. The looks on their faces were precious. There was absolute, confounding shock at seeing this little dude being chased by a massive glowfish with tiny chariot riders mounted on its back singing silly, obnoxious, gimmicky sixties tunes.

"Get out of here!" I yelled at them as I raced past them. I was now directly under the bridge. The shock made several freeze in their tracks. However, as the fish closed within feet, I found most shooting past me.

"Ugh. Uh, uh."

Just as I hoped, the fish had grown too large to make it under the bridge. Still it strained and pushed with all its fishy might. The chariot riders got off. Some pulled on the reins as the others pushed from behind. Finally they succeeded in getting it stuck.

"There, you fools. Let's see you get out of this one!"

I was jumping up and down in insane excitement. The chariot riders swore at me. They didn't have any more happy songs to sing.

Suddenly the fish began flapping its fins and barking in desperation. I was touched by its sad eyes yet repulsed by its odor. It was working on my sympathy.

"You human. You think you have us," said one of the chariot riders. It was hard taking him seriously when he sounded like a Smurf. "We have connections within your government. We all come from water. You think cleansing this lake will stop us?" His laugh sent a chill through me. He continued, "You must be an avid and committed fisherman for we exist everywhere. You think some Froggy Bouncy crankbait is enough?"

Just then the bridge started to buckle from the stress of the fish. Instead of going forward they decided to back out. As the fish successfully but not gracefully wiggled free, the chariot riders let out a cheer, and I knew then there was no stopping it.

I'd parked my car on the farthest end of the paper's parking lot. Though exhausted, I started the car and burned rubber. Looking in my rearview mirror, I could see the growing glowfish lay waste to my former place of employment.

My radio came on and a very pronounced alien voice said, "We may be slow, earth dude, but there is no stopping us. You better run."

Why was I alone? Why weren't others aware of this gigantic glowfish threatening our very existence?

I thought of the many dangers of fishing. There's the danger of getting a hook in the ear and losing your fishing pole and tackle, which makes the hook in the ear attractive. How about fishing without a license? There you are on the lake, you haven't caught a bite, you've lost that expensive spinning rod and reel in twenty feet of water, and to top it off you have a third degree sunburn. Suddenly some funny little man in a boat putt putts up to you and asks to see your fishing license. You may very well have one but it's for another state.

"But I thought, officer, that a fishing license was like a driver's license. Good in any state." Wrong.

All these dangers pale to that of encountering a freak fish. Mine was the glowfish that couldn't accept no. This was the fish you wished would get away. I would much rather take the hook in the ear and the loss of a valuable rod and reel and tackle.

Life never was normal after fishing Town Lake. The glowfish and riders chased me around the world. It stopped growing after it hit the size of a mountain. I was always just one step ahead. I tried warning people. It was useless. Towns and countries were devastated. Other glowfish rose out of every ocean, lake and stream. I hoped that if I could reach my fellow fishermen we might be able to fight the glowfish.

"You are one crazy dude," General Raphael Herrerra of the Costa Rican Air Force complimented me. "You want me to use my air force to help you destroy glowfish?"

My travels had earned me contacts with men high in command. I learned that the General was not above approaching or reproach.

"You've seen the charts and statistics, General. Most of Europe and Asia are awash in light. Now the upper part of North America is being threatened. Fishing has all but been banned. Massive airstrikes are our only hope."

All glowfish from around the world had converged to join forces in order to take over the world. I found it personal in that wherever I went they followed. They struck so quickly that no one took action. No one believed what he or she saw. Giant glowfish? Right. You be the first to admit that you see one.

With the help of a box of quality cigars and a lifetime subscription to TV Guide, the General agreed to my plan.

Starting late Tuesday night bombing runs were made over Canada. The excitement in the pilots' voices told the story.

"They're all over the place," announced one pilot. "There was no possibility of surprise. The fish had the sky lit up for a good five miles."

There was a momentary ray of hope as the bombs appeared to take out a great many glowfish and their riders. However, this just broke the big one into its many individual fish and many of these made it back to water where they merged, or reconstituted themselves into another giant glowfish.

I was a man on the run, and I was quickly running out of places to run to. I understood that the fish and riders were fighting for an unknown power. Whoever or whatever alien force I had yet to discover. What I did know was that this power was setting up a political system that had to do with a love for chess, tofu and talking in inconsistencies.

So I run and run. Lately the bad guys have attempted to make friends with me. They have promised all kinds of incentives, one being limited fishing of, yes, catfish. I can't give up. I am the ordained fishing savior, and as long as there are devout fishermen I will fight. I pick up allies along the way. We gather as much data about the alien power as we can.

Currently I am stationed somewhere in Australia. I'm working on a possible solution with a nutty scientist named Professor Uck Uck. Our theory is this: The evil alien power loves silly gimmicky sixties tunes. Using pirated airwaves we have played various styles of music. Our spies say most don't effect the bad guys. However, heavy metal and some polka music have brought us positive results. We've heard the growling, barking and whining which proves their dislike for these forms of music. We're hoping to make it so painful that they'll vacate this planet and go to one that doesn't mind their type of music. We're very hopeful. It will take time and that's what we're worried about. Fortunately there's plenty of bad music to choose from. It shouldn't take that long to find the one it really can't stand.

THE END

"The Amazing Glowfish and Other Aquatic Abnormalities"
Copyright © 2000
by Delo White
All Rights Reserved.

There was once a guy who suffered from cancer...

A cancer that can't be treated.

He was 18 years old and he could die anytime. All his life, he was stuck in his house being taken cared by his mother. He never went outside but he was sick of staying home and wanted to go out for once. So he asked his mother and she gave him permission. He walked down his block and found a lot of stores. He passed a CD store and looked through the front door for a second as he walked. He stopped and went back to look into the store.

He saw a young girl about his age and he knew it was love at first sight.

He opened the door and walked in, not looking at anything else but her. He walked closer and closer until he was finally at the front desk where she sat. She looked up and asked "Can I help you?" She smiled and he thought it was the most beautiful smile he has ever seen before and wanted to kiss her right there.

He said "Uh... Yeah... Umm... I would like to buy a CD." He picked one out and gave her money for it."Would you like me to wrap it for you?" she asked, smiling her cute smile again. He nodded and she went to the back. She came back with the wrapped CD and gave it to him. He took it and walked out of the store. He went home and from then on, he went to that store everyday and bought a CD, and she wrapped it for him. He took the CD home and put it in his closet.

He was still too shy to ask her out and he really wanted to but he couldn't. His mother found out about this and told him to just ask her. So the next day, he took all his courage and went to the store. He bought a CD like he did everyday and once again she went to the back of the store and came back with it wrapped. He took it and when she wasn't looking, he left his phone number on the desk and ran out...

!!!RRRRRING!!!

The mother picked up the phone and said, "Hello?"It was the girl!!! She asked for the boy and the mother started to cry and said, "You don't know? He passed away yesterday..."

The line was quiet except for the cries of the boy's mother. Later in the day. The mother went into the boy's room because she wanted to remember him. She thought she would start by looking at his clothes. So she opened the closet. She was face to face with piles and piles and piles of unopened CDs.

She was surprised to find all those CDs and she picked one up and sat down on the bed and she started to open one. Inside, there was a CD and as she took it out of the wrapper, out fell a piece of paper. The mother picked it up and started to read it.

It said: Hi... I think U R really cute. Do u wanna go out with me? Love, Jacelyn

The mother opened another CD... Again there was a piece of paper.

It said: Hi... I think U R really cute. Do u wanna go out with me? Love, Jacelyn

Love is when you've had a huge fight but then decide to put aside your egos, hold hands and say,
"I Love You".

Chinese Tea Stories



I grew up with a childhood filled with Aesop, Brothers Grimm, and Disney. I faintly knew the stories and fables of a country hundreds of years old, China. I was familiar with the festivals and names of a handful of tales: Moon Cake Festival, The Water Margin, The Monkey King, but not knowing the full story nor the significance to the Chinese culture.

As I was trying to explore these myths, I found that there was a lack of storytelling on the Net. So I'm presenting these stories for you to enjoy, like a fresh cup of tea: full of flavor and distinctiveness.




Long time ago in a village tucked away in the mountains lived a little boy name Mike. His family were farmers. Farming was hard to do on a mountainside. There wasn't much success for his family, nor for the rest of the village. Being poor didn't bother Mike because he loved to paint. In the fields, Mike drew animal shapes in the dirt. By the river, Mike drew fish and plants on rocks with his wet finger. There was no stopping Mike's creativity for canvas and paint. When he was old enough, he went to the monastery to speak with the head monk. He knew the head monk was a famous painter and Mike wanted to learn from him. The old monk told Mike he was too young and that he should stay with his family to farm. Mike was devastated and walked home slowly, crying silently all the way.


That night, a white owl appeared at Mike's window. "Whooo," the owl cried as it flew into Mike's bedroom. In a flash, the owl changed into an old man. Mike hid behind his bed, trembling. The old man laughed and said, "I've been watching you, Mike. You're a very talented artist. I've brought a gift from the gods. It's a magic paintbrush. Use it, and it'll make many people happy." Then the old man turned back into the white owl, flying out the window and into the night.
Mike blinked his eyes, and blinked them again. The brush was on the table, waiting for the boy to pick it up. Mike picked up the brush and a tingle ran up his arm. He had to try out his gift. He unrolled a torn piece of cloth, mixed some ash with water to make ink, then drew a bird. Nothing happened for a moment but then Mike couldn't believe his eyes. The bird blinked, then ruffled its feathers. With a stretch of its wings, the bird came to life and flew off the paper. Mike fell to the ground! He tried again, but this time with a turtle. The turtle came to life with a hard shell and a head that popped in and out of that shell. All night, Mike drew little animals that came to life.


When morning arrived, Mike ran to the farm to greet his father. He had to show him his new paintbrush. Mike walked towards the broken cart. It hasn't been used in years because it was missing a wheel. Mike waved his magical paintbrush in the air and drew a wheel for the cart. POOF, a wheel appeared on the cart. Mike continued to draw things for his father to use on the farm. They were both very happy.

A week went by and news of Mike's paintbrush spread through the village. Neighbors visited Mike to have him draw new farming equipment. He was happy to help them all. One neighbor who heard about Mike was Mustache Sam, the mean rancher who lived at the end of the village. No one liked him. He abused his animals and stole from the village.

Mustache Sam had a plan. He told his henchmen to kidnap Mike and steal his paintbrush. Wednesday night, Mustache Sam's men grabbed Mike when he was walking home from the farm. Mike was thrown into an abandoned shed and two guys stood guard at the door while another ran for Mustache Sam.


When Mustache Sam arrived, he smelled something burning from inside the shed. He opened the door and found a cooked meal and a blanket, both of which were drawn by Mike for comfort. Mustache Sam discovered something else: a ladder perched against the back window of the shed. Mike had drawn a ladder to escape his capture. With all of his might, Mustache Sam yelled and knocked over the fire, burning the shed to the ground. Mike watched the chaos from behind a big rock and was not found. He ran home and hid for the next month.

During this month, stories of Mike's magical paintbrush travel all over China. People described animals coming to life and how one village poverty turned around with the aid of new farming equipment; all of this because of one little boy's big heart and his paintbrush. The news reached even to the ears of the Emperor.


The Emperor was a greedy man. He hoarded gold and gems from far away lands. He counted his money daily. He even had servants killed if they were eating too much food. The Emperor wanted Mike's magical paintbrush. He set out a million-dollar reward for the capture of Mike and his paintbrush.

Mike was captured by the Emperor's soldiers and brought before the emperor. Mike was separated with his brush and then thrown into jail. The Emperor wondered what was to be his first drawing with the magical paintbrush. He drew what he thought was a golden phoenix. A golden phoenix to lay him golden eggs. The bird flapped its wings and came to life as a common chicken. "Bock," it cried and ran around the royal throne room. The emperor tried to draw a bar of gold. Since he was a greedy man, he drew a long bar of gold. The gold bar wiggled off the paper in the shape of a snake. The huge snake crept towards the emperor and wrapped itself around him. The emperor yelled for his men of court to free him. At the same time, the chicken ran and jumped up on the head of emperor, and laid a big yellow egg.


Mike was ordered out of jail to the emperor's throne room. The emperor was furious and frustrated, unable to paint gold and riches. He ordered Mike to draw for him a sailing vessel, large enough for the royal family and all of its servants. Mike drew the most beautiful boat, carved from rare woods and gilded with gold and gemstone sparkles. Next he was ordered to draw a river to where to dock the boat. Mike drew a river. When it came to life, it picked up speed and enough strength to give birth to a tidal wave. Water crashed and destroyed the royal palace. The rough tides towed the boat far out to sea. The evil emperor was stuck on the royal boat never to return to China.

With all of the confusion, no one saw Mike sneak away, draw himself a horse and ride away. Where did he go? Some say that Mike went home to continue to help the poor. Some others say he created animal refuge in the middle of China's mountain range and drew animals until the day he died.



The first time I heard of this story was when my best friend and I went to see the movie at the Pagoda Theater. It was raining that day, but not as hard as when Xu Xian met Lady White and Miss Green for the first time.


Xu Xian traveled by boat to the river town of Zhenjiang to oversee the local medicine shop. On his way, he read his medical journals. The sky grew dark and began to pour down. Xu Xian put his books away so not to drench them. He then saw two beautiful women standing at the riverside. They were alone without anything to cover their heads. He motioned the boat captain to pull along side of the women.

Xu Xian offered to take them to their destination. The older of the two women introduced herself at Lady White and declined the kind offer by Xu Xian. Lady White’s sister, Miss Green, motioned that she was feeling cold from the downpour of rain. Xu Xian, noticing this and was taken by their beauty, gave them his umbrella. Xu Xian’s boat pulled away from the dock and Xu Xian watched the two women walk away into the brush.


When Xu Xian arrived at Zhenjiang, he again met Lady White and Miss Green. He thought it was fate that they were together again. Not long after that, Xu Xian and Lady White married. Everything was going well for Xu Xian: his lovely wife was pregnant; his sister-in-law helped around the house and his shop; and his medicine shop was a success. The villagers loved Xu Xian because he was a good physician and had a kind heart. He made house calls and healed people who didn’t have money to pay him. He was very popular in the village.

Xu Xian was walking to his shop one day and came across a monk. The monk confided that Lady White and her sister, Miss Green, were snake spirits. Xu Xian called the monk crazy, disbelieving that his beautiful wife and her sister were snake spirits. Monk said if he didn’t believe him, to have his wife drink the special dragon festival wine. If snake spirits drink this wine, they would show their true selves. Xu Xian walked away, shaking his head, and feeling sorry for the monk, who he thought, was crazy.

The dragon boat festival was upcoming and one of Xu Xian's patients paid for his treatment in dragon boat festival wine. He brought it home to share with his wife. She refused saying wine would harm her baby to be. Xu Xian put the cup to her mouth and the wine poured into her mouth. Instantly, she turned into an eight-foot snake. Xu Xian’s eye widened and his hair turned white. To that, his heart stopped and Xu Xian fell to the ground, dead. Miss Green ran into the room and screamed. The pitch of her voice awoke Lady White, who transformed back into her beautiful human self.


Lady White knew of one herb, which would bring her husband back to life. But to obtain it, she’d have to travel far to the mountaintop. She and Miss Green immediately climbed the mountainside. At the top of the mountain was a lake; in the middle of the lake was an island. On the island was a lone tree. On this lone tree, grew the magical herb that would bring Xu Xian back to life. Lady White and Miss Green ascended to the edge of the lake. They saw the traveling monk sitting on the island meditating. He opened his eyes and chanted some mumbo jumbo spirit incantations. He was trying to prevent the two snake spirits from taking the magical herb. The two snake spirits flew to the island in the middle of the lake. The monk blocked them and said that humans and snake spirits couldn't live in harmony.

A confrontation broke out with the monk fighting the snake spirits. Miss Green drew her sword first. The monk fought back. Lady White dove into the lake, creating a huge wave, attempting to wash the monk off the island. The monk stood firm. Miss Green explained to the monk that they were not evil, but trying to keep Lady White’s loving husband alive because he was a good man and deserved to live. The monk refused to listen to her. Lady White jumped up and her gown turned into a white cloud. Behind this cloud, Lady White quickly snatched a sprig of the magic herb. The cloud and the two spirits disappeared, leaving the monk alone and defeated.


The snake spirits returned back to the village. They made a potion with the magical herb. Lady White soaked a cotton ball with the potion and put it in her dead husband’s mouth. Lady White and Miss Green waited for a minute. The wait was unbearable. Then something stirred in Xu Xian and his eyes opened up. He sat up and spat out the cotton ball. He remembered nothing of the past couple of days, and couldn’t figure out why he had the biggest headache of his life. He shook his head, looked up and was glad to see Miss Green and her lovely sister, Lady White.
The Pagoda Theater doesn’t stand at the corner of Filbert and Vallejo any more, so my best friend and I have to watch Chinese movies elsewhere. But we have our memories: dark empty theaters, moy and shrimp chips for snacks, watching double features endlessly, and seeing the film, "Tale of White Snake" along with an off the wall vampire flick.

"Chinese Tea Stories"
Copyright (c) 1998
by Colette Chooey
All Rights Reserved.

The Man in the Glass

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself,
And see what that man has to say.

For it isn't your father or mother or wife,
Who judgement upon you must pass;
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one starring back from the glass.

He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest.
For he's with you clear up to the end,
And you've passed the most dangerous, difficult test
If the man in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years.
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be the heartaches and tears
If you've cheated the man in the glass.

by Dale Wimbrow, Copyrighted in 1934.

The Boy in the Paper Boat

There was once a boy named Jack who knew how to make paper boats. He could fold boats out of newspapers, notepapers, wrapping papers, and even paper towels.

One evening, Jack folded the most worthy boat out of a magazine page. It was shiny. It had words and pictures all over it. Its sail was truly the tallest and best Jack had ever seen on a paper boat.

Jack put his new boat on the table next to his bed and went to sleep.

As Jack slept, small noises began to come from the paper boat. Soon the boat had a little paper crew that was preparing to set sail. There was a little captain with a blue hat and three crewmen with striped shirts.

The captain shouted "Let loose the stern line and prepare to sail!"

Jack awoke and noticed the fact that his best paper boat was about to set sail across his bedroom.

"Hey!" he whispered. "Where are you going with my boat?"

"Well climb aboard, mate," the paper captain shouted.

Jack found himself inside his paper boat as his bedroom filled with the ocean. The paper boat slipped off the bed table and sailed across the room, down the hall, out the front door and into the street toward the shopping mall.

The water rushed the little boat along the gutter and Jack saw the curb whizzing by. He saw fire hydrants and bus stops and automobile tires as the boat sailed on.

"Don't you think we might get soggy and sink?" Jack asked the paper captain.

"Oh no, my boy, she's made of the toughest stuff for boats," replied the captain.

"Where are we sailing to?" Jack asked with some amount of worry.

"Pirates, my lad. Pirates are in the parking lot!"

Jack was afraid as the paper boat turned a corner, narrowly missing a bottle. Up ahead he could hear a roar. It was the mouth of a very large drain. The little boat was sucked in and nearly turned upside down as it raced through a long dark pipe.

When the boat came out into the light Jack could see that they had sailed all the way to the giant shopping mall. The parking lot was a vast and rolling sea.

"Pirates!" shouted the paper sailors. "Pirates ahead!"

The scariest paper boat Jack could have imagined sailed toward them. The boat had big yellow sails and Jack could see paper pirates waving their swords.

There was a fierce battle and Jack fought the pirates like a true hero. When the pirate ship sank with many holes in its side Jack and the sailors yelled "Hooray!"

The paper boat brought Jack safely back to his bed table and, after wishing the paper sailors good luck, he climbed back into his bed for a good night's sleep.

Jack kept the paper boat on his bed table always, just in case the paper captain and crew should ever need his help again.

THE END

"The Boy in the Paper Boat"
Copyright © 1999 by Alessandro Cima
All Rights Reserved.

THE ANGELS IN HEAVEN DANCED WHEN YOU WERE BORN



The Angels in Heaven
danced when you were born.
One root-a-toot-tooted
her gold shiny horn.

Another did back flip
sand hummed a kazoo,
but they all whooped and they hollered
and yelled, "Whoop-De-Doo!"

Some blew on big bugles,
some pounded pianos,
A few banged on bongos,
and strummed on their banjos.

They jigged up a big
celebration with glee,
Because you were the cutest
they ever did see!

One pranced and sashayed
on a white fluffy cloud.
But they all sang and clapped.
They were so very proud,

That you had been born,
and you lived on the Earth.
It filled all their hearts
with joy, love and mirth.

One long bearded Angel
who beat on a drum,
Asked all of the others
just what you'd become.

One Angel supposed you
an artist or dancer.
Another suggested
that you'd find the answer,

For illness and hunger
and anger and greed.
That you'd somehow help others
find just what they need.

They yelled, "Postman!", or "Surgeon!",
"Musician!", "Or Teacher!"
"A Banker or Lawyer",
"A Pilot or Preacher!"

One Angel in front said,
"A Skilled Cabinet Maker".
Another called out,
"A Pastry Chef Baker!"



The smallest of Angels
raised high her small hand.
She shushed all the singing
and hushed up the band.

She said, "I'm so scared
for this teeny, wee baby.
What if they're too tall,
or too short, or just maybe..."

"They snort when they giggle,
or lisp when they talk?
And what if they wiggle
or limp when they walk?"

"What if they are deaf,
or they have to wear braces?
And what if their fingers
can't tie their shoelaces?"

"Their eyes might not see,
or they'll need to wear glasses.
And what if they need
to re-do a few classes?"

"They might not be able
to write or to spell,
to add or subtract,
or to draw very well."

"Their words may sound strange,
and their classmates make fun,
of the way that they dress,
or the way that they run."



The oldest of Angels
walked up with a smile,
And he said, "There will be,
every once and a while,"

"A person who thinks
a child has special needs.
But every child born
is so special indeed!"

"Not one single grain
on a beach full of sand,
Is the same, but that beach
is still gorgeous and grand."

"And there never has been,
nor there ever will be,
two fish or two whales,
just alike in the sea."

"Not one single bird,
and not one single feather,
fly just the same,
in the same kinds of weather."

"Don't you see that there's nothing
on Earth that's the same?
It's that way on purpose.
There's no one to blame."

"And just who's to say
what is right, and what's wrong.
Since they can't be the same,
they've been right all along."

"So, you see, it's ok.
It's no matter the way,
that they walk or they talk,
or the way that they say,"

"'Good Morning', 'How are you',
or 'How do you do?'
"It's all in the way that
their hearts say, 'I love you'."

"They're perfect no matter
what others might say,
And we treasure, adore them,
exactly that way!"



"We'll love them forever,
and smile as they grow,
but there is one more thing
that I'd like you to know."

"When you were created
with horns on your head,
a small, pointed tail,
and a pitchfork instead..."

"Of the wings you have now,
and your halo on top...
We loved even you,
and we never will stop!"

THE END

"The Angels in Heaven Danced When You Were Born"
Copyright © 1999 by Karen Byrum
Illustrations Copyright © 1999 by Eddie Henry
All Rights Reserved.

Legends...

A vacationing businessman was walking along a beach when he saw a young boy.

Along the shore were many starfish that had been washed up by the tide and were sure to die before the tide returned. The boy was walked slowly along the shore and occasionally reached down and tossed the beached starfish back into the ocean.

The businessman, hoping to teach the boy a little lesson in common sense, walked up to the boy and said,

"I have been watching what you are doing, son. You have a good heart, and I know you mean well, but do you realize how many beaches there are around here and how many starfish are dying on every beach every day.

"Surely such an industrious and kind hearted boy such as yourself could find something better to do with your time. Do you really think that what you are doing is going to make a difference?"

The boy looked up at the man, and then he looked down at a starfish by his feet. He picked up the starfish, and as he gently tossed it back into the ocean, he said,

"It makes a difference to that one."

He handed her 12 roses, 11 real and 1 fake and said, "I'll love you till the last one dies."

I have this special friend named John. He was very sweet and caring.

He always checked on me and treated me a 'special' person.

Suddenly I realized, I was falling for him.

On March 14, he proposed to me and we became a couple.

He remained sweet and loving to me.

Every 14th of the month he would say, "Cheska, I have to tell you something..."

But will not continue it and say it was nothing.

I became curious, was he about to break up with me?

But I continued to trust him. our graduation is coming -- on March 14, 4 years later.

I knew that after this night, my family and I would be leaving for the states.

We knew this time would come, and I never expected it to hurt so much.

But I have to go and leave him.

We promised to stay in touch and never forget each other.

He gave me a box of chocolates, flowers, pictures of us together and a locket.

And so, I left with memories of John in my heart.

We always e-mailed each other and communicated.

I told him how I loved life here, I partied every Friday with my friends, went shopping...

I was living the life I always wished I had.

But I was never able to read John's last letter because of my hectic schedule.

I promised myself to read it when I found the time.

Then suddenly, it stopped (his letters and e-mails).

I was wondering why he isn't writing to me anymore.

But I understand maybe he has work to do. He didn't even greet me on March 14.

After several months still without communication,

I found time to read his last letter and it was the most shocking moment in my life --

"Cheska, This is my last letter to you...

Remember when I was supposed to tell you something important but was never able to do so?

I wanted to tell you that my "moment" (it means death) is March 14,

exactly 1 year later after you left and 5 years after I proposed to you.

That was what the doctor said. I have this sickness, I forgot what it was called.

All I know is that I'm going to die soon.

I'm not telling you to come back after reading this letter,

I just wanted to let you know that I will always love you

and that forever you will be in my heart.

I love you Cheska. Thank you for changing me. Thank you for everything.

Goodbye I'm gonna miss you.

Lots of love, John."

I wanted to cry and shout his name. March 14 was 3 months ago!

He died 3 months ago!

And I never knew because I was so busy enjoying my life here

when someone I loved so much was suffering from an unidentified sickness.

Up to this day I still feel guilty, I could have been right beside John when he was ill,

but I was here partying and eating my heart out. I was so guilty. He died.

John died.

Until his last breath he wanted to be with me. But I wasn't there.

I went back to the Philippines and visited his grave.

In it was written, "To John, who loved Cheska so much, may he forever rest in peace."

And he died on March 14.

March 14, when this day comes, I cry, laugh, think and feel guilty,

this day I feel mixed emotions. I hate myself.

Why do I have to read his last letter when it was too late?

Why do I have to leave anyway?

These questions keep going on my mind. But I can do nothing now. John is up there.

I guess he wanted me to be happy. I still love John. And I miss him so much...

One day, a poor boy who was selling goods from door to door to pay his way through school,

found he had only one thin dime left, and he was hungry.

He decided he would ask for a meal at the next house.

However, he lost his nerve when a lovely young woman opened the door.

Instead of a meal he asked for a drink of water.

She thought he looked hungry so brought him a large glass of milk.

He drank it slowly, and then asked, "How much do I owe you?"

"You don't owe me anything," she replied,

"Mother has taught us never to accept payment for a kindness."

He said... "Then I thank you from my heart."

As Howard Kelly left that house, he not only felt stronger physically,

but his faith in God and man was strong also.

He had been ready to give up and quit.

Years later that young woman became critically ill.

The local doctors were baffled.

They finally sent her to the big city, where they called inspecialists to study her rare disease.

Dr. Howard Kelly was called in for the consultation.

When he heard the name of the town she came from, a strange light filled his eyes.

Immediately he rose and went down the hall of the hospital to her room.

Dressed in his doctor's gown he went in to see her.

He recognized her at once.

He went back to the consultation room determined to do his best to save her life.

From that day he gave special attention to the case.

After a long struggle, the battle was won.

Dr. Kelly requested the business office to pass the final bill to him for approval.

He looked at it, then wrote something on the edge and the bill was sent to her room.

She feared to open it, for she was sure it would take the rest of her life to pay for it all.

Finally, she looked, and something caught her attention on the side as she read those words...

"Paid in full with one glass of milk." (Signed) Dr. Howard Kelly.

Tears of joy flooded her eyes as her happy heart prayed:

"Thank You, GOD, that Your love has spread abroad through human hearts and hands."

There was once this guy who is very much in love with his girl.
This romantic guy folded 1,000 pieces of paper cranes as a gift to his girl.
Although, at that time he was just a small fry in his company,
his future didn't seem too bright, they were very happy together.

Until one day, his girl told him she was going to Paris and will never come back.
She also told him that she cannot visualize any future for both of them,
so they went their own ways there and then...

Heartbroken, the guy agreed.
But when he regained his confidence,
he worked hard day and night, slogging his body and mind
just to make something out of himself.

Finally with all the hard work and the help of friends,
this guy had set up his own company...

You never fail until you stop trying.

One rainy day, while this guy was driving, he saw an elderly couple
sharing an umbrella in the rain walking to some destination.
Even with the umbrella, they were still drenched.
It didn't take him long to realize they were his girl's parents.

With a heart in getting back at them, he drove slowly beside the couple,
wanting them to spot him in his luxury sedan.
He wanted them to know that he wasn't the same any more;
he had his own company, car, condo, etc. He made it!
What he saw next confused him, the couple was walking towards a cemetery,
and so he got out of his car and followed...

And he saw a photograph of his girl smiling sweetly as ever at him
from her tombstone and he saw his paper cranes right beside her...

Her parents saw him. He asked them why this had happened. They explained,
she did not leave for France at all. She was ill with cancer.
She had believed that he will make it someday,
but she did not want to be his obstacle, therefore she had chosen to leave him.

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to,
doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.

She had wanted her parents to put his paper cranes beside her, because,
if the day comes when fate brings him to her again,he can take some of those back with him...

Once you have loved, you will always love.
For what's in your mind may escape but what's in your heart will remain forever.

The guy just wept... The worst way to miss someone
is to be sitting right beside her knowing you can't
have her, see her or be with her ever again...

Find time to realize that there is one person who means so much to you,
for you might wake up one morning losing that person
who you thought meant nothing to you...

What Do Angels Look Like?

Like the little old lady who returned your wallet yesterday.

Like the taxi driver who told you that your eyes light up the world, when you smile.

Like the small child who showed you the wonder in simple things.

Like the poor man who offered to share his lunch with you.

Like the rich man who showed you that it really is all possible, if only you believe.

Like the stranger who just happened to come along, when you had lost your way.

Like the friend who touched your heart, when you didn't think you had one.

Angels come in all sizes and shapes, all ages and skin types.

Some with freckles, some with dimples, some with wrinkles, some without.

They come disguised as friends, enemies, teachers, students, lovers and fools.

They don't take life too seriously, they travel light.

They leave no forwarding address, they ask nothing in return.

They are hard to find when your eyes are closed,

but when you choose to see, they are everywhere you look.

So, open you eyes and count all your Angels -- for you are truly blessed!

Basically my purpose of this blog is to share stories!! No matter meaningful ones or whatsoever... Just thought that stories are meant to be shared you know? There. I shall start off...