Pirate treasure

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Once upon a time there was a terrible pirate named Captain Stumpy who thought he was the scariest pirate to ever sail the seven seas.   He was meaner than the meanest bully and greedier than the greediest miser.  He woke up in the morning and started stealing before breakfast and he didn’t stop murdering until he went to bed at night.  He had heaps of treasure stored in chests on his ship and he never, ever shared any of it with anyone.

Then one day, after a particularly fierce battle, in which he sunk an unsuspecting ship after carrying off two big trunks of gold, he tried to sail away with an evil laugh as usual.  But he couldn’t.  His ship wouldn’t move even an inch.  Captain Stumpy could see the wind blowing and the sails getting bigger and bigger.  But the ship didn’t budge.  Captain Stumpy got red in the face.  He cursed and yelled and jumped up in down in anger.  But none of that helped the ship move at all.  The truth could not be denied.  The ship was too heavy.  All that treasure that Captain Stumpy had stolen was weighing it down.   He tried to lighten the load by throwing all his crew into the sea, but it wasn’t enough.  So finally, Captain Stumpy loaded four great chests full of treasure and put them in a little boat and rowed them over to a deserted island to find a place to hide them.  Captain Stumpy went all the way to the middle of the island and dug a big hole.  Then he put all four chests into the hole and covered them over with dirt.  Then Captain Stumpy sailed away to steal some more, and he was happy.  He knew that no one would ever find that buried treasure.

He was wrong.

What Captain Stumpy didn’t know was that a few weeks before there had a been a shipwreck near that island.  A shipwreck with only one survivor, a little boy named John.  John had been living alone on that island, eating fish and coconuts and sleeping under the stars.  When he saw Captain Stumpy coming, he thought he was going to be rescued.  When he saw the black eye patch and the wooden leg and realized who had landed on his island, he was very afraid and hid himself behind some rocks.  Still, he spied and saw where Captain Stumpy buried that treasure, and when the pirate was long gone, he went and dug up that treasure and laughed and laughed because now he had enough gold pieces to fill a bathtub but not one place to spend them.

For a whole year, John lived on that island with that treasure before one day a ship came along and rescued him and took him back to the town where he lived.  John showed the captain of the ship the pirate treasure swore him to secrecy, and they agreed that half of it would belong to the captain and the other half to John, so that when John finally came home to his aunt and uncle’s house, he had four great chests of gold with him.  John and his aunt and uncle were scared to tell anyone about the treasure.  They were afraid that bad people might try to steal it or worst of all that Captain Stumpy might hear about it and come looking for John.  So instead of buying a big house and new clothes and expensive food, they kept the treasure hidden in a closet and only bought things they needed.  And anytime someone in their town fell on hard times or had a special need, John would take a little treasure from the chests and see to it that the person got whatever they needed.

No one ever knew where the money came from until one day when a young washerwoman was in the house washing clothes and she accidentally opened the closet where the chests were kept.  She saw the big wooden chests with their iron bindings and she saw the mark of Captain Stumpy on the their lids.  The washerwoman didn’t mean to do any harm; she never meant to talk about the chests, but she couldn’t help but tell her very best friend.  That friend told just one more friend, and that friend just one more friend, and before long the rumor had been spread that young John had a house full of pirate treasure stolen from Captain Stumpy.

When Captain Stumpy heard this rumor, you can guess how furious he was.  He immediately rushed to the deserted island to check on his treasure, and when he found it was missing, he went into such a rage as has never been seen before.  He stomped his feet.  He screamed and wailed.  He hacked at trees with his pirate sword.  He pulled out tufts of his beard.  That last bit hurt quite a lot, and that calmed him down just a little.  Then he jumped onto his ship and sailed as fast as he could to the town where John lived.  It didn’t take him long to find John’s house, and when he got there, he cried out in a terrible pirate voice, “AAAAAARRRRRGH!  Where is the boy who dared to steal treasure from Captain Stumpy?  Come out and show yourself!”

Everyone on the street heard him yelling, and everyone quailed with fear and hid inside their houses.  But young John was very brave.  He sent his aunt and uncle out the back door to safety and slowly went out alone to meet Captain Stumpy.

When Captain Stumpy saw how young the boy John was, he was angrier than ever, but he just laughed a very evil laugh.  “You!  You stole from Captain Stumpy?   You may be just a child, but that is all the more reason why I should kill you.  I won’t have anyone saying that Captain Stumpy could lose gold to a lad.  Aaarrrm yourself, boy.  My sword is ready for you.”

John did not have a sword or any kind of weapon, so he picked up the only thing he could see that might be of use: an old umbrella that was lying by the front door.  With a roar of rage, Captain Stumpy ran toward John and they began to fight.  It didn’t take long for Captain Stumpy’s sword to completely destroy the feeble umbrella, and if John hadn’t been so little and quick he would soon have had his head cut off.  As it was, he found it very difficult to stay out of reach of that terrible sword.  But just when he thought that all hope was gone, he heard a great roar from all around him.

The whole street was full of people.  While the two had been fighting, every man and woman who had ever been helped by John had come creeping up, armed with fireplace tools and frying pans, pitchforks and paperweights.  When Captain Stumpy saw that he was surrounded, he shook in his boots.  In all his days as a pirate, no one had ever stood up to him, and he found it quite terrifying.  With amazing speed he took off down the street, leaving John, leaving the treasure, leaving the townspeople.  He was happy to have escaped with his own life.

After that story got around, no one was afraid of Captain Stumpy any more.  In every port they would laugh when his name was mentioned.  Captain Stumpy was so ashamed that he never sailed the seven seas again.

And as for John, he went on living quietly in that town among the best friends a boy could have.

Celeste and the Tree of the Four Winds, ch. 1

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Once upon a time in a faraway place, a young woman lived alone with her little daughter.  She had no husband because long ago he had gone off to the far away wars and had never come back.  It was hard for the young woman to find enough money for herself and her daughter to have food to eat.  She had to work many hours every day sewing clothes for rich women who lived in the town, and she often grew tired and despairing.   But she only had to look at her beautiful little girl to remember what she was working for and bravely carry on.  In her darkest moments, she would call her daughter over and say, “Celeste, won’t you sing a song for Mother?”

Celeste’s answer would be to begin to sing, sometimes a sweet song of her own invention, but most often the little lullaby that her mother had used to sing her to sleep as a baby.  Her voice was so clear and pure that every other sound faded away, and her mother would feel a spark of hope kindle in her heart again.

In this way, the years passed, and though things never got better for the mother and daughter, they never got worse, either.  They continued to live in the tiny cottage that the young soldier had built for his wife, and they continued to work hard and to bring each other joy.

Then in the summer of Celeste’s eighth year, a shadow fell over the little cottage.  The mother who had faced each day so steadfastly began to look pale, and the hands which had steadily managed the needle and thread began to tremble over their work.  It wasn’t long before the truth was obvious, even to one as young as Celeste.  Her mother was very, very sick.  The doctor came from the big city and shook his head and said that there was nothing he could do.   Celeste sat at her mother’s side and held her hand and thought and thought as hard as she could.  She thought about doctors and medicines and sewing dresses and bills and money and being alone.  She thought about the sound of her mother’s voice saying “Good morning” to start each new day, the smell of stew made like only her mother could make it, and how beautiful her mother looked in her best dress.  She also thought about something another little girl had once told her about a wise woman who lived in the heart of the forest and could tell your future and even sometimes make miracles.  She thought about this last part for a long time, and then she made her decision.

Early the next morning, Celeste put on all her warmest clothes, made a big bowl of porridge for her mother to eat for her breakfast, and set off quietly into the shadows of the forest.  It was late in the afternoon when Celeste arrived at the clearing which held the wise woman’s house.  Celeste was very tired and felt a bit afraid, but she didn’t pause for a moment; she just marched across and knocked loudly on the door.

No one answered.

Celeste waited, with her heart beating, then knocked again.  It was very quiet.

And then, very faintly, Celeste heard the most beautiful singing.  It seemed to be coming from around behind the little house.  Carefully, carefully, she followed the sound, and as she rounded the corner of the house, she saw a lovely garden.  The singing was coming from inside the garden.  Celeste crept closer.  She could see someone sitting next to a small fountain.  She crept closer still…and stopped in shock.

The woman who was singing was older than anyone Celeste had ever seen.  Her spine curved grotesquely and her thin wisps of hair were pure white.  The hands that were carefully arranging roses in a bowl were rough and twisted.   But her voice was as pure and sweet as Celeste’s own could be.  Celeste stood and stared, unable to believe that such a song was coming from such a woman.

After a moment, the song came to an end.  Without looking up from her roses the old woman said, “Welcome, Celestina.  I thought you’d be coming along soon.”

Celeste didn’t know what to say.

“You are wise to be silent,” the woman continued, “but our time is short, so why don’t you ask what you came to ask.”

“Why is our time short?” asked Celeste.

“Is that the question you came to ask?”

Celeste blushed.  Something about the old woman made her want to her hide her face, like a small child who thinks that if she can’t see others then she can’t be seen.  Then she thought of her mother and gathered up all her courage.  “I wanted to ask if you could save my mother.  She is very sick.  The doctor says there is no help.  But I thought maybe you could help her.  They say you can do things other people can’t.”

The old woman sighed.  She was still looking at her roses.  “There is nothing I can do for your mother.”

Celeste felt a lead weight fall on her heart.  “Noth…nothing at all?”

“Her illness is beyond my skill to heal,” said the woman.

“Then there is no hope.”  Celeste felt a tear roll down her cheek.

“No hope?  Oh child, there is always hope.”

“But you just said that no one can save her,” cried Celeste.

“I said no such thing.”  Now, at last, the woman looked into Celeste’s face.  “I said that I cannot save her.  She can still be saved.  But the only one who can do that is you.”

Musings of a Middle Aged Bear

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Kids these days. They aren’t afraid of anything, and it’s the worst thing that ever happened to them. Children need a little fear in their lives. It makes them careful. It makes them respectful. It keeps them in line. The way things are going now, they just run any which way and do any old thing they want. Now it’s up to us olduns to be afraid. Afraid of what the little brats are going to do next.

Take that little blond snippet.   You know, the one whose parents dress her in adorable blue and white pinafores and then let her roam the forest unsupervised.  Nice.  You know, there was a time when people would have thought to keep a child like that out of the woods.  It’s not like everyone doesn’t know there are bears living out here.  Just because we have better things to eat for breakfast than small children doesn’t mean that we don’t still deserve respect.

In any case, this child is the worst of the bunch.  She doesn’t just think the whole forest belongs to her, she’s apparently never been taught the words “private property.”  Just the other day she pried open the door of my son’s house when no one was home and waltzed inside just as calm as you please.  I’d like to know who taught a child that kind of trick.  That’ s what I’d like to know.

That’s not even the worst of it, though.  This little girl breaks into a bear house, sees pictures of bears everywhere, and is she afraid?  Does she tremble and run away before the bears come home?  No, not at all.  Instead she decides to steal their food, break up their furniture, and just to show that she thinks nothing can touch her, she falls asleep in my grandson’s bed!  His bed.  Where he hibernates.  If he even can now after seeing a sight like that.

Oh yes, he saw it.  The little brat was still there, fast asleep, when my son and his family came home, bringing me along for my week long visit.  They saw the missing food and the broken furniture right away and knew something was wrong.  I told my son he should have gone for help right away, but he’s always had a stubborn independent streak.  Up the stairs he went to check things out himself, and that’s when we found her.   My son let out a great roar, more surprise than anger, you understand, and she woke right up.  There we were, four bears standing over, mouths open with shock, and she doesn’t scream, doesn’t cry, doesn’t so much as blush.  She just sits up, yawns real slow-like and says, “It’s a good thing you had this bed.  That one is much to hard and that one is much too soft.”  !!!!!! Who does this little cub thinks she is?  Too hard?  Too hard? I’ll have you know that my husband made that bed with his own paws 40 years ago and first he and then my son have been happily sleeping on it ever since.  As for my daughter-in-law’s bed, I will admit that it is ridiculously soft.  (Really, what does one bear need with so many pillows?)  But nontheless, it is her bed in her house.   It’s not for some little wisp of a girl to come along and criticize.  Too soft for you, is it?  Then maybe you should find a bed that’s in your own house.

I was just about to open my mouth and say all these things when my son began to laugh.  Laugh!  What he could possibly have found funny I’ll never know.  All I know is that they took that self-entitled, ungrateful little waif down the stairs, fed her even more food, and sent her on her way with a smile.  I let my son know in no uncertain terms that he was making a fool of himself, but he just laughed again and made some more porridge.  He’s always been a little soft, just like his father.   But it’s not my place to meddle.  As I told my daughter-in-law several times that week, I’d never allowed such a child to get away with behavior like that in my house, but they can do what they like in their house.  It’s not my place to tell them what to do.

Kids these days…

I bet this didn’t happen to you today

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I bet you didn’t set off on a very wet day to walk several blocks to teach an English class because you knew that it was a little weird to go on a rainy day, but it wasn’t raining right at that moment and it was supposed to be the first class and you didn’t want that nice young girl to think you forgot about her. I bet you didn’t discover that the last two blocks were on unpaved and VERY muddy streets. I bet you didn’t think, “Hey! I used to live in a place that was ALL muddy streets. I know how to handle this. I can find a path through the mud.” I bet you didn’t squish through a little wet grass because it was slightly less muddy and then eye that pile of rocks to see if you could jump on it and get around the massive puddle across the entire road. I bet you didn’t find out after you jumped that it wasn’t a pile of rocks, but really just a cleverly disguised pile of mud. I bet your foot did not sink to the ankle into the mud. I bet when you tried to quickly pull your foot out to minimize mess, your shoe did NOT stay in the mud while your bare foot came out on its own. And I definitely bet that you did not overcorrect and have to step your bare foot deep into that same mud. I’ll also bet you didn’t decide this was all a mistake of judgment, pry your shoe from the mud, put in on your slippery foot, and squelch several blocks home hoping beyond hope you wouldn’t run into anyone you knew.

But if I’m wrong and this did happen to you today, please let me know. It would help me not feel so alone.

One with a horse and a monkey

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Once upon a time there was a horse named Harold. His best friend was a monkey named Fred. Yes, that’s right, his best friend was a monkey.

Now, you might not think that a horse and a monkey would make very good friends, but that’s just because you aren’t thinking it through. A horse had four legs and the ability to run very fast and look majestic while he is doing it, but he is somewhat lacking in the arms department. He can find himself fresh grass to eat anytime, but what if he wants something sweeter, say, an apple? He’s hard pressed to get it down from the tree, and so he ends up waiting around until the apples fall on the ground, by which time they are inevitably bruised and mushy and not nearly so crunchy and delicious to eat. That’s where having a monkey friend can be very handy. Monkeys can easily climb to the top of any tree and pluck off the sweetest apples with their clever little hands. And in return for this apple delivery system? The horse can carry the monkey anywhere he wants to go, so his desire for adventure can be satisfied in a way that swinging in trees could never do.

So, as I was saying, Harold the horse and Fred the monkey were best friends. Every day Harold would trot up to the tree where Fred slept and wait for his friend to some swinging down. They would head off to seek adventure and apples anywhere their hearts desired.

One of their favorite places was a little hill quite some distance from the forest which had a cluster of lovely apple trees at its crown. The apples from those trees were the sweetest apples Harold had ever tasted, and Fred quite agreed.

But then one day it all went wrong. Harold and Fred arrived at their favorite hill on just the day when the apples should be at their sweetest for picking. It was a long trip, even for a strong horse like Harold, but he had been dreaming of apples the whole way, until he could just about taste their juicy crunch in his mouth. But as you will have guessed, when they got there, all the apples were gone from the trees. Harold was heart-broken (not to mention hungry and thirsty). Fred was irate. He jumped off of Harold’s back with a screech and swung to the very top of each and every tree, looking for those apples. But not even one was left. Fred’s shrieking was so loud that Harold wanted to cover his ears, but of course, he had no hands to do that, so he just stood as patiently as always and wondered with all his might what had happened to those apples.

When Fred finally calmed down a little, he looked down from his perch at the top of the tallest tree and saw something strange. Swinging quickly down, he discovered a single apple core lying at the bottom of the hill. A few feet away, he found another and then another. It was a whole trail of apple cores, leading away from the hill in the opposite direction of the forest. Fred was terribly excited about his discovery. His enthusiastic dancing caught Harold’s attention and in no time, Fred was showing him what he had seen and making plans to follow the trail of apple cores. Harold was very tired. But he found it difficult to say no to Fred when he was so worked up, and he kept thinking of those delicious apples, so his ducked his head, and they were off.

And then…