This Portfolio is going to be focusing on the stories that were not told. Oftentimes when we read stories, questions are left unanswered and the reader wants to know what happened with a particular character or situation, so this Portfolio will give some potential scenarios with a modern twist.
Till Death Do Us Part: A story of a woman who remained faithful and true to her husband when all seemed lost.
My Wife is a Psychopath : A story of a man trying to wrestle with the horrible reality he has found himself in.
The Cycle of the Sun: A story of two unlikely lovers and the secret that separated them.
No Mother Should Have to Bury Her Child : A story of a civil war that tore a family apart.
The Bridge to Heaven : A story of a lonely boy who did the impossible and found hope.
It is hard to pick a favorite story out of my portfolio. Personally, my favorite part of this portfolio is seeing how I changed as a writer from "Till Death Do Us Part" to "The Bridge to Heaven." If you only have time to read one story, then I recommend "The Bridge to Heaven." This story is very personal to me. I used my future mother-in-law as inspiration for the teacher, and I used advice my own mother gave me growing up. I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.
Showing posts with label Portfolio. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Portfolio. Show all posts
Sunday, December 6, 2015
Storytelling Week 12: The Bridge to Heaven
"Good morning, class, please have a seat."
"Good morning, Mrs. Myers."
"Kids, gather round. I want to tell you a story about chasing a dream."
"What is the story called?" said Sally.
"It's called The Bridge to Heaven."
"The story begins with a little boy about your age. He was a very sad little boy," said Mrs. Myers.
"Why was he so sad?"asked Sally.
"Well, Sally, this boy had lost both of his parents in a car accident when he was a baby and was now living in foster care. This boy had a dream. He wanted to see his parents again. One night while he was sleeping, an angel came to his bed and said, 'God has heard your prayers, sweet child. But it will not be easy. Here is what you must do,' and the angel proceeded to tell the boy that he needed to build a bridge to heaven to see his parents again."
"But, Mrs. Myers, that's impossible. How can he build that bridge?" asked Sally.
"Oh, Sally, you ask so many questions, haha. The boy had to find a lot of bricks. He would go to the empty lot next to the foster home and steal bricks from there. As soon as he touched the bricks, they became invisible, so no one would know what he was doing. He also turned invisible while he worked on the bridge."
"Wow," said the whole class in unison.
"He worked on building the bridge for fifteen years. He was twenty when he finally finished it. He was ready to climb the bridge to see his family again. So he climbed for two days and two nights until finally he saw a bright light and a big shiny golden gate. He went to the gate and knocked, 'Excuse me, are my parents here? May I please see them?' the boy said. 'Who are you?' asked the guard. 'I don't know. My parents died when I was so young. I forgot who I really am. That is why I am here to meet them. I want to find out who I am,' replied the boy."
"Did the boy get to meet his parents?" asked Jim.
"Yes, he did. He parents came outside the golden gates and talked with him for many days. He learned a lot of things by talking to his parents. He learned his dad was a scientist and his mom was a heart doctor. They laughed and they cried. But the most important moment for the boy came when his dad said, 'Son, you didn't need us to know who you are. You have known all along who you are. Look at this bridge you built! Look at this big dream you chased, son. You are a dreamer. Go back to earth and chase another dream.' So the boy went back to earth, and he began working to help other kids who had lost parents like he had."
*Ring*
"Okay, kids, time for lunch."
The kids ran out of the room like wild animals. Then Mr. Sim came into Mrs. Myers' room. "Why do you always tell the kids that story?"
"I want them to know that nothing is impossible. All too often we try to tell them what they cannot do. I want them to know that the only thing that defines them is themselves."
Author's Note:
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I really had a lot of fun writing this one. This story is based off the story of the bridge to Lanka from the Ramayana. Crossing the water to Lanka seemed like an impossible task for Rama, but then he was told that a monkey named Nala could make rocks float. So, they were able to build the bridge and cross the water. I refer to this story in two ways: the bridge and the impossibility of the task. I also wanted to focus on dreaming big because I honestly believe people have stopped chasing their dreams. I personally wish people would never stop chasing them. My mom always told me that I could be anything I wanted to be, and I believe her. Building a bridge to heaven to see a loved one really is an impossible task, but luckily in stories we can do the impossible. Unlike the story of the Bridge to Lanka, my character had no help building his bridge. I wanted to show the main character as strong and independent. I also chose a story time setting because I felt like it was an ideal way to share the deeper message of my story. So that is the inspiration behind my story.
Bibliography:
Ramayana by Buck. 1976.
Image Information:
Heaven
"Good morning, Mrs. Myers."
"Kids, gather round. I want to tell you a story about chasing a dream."
"What is the story called?" said Sally.
"It's called The Bridge to Heaven."
"The story begins with a little boy about your age. He was a very sad little boy," said Mrs. Myers.
"Why was he so sad?"asked Sally.
"Well, Sally, this boy had lost both of his parents in a car accident when he was a baby and was now living in foster care. This boy had a dream. He wanted to see his parents again. One night while he was sleeping, an angel came to his bed and said, 'God has heard your prayers, sweet child. But it will not be easy. Here is what you must do,' and the angel proceeded to tell the boy that he needed to build a bridge to heaven to see his parents again."
"But, Mrs. Myers, that's impossible. How can he build that bridge?" asked Sally.
"Oh, Sally, you ask so many questions, haha. The boy had to find a lot of bricks. He would go to the empty lot next to the foster home and steal bricks from there. As soon as he touched the bricks, they became invisible, so no one would know what he was doing. He also turned invisible while he worked on the bridge."
"Wow," said the whole class in unison.
"He worked on building the bridge for fifteen years. He was twenty when he finally finished it. He was ready to climb the bridge to see his family again. So he climbed for two days and two nights until finally he saw a bright light and a big shiny golden gate. He went to the gate and knocked, 'Excuse me, are my parents here? May I please see them?' the boy said. 'Who are you?' asked the guard. 'I don't know. My parents died when I was so young. I forgot who I really am. That is why I am here to meet them. I want to find out who I am,' replied the boy."
"Did the boy get to meet his parents?" asked Jim.
"Yes, he did. He parents came outside the golden gates and talked with him for many days. He learned a lot of things by talking to his parents. He learned his dad was a scientist and his mom was a heart doctor. They laughed and they cried. But the most important moment for the boy came when his dad said, 'Son, you didn't need us to know who you are. You have known all along who you are. Look at this bridge you built! Look at this big dream you chased, son. You are a dreamer. Go back to earth and chase another dream.' So the boy went back to earth, and he began working to help other kids who had lost parents like he had."
*Ring*
"Okay, kids, time for lunch."
The kids ran out of the room like wild animals. Then Mr. Sim came into Mrs. Myers' room. "Why do you always tell the kids that story?"
"I want them to know that nothing is impossible. All too often we try to tell them what they cannot do. I want them to know that the only thing that defines them is themselves."
Author's Note:
Thank you for taking the time to read my story. I really had a lot of fun writing this one. This story is based off the story of the bridge to Lanka from the Ramayana. Crossing the water to Lanka seemed like an impossible task for Rama, but then he was told that a monkey named Nala could make rocks float. So, they were able to build the bridge and cross the water. I refer to this story in two ways: the bridge and the impossibility of the task. I also wanted to focus on dreaming big because I honestly believe people have stopped chasing their dreams. I personally wish people would never stop chasing them. My mom always told me that I could be anything I wanted to be, and I believe her. Building a bridge to heaven to see a loved one really is an impossible task, but luckily in stories we can do the impossible. Unlike the story of the Bridge to Lanka, my character had no help building his bridge. I wanted to show the main character as strong and independent. I also chose a story time setting because I felt like it was an ideal way to share the deeper message of my story. So that is the inspiration behind my story.
Bibliography:
Ramayana by Buck. 1976.
Image Information:
Heaven
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Storytelling Week 9: No Mother Should Have to Bury Her Child
Dear Daily Gazette,
No mother should have to bury her child. Can you think of anything more tragic? Children should always outlive both of their parents. This is the natural order, but sometimes war happens. Sometimes war destroys the natural order. Today I had a memorial for my son.
I gave birth to six beautiful boys. They were all perfectly healthy and very strong. My eldest was the most ambitious, so he moved to the North to be a big business man. My other five sons remained down here in the South with me, although they all moved to different states. I've got one in South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Mississippi, and Texas. If I were to be completely honest, I never wanted my eldest to go to the North. We do things differently here in the South, and I didn't think that he would adjust well to life up there. I was afraid he would change, but through his letters I learned that he really did enjoy living in the North. He had found his new home.
I got six letters when this stupid war began from my sons telling me that they were going to war. The problem was I couldn't take a side. I know I live in the South and I should side with the South, but my eldest was fighting for the North. How can I be against one my sons?
A letter came in the mail about a month ago. It was from a man I didn't know, but he said he knew my son. He told me my eldest son was dead. He was so young. He didn't deserve to die. Growing up he was the sweetest little boy and he was so good to his younger brothers. You see, I lost my husband after my last son was born so my eldest had to step up and be there for his brothers. I would have freed all my slaves willingly if it could have prevented the war. Some people tell me that I am lucky because I still have five other healthy sons. That doesn't make the loss of my eldest easier. No mother should have to bury her son.
The memorial was beautiful. I buried a box of all his favorite things as a kid in the backyard of our home. It's a miracle we still have this house, but that's a story for another time. All of his brothers came down for this event because they loved their brother. In the end those Southern boys and now dead Northern boy were still family.
This is the reason why I am writing this letter. To hopefully remind a few of you Southerners that the North is still our family. The United States are just that, united. I know you will call me unpatriotic for saying this, but the dead never die in vain. Really they were both fighting for unity, just two different kinds. Brothers and Sisters, it is time to be a family again.
Let us be kind to our Northern brothers staying here in the South. Let us open our doors and show them warmth. Let us bury our dead in pride. Let us be stronger than we have ever been and unite with the North. We lost the war, but we still have hope for another day.
Sincerely,
A Mother
Author's Note:
So today I decided to explore the idea of a mother having to bury their child after a war. This sadly is a scenario that has been faced throughout history. I feel like it is an incredibly relatable topic, and a sad one at that. I was inspired by the death of Karna, who was the son of Surya and Kunti. He is a brother of the Pandavas, but not a Pandava himself. This is a story from the Mahabharata. I know in the Civil War family members were fighting family members, so I wanted to place my story in this time frame. I wanted to explore the emotions that a mother might have felt if she had sons fighting on both sides. Although I do not know if a mother had sons fighting on both sides, I believe it is highly likely. I enjoyed writing this story, but it was also hard to write. It was hard to give voice to something that I have no personal experience with. It was hard to find the words to use to express that much pain. War is such a horrible reality. I hope you enjoy my story and the emotion behind it.
Bibliography: Peter Brook's Mahabharata 1989
No mother should have to bury her child. Can you think of anything more tragic? Children should always outlive both of their parents. This is the natural order, but sometimes war happens. Sometimes war destroys the natural order. Today I had a memorial for my son.
I gave birth to six beautiful boys. They were all perfectly healthy and very strong. My eldest was the most ambitious, so he moved to the North to be a big business man. My other five sons remained down here in the South with me, although they all moved to different states. I've got one in South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Mississippi, and Texas. If I were to be completely honest, I never wanted my eldest to go to the North. We do things differently here in the South, and I didn't think that he would adjust well to life up there. I was afraid he would change, but through his letters I learned that he really did enjoy living in the North. He had found his new home.
I got six letters when this stupid war began from my sons telling me that they were going to war. The problem was I couldn't take a side. I know I live in the South and I should side with the South, but my eldest was fighting for the North. How can I be against one my sons?
A letter came in the mail about a month ago. It was from a man I didn't know, but he said he knew my son. He told me my eldest son was dead. He was so young. He didn't deserve to die. Growing up he was the sweetest little boy and he was so good to his younger brothers. You see, I lost my husband after my last son was born so my eldest had to step up and be there for his brothers. I would have freed all my slaves willingly if it could have prevented the war. Some people tell me that I am lucky because I still have five other healthy sons. That doesn't make the loss of my eldest easier. No mother should have to bury her son.
The memorial was beautiful. I buried a box of all his favorite things as a kid in the backyard of our home. It's a miracle we still have this house, but that's a story for another time. All of his brothers came down for this event because they loved their brother. In the end those Southern boys and now dead Northern boy were still family.
This is the reason why I am writing this letter. To hopefully remind a few of you Southerners that the North is still our family. The United States are just that, united. I know you will call me unpatriotic for saying this, but the dead never die in vain. Really they were both fighting for unity, just two different kinds. Brothers and Sisters, it is time to be a family again.
Let us be kind to our Northern brothers staying here in the South. Let us open our doors and show them warmth. Let us bury our dead in pride. Let us be stronger than we have ever been and unite with the North. We lost the war, but we still have hope for another day.
Sincerely,
A Mother
Author's Note:
So today I decided to explore the idea of a mother having to bury their child after a war. This sadly is a scenario that has been faced throughout history. I feel like it is an incredibly relatable topic, and a sad one at that. I was inspired by the death of Karna, who was the son of Surya and Kunti. He is a brother of the Pandavas, but not a Pandava himself. This is a story from the Mahabharata. I know in the Civil War family members were fighting family members, so I wanted to place my story in this time frame. I wanted to explore the emotions that a mother might have felt if she had sons fighting on both sides. Although I do not know if a mother had sons fighting on both sides, I believe it is highly likely. I enjoyed writing this story, but it was also hard to write. It was hard to give voice to something that I have no personal experience with. It was hard to find the words to use to express that much pain. War is such a horrible reality. I hope you enjoy my story and the emotion behind it.
Picture Info: Civil War
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Storytelling Week 7: The Cycle of the Sun
She was outside of her comfort zone and was somewhere she wouldn't normally have been: a party. She was a bookworm to say the least. Her friends had forced her to come out for the night because they believed she needed to socialize and meet new people. Needless to say, she wasn't having a good time. Everyone was incredibly intoxicated, and then someone spilt booze all over her shirt. That's when she saw him standing in the corner. He was tall and well built like a steady oak tree. He had dark features but his eyes radiated like the sun. He was also handsome, and in her mind he was way too handsome to talk to her. But then he did.
He came right up to her, looked her in the eye and introduced himself. "My name is James." His voice was deep and almost poetic.
"My name is Carol," she replied.
James and Carol spent the night making fun of all the drunk kids and had a wonderful time together.
"It's almost morning. I'm going to need to leave to go get some sleep," Carol said.
"Let me walk you home," James said.
James walked Carol home. They stopped for a moment on the beach to admire the rising sun. They embraced the warmth of its colors. The reds and oranges washed over their bodies and became to brighten the blues in the sky.
"This is beauty," Carol said.
"Yes, it is," James said, looking right at her.
James and Carol spent the next week at each other's side. Completely inseparable. Some might say they had fallen in love. But there was one problem.
"I'm not a student," James said.
"What do you mean?" Carol said, as she took another sip of her coffee.
"I'm not a student. I lied to you to make you like me. Truth is I'm not from here. I'm the son of a sailor. I leave port tomorrow to return to Ireland. I didn't want to lie to you, but I'm just a sailor. How could someone like you ever like me?"
"James, I don't care what you are or where you are from. Let me come with you. Let me be with you. I'd give it all up for you."
"No, Carol, you can't. I can't have you give up your dreams. This is your life. Mine is on the ocean."
Carol looked him in the eyes but didn't know what to say. After a few long moments she said, "I need to go home now."
James replied, "Let me walk you home one last time."
As they walked home the sun began to set. They stopped for a moment to reflect on everything that they had shared that past week. The reds and oranges began to sink beneath the ground and the darkness of night overtook it. They said goodbye and knew they would never meet again.
The next day James woke before the sun rose. He knew his dad would want to set sail before the day truly began. He put on his sea-worn robes and headed to the dock. As they pulled away from the dock, James faced the direction where sun was supposed to rise. He waited to see the red and orange. He wanted to feel the warmth of the sun like that first sun rise with Carol. But it never came. It was cloudy day that day. And the sun was hidden behind the clouds and all James saw was grey.
Author's Note:
So although this might be a stretch, I was inspired by the story of Hidimbi and Bhima. Bhima is one of the five brothers in the Mahabharata. A rakshasa sends his sister Hidimbi to kill them, but instead she falls in love. She changes from her true form into a beautiful woman. They get married, have a son, but then she leaves to another world. I wanted to write about an encounter like this. I wanted to explore the idea of two people meeting, quickly falling in love, one hiding their true identity, and then they are forced to leave to the separate life that they know. I'm in a Spanish literature class right now and we have read a lot of stories that focus on color, so I decided to really focus this story on the sun and the colors it brings. I have learned in my Spanish class that color can really bring a lot of emotions forward, so I wanted to experiment with that. I had a lot of fun writing this story. Focusing on an inanimate object as a source for inspiration is something I haven't done before, so I enjoyed experimenting. I hope you enjoy my story!
Bibliography: Peter Brook's Mahabharata 1989
Picture Information:
1. Sunrise Wikimedia Commons
2. Sunset Wikimedia Commons
3. Grey Sky Pixabay
He came right up to her, looked her in the eye and introduced himself. "My name is James." His voice was deep and almost poetic.
"My name is Carol," she replied.
James and Carol spent the night making fun of all the drunk kids and had a wonderful time together.
"It's almost morning. I'm going to need to leave to go get some sleep," Carol said.
"Let me walk you home," James said.
James walked Carol home. They stopped for a moment on the beach to admire the rising sun. They embraced the warmth of its colors. The reds and oranges washed over their bodies and became to brighten the blues in the sky.
"This is beauty," Carol said.
"Yes, it is," James said, looking right at her.
James and Carol spent the next week at each other's side. Completely inseparable. Some might say they had fallen in love. But there was one problem.
"I'm not a student," James said.
"What do you mean?" Carol said, as she took another sip of her coffee.
"I'm not a student. I lied to you to make you like me. Truth is I'm not from here. I'm the son of a sailor. I leave port tomorrow to return to Ireland. I didn't want to lie to you, but I'm just a sailor. How could someone like you ever like me?"
"James, I don't care what you are or where you are from. Let me come with you. Let me be with you. I'd give it all up for you."
"No, Carol, you can't. I can't have you give up your dreams. This is your life. Mine is on the ocean."
Carol looked him in the eyes but didn't know what to say. After a few long moments she said, "I need to go home now."
James replied, "Let me walk you home one last time."
As they walked home the sun began to set. They stopped for a moment to reflect on everything that they had shared that past week. The reds and oranges began to sink beneath the ground and the darkness of night overtook it. They said goodbye and knew they would never meet again.
The next day James woke before the sun rose. He knew his dad would want to set sail before the day truly began. He put on his sea-worn robes and headed to the dock. As they pulled away from the dock, James faced the direction where sun was supposed to rise. He waited to see the red and orange. He wanted to feel the warmth of the sun like that first sun rise with Carol. But it never came. It was cloudy day that day. And the sun was hidden behind the clouds and all James saw was grey.
So although this might be a stretch, I was inspired by the story of Hidimbi and Bhima. Bhima is one of the five brothers in the Mahabharata. A rakshasa sends his sister Hidimbi to kill them, but instead she falls in love. She changes from her true form into a beautiful woman. They get married, have a son, but then she leaves to another world. I wanted to write about an encounter like this. I wanted to explore the idea of two people meeting, quickly falling in love, one hiding their true identity, and then they are forced to leave to the separate life that they know. I'm in a Spanish literature class right now and we have read a lot of stories that focus on color, so I decided to really focus this story on the sun and the colors it brings. I have learned in my Spanish class that color can really bring a lot of emotions forward, so I wanted to experiment with that. I had a lot of fun writing this story. Focusing on an inanimate object as a source for inspiration is something I haven't done before, so I enjoyed experimenting. I hope you enjoy my story!
Bibliography: Peter Brook's Mahabharata 1989
Picture Information:
1. Sunrise Wikimedia Commons
2. Sunset Wikimedia Commons
3. Grey Sky Pixabay
Thursday, September 24, 2015
Storytelling for Week 5: My Wife is a Psychopath
"Hello, you must be Mr. Shantanu. My name is Dr. Smith, and my speciality is relationship counseling. How my I help you?"
Mr. Shantanu looked the doctor straight in the eye and said, "I am married to a psychopath."
Mr. Shantanu didn't plan on marrying a psychopath, but I guess no one ever does. When the new client said this, Dr. Smith didn't know whether he should believe Mr. Shantanu or not. Mr. Shantanu had all the physical signs that he was telling the truth. He wasn't fidgeting, sweating, or avoiding eye contact, but his story just seemed too strange to be real.
"Well, Doc, a couple of years ago I lived in this old log cabin. It was a beautiful place, but I had to always go out and get fire wood. One day while I was cutting firewood I saw a beautiful woman. She didn't seem like she was from this world because she was so beautiful."
"What did you do?" Dr. Smith asked.
"What another young man would do if he saw a pretty girl. I walked right up and introduced myself. She looked at me and said, 'I'm not interested in formalities such as these. What is it exactly that you want?' I replied by saying, 'I want you and nothing but you for the rest of my life.' I was so nervous about what she would say next."
"What did she say next?" The doctor questioned.
"She said, 'Fine, I will marry you, but you must promise to never question what I do.' I was completely shocked because I didn't formally propose, but, hey, she agreed to marry me. Needless to say, I was thrilled. So thrilled, in fact, that I didn't think twice about her rule."
"I don't see what the problem is in your relationship. Her rule is indeed strange, but some woman enjoy their privacy."
"I'm not done yet, Doc. I honestly forgot her promise she made me make. After the honeymoon phase of our relationship was over and life began, I remembered her promise. I couldn't think of a reason why she would say such a thing. During those first few month of marriage I hadn't seen anything that was worth questioning her about. She was normal. In fact, she was wonderful."
Dr. Smith sat intently, but he still wasn't able to see what the problem was in his client's marriage. His client continued, "She became pregnant and I was thrilled. I had always wanted children, and I knew she was going to be a wonderful mother. We endured the pregnancy together and were so happy. Then she gave birth to an absolutely stunning child."
Mr. Shantanu shed a tear of joy as he remembered this joyful time. "This was the happiest day of my life. But I had been up all night during the child birth and decided to take a nap. When I woke up I found my wife sleeping peacefully and the baby missing. I woke her and said, 'Hey, sweetheart, where is our child?' 'In the river,' she said. I was completely shocked. Before I could start questioning her further, she added, 'You promised not to question me. You must stay true to your word. Our child is dead and there shall be no more questions about it.' That's all she had to say."
The doctor was completely silent. He looked at Mr. Shantanu, but didn't have the words to say.
"I just kept wondering who was this woman I married? I mean how could she kill our own child? She seemed so lovely. I just don't understand how something like this could happen. But there is nothing I can do. My firstborn is gone."
It took a few minutes for Mr. Shantanu to compose himself before he continued. "This has happened six other times, Doc. Every time she gives birth, she gets up, takes the child to the river, drowns them and then returns with a smile on her face. But there is nothing I can do about it. I promised I wouldn't question her. Now she is pregnant with our eighth child and I don't want to see this happen again."
The doctor looked him in the eyes and gave him sincere advice. "Mr. Shantanu, this is a problem I have never faced before. I am almost speechless. Clearly we have a lot to unpack with this situation. But for starters, sir, your wife is a murderer. We need to address this issue first in the concern of your eighth child. You and I have doctor-patient confidentiality, so I can't report your wife's behavior. Mr. Shantanu, you need to begin thinking about how turning your wife into the police might be your only way to save your eighth child."
Mr. Shantanu was silent for a few moments then said, "Well, Doc, I'm not sure I can do that yet. But I'll go home and think about it and see you next week."
Author's Note:
This was a story that was briefly told in the Mahabharata. In my opinion, the story was too brief. I wanted to know more about this story, especially how King Shantanu was handling the situation, so I decided to explore the emotions of King Shantanu. Instead of calling him King I decided to call him Mister in order to place him in a more modern time frame. This story isn't a situation that we see in our modern time, but I think that adds to the suspense of the story. I also think it adds to his feeling that his wife is a psychopath. But I also wanted to stay fairly true to the original story. In the original story this "crazy woman" was a goddess named Ganga. She became incarnate as a human to help the Vasus, gods who are punished to be born as humans. She helped them by killing them as soon as they were born, but her husband was kept in the dark about all this. I didn't want to add a lot of glitz and glam, just focus on the emotion part of it. That is why I wanted to bring in a counselor. They focus on people's emotions so I thought that would be a good way to help focus my story. Overall, this story was a lot of fun to write and I really enjoyed exploring the emotions. Instead of focusing on the main story of the Mahabharata, I focused on a smaller story and tried to expand on it.
Bibliography:
The Mahabharata by R.K. Narayan Web Source: Reading Guide
Picture:
River Web source: Wikimedia Commons
Mr. Shantanu looked the doctor straight in the eye and said, "I am married to a psychopath."
Mr. Shantanu didn't plan on marrying a psychopath, but I guess no one ever does. When the new client said this, Dr. Smith didn't know whether he should believe Mr. Shantanu or not. Mr. Shantanu had all the physical signs that he was telling the truth. He wasn't fidgeting, sweating, or avoiding eye contact, but his story just seemed too strange to be real.
"Well, Doc, a couple of years ago I lived in this old log cabin. It was a beautiful place, but I had to always go out and get fire wood. One day while I was cutting firewood I saw a beautiful woman. She didn't seem like she was from this world because she was so beautiful."
"What did you do?" Dr. Smith asked.
"What another young man would do if he saw a pretty girl. I walked right up and introduced myself. She looked at me and said, 'I'm not interested in formalities such as these. What is it exactly that you want?' I replied by saying, 'I want you and nothing but you for the rest of my life.' I was so nervous about what she would say next."
"What did she say next?" The doctor questioned.
"She said, 'Fine, I will marry you, but you must promise to never question what I do.' I was completely shocked because I didn't formally propose, but, hey, she agreed to marry me. Needless to say, I was thrilled. So thrilled, in fact, that I didn't think twice about her rule."
"I don't see what the problem is in your relationship. Her rule is indeed strange, but some woman enjoy their privacy."
"I'm not done yet, Doc. I honestly forgot her promise she made me make. After the honeymoon phase of our relationship was over and life began, I remembered her promise. I couldn't think of a reason why she would say such a thing. During those first few month of marriage I hadn't seen anything that was worth questioning her about. She was normal. In fact, she was wonderful."
Dr. Smith sat intently, but he still wasn't able to see what the problem was in his client's marriage. His client continued, "She became pregnant and I was thrilled. I had always wanted children, and I knew she was going to be a wonderful mother. We endured the pregnancy together and were so happy. Then she gave birth to an absolutely stunning child."
Mr. Shantanu shed a tear of joy as he remembered this joyful time. "This was the happiest day of my life. But I had been up all night during the child birth and decided to take a nap. When I woke up I found my wife sleeping peacefully and the baby missing. I woke her and said, 'Hey, sweetheart, where is our child?' 'In the river,' she said. I was completely shocked. Before I could start questioning her further, she added, 'You promised not to question me. You must stay true to your word. Our child is dead and there shall be no more questions about it.' That's all she had to say."
"I just kept wondering who was this woman I married? I mean how could she kill our own child? She seemed so lovely. I just don't understand how something like this could happen. But there is nothing I can do. My firstborn is gone."
It took a few minutes for Mr. Shantanu to compose himself before he continued. "This has happened six other times, Doc. Every time she gives birth, she gets up, takes the child to the river, drowns them and then returns with a smile on her face. But there is nothing I can do about it. I promised I wouldn't question her. Now she is pregnant with our eighth child and I don't want to see this happen again."
The doctor looked him in the eyes and gave him sincere advice. "Mr. Shantanu, this is a problem I have never faced before. I am almost speechless. Clearly we have a lot to unpack with this situation. But for starters, sir, your wife is a murderer. We need to address this issue first in the concern of your eighth child. You and I have doctor-patient confidentiality, so I can't report your wife's behavior. Mr. Shantanu, you need to begin thinking about how turning your wife into the police might be your only way to save your eighth child."
Mr. Shantanu was silent for a few moments then said, "Well, Doc, I'm not sure I can do that yet. But I'll go home and think about it and see you next week."
Author's Note:
This was a story that was briefly told in the Mahabharata. In my opinion, the story was too brief. I wanted to know more about this story, especially how King Shantanu was handling the situation, so I decided to explore the emotions of King Shantanu. Instead of calling him King I decided to call him Mister in order to place him in a more modern time frame. This story isn't a situation that we see in our modern time, but I think that adds to the suspense of the story. I also think it adds to his feeling that his wife is a psychopath. But I also wanted to stay fairly true to the original story. In the original story this "crazy woman" was a goddess named Ganga. She became incarnate as a human to help the Vasus, gods who are punished to be born as humans. She helped them by killing them as soon as they were born, but her husband was kept in the dark about all this. I didn't want to add a lot of glitz and glam, just focus on the emotion part of it. That is why I wanted to bring in a counselor. They focus on people's emotions so I thought that would be a good way to help focus my story. Overall, this story was a lot of fun to write and I really enjoyed exploring the emotions. Instead of focusing on the main story of the Mahabharata, I focused on a smaller story and tried to expand on it.
Bibliography:
The Mahabharata by R.K. Narayan Web Source: Reading Guide
Picture:
River Web source: Wikimedia Commons
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Storytelling for Week 3: Till Death Do Us Part
It has been three months since my captors stole me from my love. I honestly didn't think I would make it this long. I remember it all very clearly. My husband and I were walking in the woods. This isn't something I would normally do. I personally dislike the outdoors, but he felt like we needed to get some fresh air. He loves being outside and I love my husband, so of course I went with him on this walk. I remember we stopped at a gas station to get some water and then we embarked on our walk. We were barely into our walk and before I knew it my husband was on the ground bleeding. The thought of it still makes me sick. Before I could even think about screaming for help darkness overcame me.
I don't know how long I was unconscious. I remember gaining consciousness and hysterically crying out for help. I began processing my environment. I was sitting in a dark room and sitting on something hard. I thought that I was dead and that maybe this was what death felt like. But then I noticed a light coming out of a corner of the room and then it slowly began to grow larger.
"I know you probably hate me for what I have done, but trust me. I promise this is for your own good," a voice said. It sounded familiar.
"Who are you?" I asked.
Then a man walked in the room. I remembered his eyes. "You are the man from the gas station. You held the door open for my husband and me as we walked in. What have you done to me? Where is my husband?"
He then explained how he had fallen uncontrollably in love with me as he saw me. I mean I have read the fairy tales so I know about this whole myth of "love at first sight," but that's all it is - a myth. He then proceeded to promise me the moon and the stars. Everything I could ever want he would give to me, if only I would agree to marry him. I refused.
This was three months ago. Three months! I thought by now the FBI or CSI or Superman would have found me. But no. Every day that man comes in here and brings lavish gifts. He hasn't relented. I think he is determined to continue this until I submit. But what does he expect! He kidnapped me and potentially killed my husband.
I have no idea if my husband is even alive. Do you know what that feels like? Hopeless. It feels hopeless. What am I doing holding out for someone who might be dead? God I hope he's dead. Because if he is alive, it looks like he gave up on me. Maybe he thinks I'm dead. Maybe I should be dead. What's the point of continuing? It clearly hasn't gotten me anywhere.
"Psssssst Aria... psssssst Aria," someone was whispering from the corner of the room where the tiny bit of light shines through.
"Hello, yes, I am here."
Silence.
As I walk toward the tiny glimmer of light, I see something sparkling on the floor. I bend down to pick it up and I recognize it immediately. It's my husband's wedding ring with a note attached to it.
"Till death do us part. I'm coming."
Author's Note:
This week I spent a lot of time thinking about what it must have been like for Sita to wait for Rama in The Ramayana . As readers we often don't realize how much time has passed in between the major events of the story. She went months without any sign that he would be coming for her, but she still remained faithful. When I was reading this I wasn't sure how she even survived. I wanted to show the strength of Sita and her faithfulness. Although we won't know for sure what Sita went through, it is still fun to experiment with the possibilities. This story was very easy to write and it was outside my comfort zone but I really enjoyed it. I didn't include a lot of dialogue because I wanted to focus on the thought process of Sita. I also wanted to add a modern twist to the story. It is fun to place stories in a different time frame and play with the situation and the characters themselves. In a way, it is showing how timeless the Ramayana is. Set in modern times, it is still a fascinating story that can be enjoyed. Sita is a less defined story in the book, so she was an easy one to mold and play with.
Bibliography:
"The Ramayana" by R.K. Narayan (2006)
Image Information:
Ghost Light Web Source: Wikipedia
I don't know how long I was unconscious. I remember gaining consciousness and hysterically crying out for help. I began processing my environment. I was sitting in a dark room and sitting on something hard. I thought that I was dead and that maybe this was what death felt like. But then I noticed a light coming out of a corner of the room and then it slowly began to grow larger.
"Who are you?" I asked.
Then a man walked in the room. I remembered his eyes. "You are the man from the gas station. You held the door open for my husband and me as we walked in. What have you done to me? Where is my husband?"
He then explained how he had fallen uncontrollably in love with me as he saw me. I mean I have read the fairy tales so I know about this whole myth of "love at first sight," but that's all it is - a myth. He then proceeded to promise me the moon and the stars. Everything I could ever want he would give to me, if only I would agree to marry him. I refused.
This was three months ago. Three months! I thought by now the FBI or CSI or Superman would have found me. But no. Every day that man comes in here and brings lavish gifts. He hasn't relented. I think he is determined to continue this until I submit. But what does he expect! He kidnapped me and potentially killed my husband.
I have no idea if my husband is even alive. Do you know what that feels like? Hopeless. It feels hopeless. What am I doing holding out for someone who might be dead? God I hope he's dead. Because if he is alive, it looks like he gave up on me. Maybe he thinks I'm dead. Maybe I should be dead. What's the point of continuing? It clearly hasn't gotten me anywhere.
"Psssssst Aria... psssssst Aria," someone was whispering from the corner of the room where the tiny bit of light shines through.
"Hello, yes, I am here."
Silence.
As I walk toward the tiny glimmer of light, I see something sparkling on the floor. I bend down to pick it up and I recognize it immediately. It's my husband's wedding ring with a note attached to it.
"Till death do us part. I'm coming."
Author's Note:
This week I spent a lot of time thinking about what it must have been like for Sita to wait for Rama in The Ramayana . As readers we often don't realize how much time has passed in between the major events of the story. She went months without any sign that he would be coming for her, but she still remained faithful. When I was reading this I wasn't sure how she even survived. I wanted to show the strength of Sita and her faithfulness. Although we won't know for sure what Sita went through, it is still fun to experiment with the possibilities. This story was very easy to write and it was outside my comfort zone but I really enjoyed it. I didn't include a lot of dialogue because I wanted to focus on the thought process of Sita. I also wanted to add a modern twist to the story. It is fun to place stories in a different time frame and play with the situation and the characters themselves. In a way, it is showing how timeless the Ramayana is. Set in modern times, it is still a fascinating story that can be enjoyed. Sita is a less defined story in the book, so she was an easy one to mold and play with.
Bibliography:
"The Ramayana" by R.K. Narayan (2006)
Image Information:
Ghost Light Web Source: Wikipedia
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