Mythology and Folklore

Polyphemus growled slightly to himself as he walked back to the cave he had made into his home. It had been a long day. Everything on the island was provided by the gods—the sheep, the fish in the ocean surrounding them, the drinkable water, the fertile soil, the shelters. However, the upkeep needed to live off those things was done by the Cyclopses’ themselves. Today, Polyphemus had been helping one of the other Cyclops’ mend fishing nets, and his hands still ached from the labor. He flexed and then extended his fingers, trying to get the muscles to relax. Then, a few of the sheep that belonged in Polyphemus’ flock had veered away from the others for no discernible reason. Polyphemus had had to chase them down, and even though he was a Cyclops (and thus, a giant), traipsing all over the island cliffs for hours was not his idea of fun. After he had finally herded the sheep who had veered away back to the larger flock, one of the younger Cyclopses had done something while trying to make

Bibliography:  The Chinese Fairy Book , ed. by R. Wilhelm and translated by Frederick H. Martens (1921). The Little Hunting Dog There once was a man who did not like to be surrounded by others. He moved into a temple, only to be plagued by gnats and fleas. One night, two knights on horses rode in, only they were two inches tall and their horses were the size of grasshoppers. They had hunting falcons and hunting dogs with them. The falcons ate the gnats and the dogs ate the fleas. When the knights left, they left one hunting dog, which stayed with the man until one day it died and became as flat as paper. Fox-Fire There was a young farmer walking home when he saw a glowing ball being tossed up and down. Moving towards it, he saw a fox blowing it up in the air. The farmer stole the ball, as it was the elixir of life, and swallowed it. Because of this, he was able to interact with the spirit world, call people out of comas, and see the dead. One day, after thirty years of earning money

 I am pretty happy with my progress in this class so far. I am most proud of my re-tellings of the myths. I tend to get overwhelmed and skip the Tuesday Readings, so I need to change the days I do those. The assignments I enjoy the most are the ones related to the Storybook I am doing. Once that is finished, I think that I will be very proud of that assignment. I definitely need to change the days I have allocated for the Tuesday Readings. I also want to start getting assignments done in advance.                                                             Take a Moment and Breathe

 The feedback I am finding to be most useful is the feedback that critiques something within my writing. Questions, comments about grammar, etc., are all extremely helpful. They allow me to become a better writer. I feel like I am leaving pretty good comments. I always point out something that I like, something I have a question about, and then something I think they could improve on. I am pretty happy with my introduction post. I think it reflects that I was unsure about how to introduce myself to people who are probably only ever going to know me through a computer.                                                                       Feedback Image I chose this image because feedback has almost come to be seen as a bad thing. Feedback is not meant to put you down or make you feel bad about yourself, it is meant to make you think and help you to improve your craft. 

                                                                               Brer Fox      Brer Fox was ambling down the path toward his home. He paused when he heard Brer Frog croaking about another Fox by the river. Intrigued, Brer Fox rushed toward the embankment, nearly falling when he tripped over thin air in his excitement. Brer Fox caught sight of another Fox below the surface of the river! He moved to try to pull the other Fox up, but the ripples from the water Brer Fox displaced made it hard to see the other Fox. Eventually, after trying several times to pull the other Fox up out of the river, Brer Fox settled in the sand at the bank of the river. He could wait until the other Fox decided they were ready to come out. Only, Brer Fox had underestimated the how boring waiting would be. Brer Fox determined that he would go back home, get a few of his books and some food, and then return. Maybe the smell of the food would help encourage the other Fox to come out! Brer Fox rose an

 Bibliography: Uncle Remus: His Songs and His Sayings  by Joel Chandler Harris (1881). Mr. Fox and the Deceitful Frogs Brer Fox finds his reflection and is captivated. Brer Fox dips his paw in, overbalances, and falls in. He manages to scramble out though. Reminds me of the story of Narcissus a little bit, and how Narcissus was cursed to fall in love with himself and stare at his reflection until he died.                Old Mr. Rabbit, He’s a Good Fisherman Brer Rabbit, Brer Fox, Brer Bear (say that ten times fast!), and Brer Coon are working hard. Brer Rabbit gets tired, gets a sticker in his paw, and decides to rest. He finds a well, and in that well is a bucket, which he decides to lay down in. Only after he gets in the bucket, it starts descending. Brer Fox sees this and determines that Brer Rabbit has found a gold mine or has buried treasure down there. Brer Rabbit tells Brer Fox there are fish in the well, and to jump in the other bucket so he can help haul the fish up.

 Microfiction seems like it would be difficult, mainly because you have to be extremely concise with your language. I think if I were to write microficiton, I would start out with a regular story, whittle it down to like, three hundred to five hundred words, and then go from there. I think doing that would be the easiest way. The most heartbreaking example of microfiction I can think of is that six word story—For sale: baby shoes, never worn. I think everyone knows that example. I did not touch the two sentence horror stories, mainly because I would probably freak myself out and not be able to sleep tonight.  My favorite microfiction (so far!) is the tiny love stories. There were some very poignant ones about learning how to love people in quarantine, either because you have been drifting apart in recent years, or because you had just moved in together.                                                                 Love

Bibliography: The Arabian Nights' Entertainments by Andrew Lang, illustrated by H. J. Ford (1898). Scheherazade volunteers to be married to a Sultan who is killing his wife every morning. Her sister, Dinarzade, is sleeping in the same room as her and her new husband. Before the sun rises, Dinarzade wakes Scheherazade and asks her to tell a story. Scheherazade tells the story of a merchant who sits to eat dates and throws rocks around as he is doing so. Afterwards, he washes his hands and face in the fountain. A genius (genie) rushes up to him, ready to kill the merchant as he says the merchant killed his son. The merchant falls upon the ground, begging for mercy. Here, Scheherazade stops her story. The Sultan allows her to live so he can hear the rest of the story, thinking that he can always kill her tomorrow. The next morning, Dinarzade wakes Scheherazade and asks her to finish her story. Scheherazade continues. The merchant asks for a change to go home and bid h