A Sorcery Story

A man discovered his wife was a sorceress who transformed into a mule every Friday. One night, he witnessed her remove her head to transform and rubbed ashes on the severed neck. Unable to reattach her head, she remained a mule, eventually turning into an owl with her head. This explains the owl’s human-like cries and laughter in folklore.

Source
Ethnology of the Mayas of
Southern and Central British Honduras
by John Eric Thompson
Field Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Series, Pub.274, Vol.17.2
Chicago, 1930

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The wife deceives her husband by secretly transforming into a mule.

Forbidden Knowledge: The husband’s discovery of his wife’s secret sorcery practices.

Illusion vs. Reality: The wife’s outward appearance as a human contrasts with her hidden supernatural activities.

► From the same Region or People

Central America
- Maya Lore

Learn more about Maya people

A man had a wife who was a sorceress and used to turn herself into a mule. Every Friday she would sit up late spinning cotton, and she used to put a fire under her husband’s hammock so that he wouldn’t wake up with the cold.

The man suspected his wife, so one Friday he kept awake. At midnight his wife put away the cotton she was spinning, and throwing herself on the ground, after first having taken off her head and placed it on the ground, she turned into a mule; then she went off with a number of other mules. The man took some ashes and rubbed them on the severed neck of her head.

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Just before dawn the mules returned. The woman threw herself onto the ground and changed back into human shape, but she could not fix her head on again because of the ashes. Accordingly she changed back into a mule again and, carrying the head, she followed the man wherever he went. He tried to shake her off, but could not. One day he went into a very thick part of the forest, and there succeeded in losing the mule and her head. The mule and head turned into an owl (buh). That is why the owl hoots, cries, and laughs like a woman.

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Around the Camp Fire

A group of men spent the night at old forest houses, witnessing a bizarre procession of animals, from a rat to larger creatures, somersaulting through their campfire. The spectacle culminated with men running through the fire. Terrified, they took refuge on a hut roof as the animals attempted to destroy it. By morning, the eerie events left no trace, deepening the mystery.

Source
Ethnology of the Mayas of
Southern and Central British Honduras
by John Eric Thompson
Field Museum of Natural History
Anthropological Series, Pub.274, Vol.17.2
Chicago, 1930

► Themes of the story

Sacred Spaces: The old houses in the forest and the campfire setting may hold spiritual significance, serving as a backdrop for the mystical events.

Illusion vs. Reality: The travelers experience bizarre and terrifying events that leave no trace by morning, blurring the line between what is real and what might be an illusion.

Forbidden Knowledge: The men’s decision to spend the night in the old forest houses leads them to witness mysterious occurrences, suggesting they have stumbled upon hidden or forbidden aspects of the supernatural world.

► From the same Region or People

Central America
- Maya Lore

Learn more about Maya people

Not so very long ago a party of men arrived at a group of old houses in the forest. They decided to spend the night there. After they had eaten, they sat around the camp fire a short while. Suddenly a rat ran forward, turned a somersault in the fire, and continued on its journey. It was followed by a rabbit that went through the same motions. There followed a regular procession of animals, each one larger than the preceding one. All turned a somersault in the fire and then ran on. Finally, men came running through the fire. The travellers, thoroughly frightened, took refuge on the roof of the hut. The animals tried to cut down the house-posts to bring down the roof. They did not succeed, and in the morning there was no sign of what had happened.

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The Wren

A wren’s vanity blinds him to reality when his offspring describe a camel’s size. Dismissing their claims, he insists no creature surpasses him in stature. When the camel reappears, the wren’s arrogance falters as the massive beast briefly seizes him. Though unharmed, the wren acknowledges its grandeur. The tale warns of vanity’s futility, as pride inevitably leads to downfall.

Source
Moorish Literature
   romantic ballads, tales of the Berbers,
   stories of the Kabyles, folk-lore,
   and national traditions
The Colonial Press,
   London, New York, 1901

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The wren’s initial arrogance leads him to underestimate the camel’s size, but he later acknowledges the truth after a humbling encounter.

Conflict with Nature: The wren’s encounter with the camel represents a confrontation with the natural world’s realities, challenging his misconceptions.

Illusion vs. Reality: The wren’s belief in his own grandeur is shattered when faced with the camel’s true size, highlighting the disparity between perception and reality.

► From the same Region or People

North Africa
- Berber Lore

Learn more about the Berber peoples

Translated by J. Rivière
and Chauncey C. Starkweather

A wren had built its nest on the side of a road. When the eggs were hatched, a camel passed that way. The little wrens saw it, and said to their father when he returned from the fields:

“O papa, a gigantic animal passed by.”

The wren stretched out his foot. “As big as this, my children?”

“O papa, much bigger.”

He stretched out his foot and his wing. “As big as this?”

“O papa, much bigger.”

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Finally he stretched out fully his feet and legs. “As big as this, then?”

“Much bigger.”

“That is a lie; there is no animal bigger than I am.”

“Well, wait,” said the little ones, “and you will see.” The camel came back while browsing the grass of the roadside. The wren stretched himself out near the nest. The camel seized the bird, which passed through its teeth safe and sound.

“Truly,” he said to them, “the camel is a gigantic animal, but I am not ashamed of myself.”

On the earth it generally happens that the vain are as if they did not exist. But sooner or later a rock falls and crushes them.

The Rabbi’s Bogey-Man

Rabbi Lion of Prague creates a mechanical servant using mystical means to assist with tasks, but his creations spiral out of control. A woman-machine accidentally causes a fire, leading to public outrage. Compelled by the king, the rabbi builds a larger man-machine, which becomes rebellious. Ultimately, the rabbi destroys it to prevent disaster, leaving a cautionary tale about the dangers of overreaching human creativity.

Source
Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends
by Gertrude Landa (“Aunt Naomi”)
Bloch Publishing Co., New York, 1919

► Themes of the story

Forbidden Knowledge: The rabbi’s pursuit of creating life-like mechanical servants involves delving into mystical and possibly forbidden knowledge, highlighting the dangers of seeking hidden or restricted truths.

Illusion vs. Reality: The mechanical servants blur the line between the inanimate and the living, challenging perceptions of what is real and what is an illusion.

Tragic Flaw: The rabbi’s hubris and overreliance on his own intellect lead to his downfall, embodying the concept of a hero undone by their own weakness.

► From the same Region or People

West Asia
- Jewish Lore

Learn more about Jewish mythology

Rabbi Lion, of the ancient city of Prague, sat in his study in the Ghetto looking very troubled. Through the window he could see the River Moldau with the narrow streets of the Jewish quarter clustered around the cemetery, which still stands to-day, and where is to be seen this famous man’s tomb. Beyond the Ghetto rose the towers and spires of the city, but just at that moment it was not the cruelty of the people to the Jews that occupied the rabbi’s thoughts. He was unable to find a servant, even one to attend the fire on the Sabbath for him.

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The truth was that the people were a little afraid of the rabbi. He was a very learned man, wise and studious, and a scientist; and because he did wonderful things people called him a magician. His experiments in chemistry frightened them. Late at nights they saw little spurts of blue and red flame shine from his window, and they said that demons and witches came at his beck and call. So nobody would enter his service.

“If, as they declare, I am truly a magician,” he said to himself, “why should I not make for myself a servant, one that will tend the fire for me on the Sabbath?”

He set to work on his novel idea and in a few weeks had completed his mechanical creature, a woman. She looked like a big, strong, laboring woman, and the rabbi was greatly pleased with his handiwork.

“Now to endow it with life,” he said.

Carefully, in the silence of his mysterious study at midnight, he wrote out the Unpronounceable Sacred Name of God on a piece of parchment. Then he rolled it up and placed it in the mouth of the creature.

Immediately it sprang up and began to move like a living thing. It rolled its eyes, waved its arms, and nearly walked through the window. In alarm, Rabbi Lion snatched the parchment from its mouth and the creature fell helpless to the floor.

“I must be careful,” said the rabbi. “It is a wonderful machine with its many springs and screws and levers, and will be most useful to me as soon as I learn to control it properly.”

All the people marveled when they saw the rabbi’s machine-woman running errands and doing many duties, controlled only by his thoughts. She could do everything but speak, and Rabbi Lion discovered that he must take the Name from her mouth before he went to sleep. Otherwise, she might have done mischief.

One cold Sabbath afternoon, the rabbi was preaching in the synagogue and the little children stood outside his house looking at the machine-woman seated by the window. When they rolled their eyes she did, and at last they shouted: “Come and play with us.”

She promptly jumped through the window and stood among the boys and girls.

“We are cold,” said one. “Canst thou make a fire for us?”

The creature was made to obey orders, so she at once collected sticks and lit a fire in the street. Then, with the children, she danced round the blaze in great glee. She piled on all the sticks and old barrels she could find, and soon the fire spread and caught a house. The children ran away in fear while the fire blazed so furiously that the whole town became alarmed. Before the flames could be extinguished, a number of houses had been burned down and much damage done. The creature could not be found, and only when the parchment with the Name, which could not burn, was discovered amid the ashes, was it known that she had been destroyed in the conflagration.

The Council of the city was indignant when it learned of the strange occurrence, and Rabbi Lion was summoned to appear before King Rudolf.

“What is this I hear,” asked his majesty. “Is it not a sin to make a living creature?”

“It had no life but that which the Sacred Name gave it,” replied the rabbi.

“I understand it not,” said the king. “Thou wilt be imprisoned and must make another creature, so that I may see it for myself. If it is as thou sayest, thy life shall be spared. If not–if, in truth, thou profanest God’s sacred law and makest a living thing, thou shalt die and all thy people shall be expelled from this city.”

Rabbi Lion at once set to work, and this time made a man, much bigger than the woman that had been burned.

“As your majesty sees,” said the rabbi, when his task was completed, “it is but a creature of wood and glue with springs at the joints. Now observe,” and he put the Sacred Name in its mouth.

Slowly the creature rose to its feet and saluted the monarch who was so delighted that he cried: “Give him to me, rabbi.”

“That cannot be,” said Rabbi Lion, solemnly. “The Sacred Name must not pass from my possession. Otherwise the creature may do great damage again. This time I shall take care and will not use the man on the Sabbath.”

The king saw the wisdom of this and set the rabbi at liberty and allowed him to take the creature to his house. The Jews looked on in wonderment when they saw the creature walking along the street by the side of Rabbi Lion, but the children ran away in fear, crying: “The bogey-man.”

The rabbi exercised caution with his bogey-man this time, and every Friday, just before Sabbath commenced, he took the name from its mouth so as to render it powerless.

It became more wonderful every day, and one evening it startled the rabbi from a doze by beginning to speak.

“I want to be a soldier,” it said, “and fight for the king. I belong to the king. You made me for him.”

“Silence,” cried Rabbi Lion, and it had to obey. “I like not this,” said the rabbi to himself. “This monster must not become my master, or it may destroy me and perhaps all the Jews.”

He could not help but wonder whether the king was right and that it must be a sin to create a man. The creature not only spoke, but grew surly and disobedient, and yet the rabbi hesitated to break it up, for it was most useful to him. It did all his cooking, washing and cleaning, and three servants could not have performed the work so neatly and quickly.

One Friday afternoon when the rabbi was preparing to go to the synagogue, he heard a loud noise in the street.

“Come quickly,” the people shouted at his door. “Your bogey-man is trying to get into the synagogue.”

Rabbi Lion rushed out in a state of alarm. The monster had slipped from the house and was battering down the door of the synagogue.

“What art thou doing?” demanded the rabbi, sternly.

“Trying to get into the synagogue to destroy the scrolls of the Holy Law,” answered the monster. “Then wilt thou have no power over me, and I shall make a great army of bogey-men who shall fight for the king and kill all the Jews.”

“I will kill thee first,” exclaimed Rabbi Lion, and springing forward he snatched the parchment with the Name so quickly from the creature’s mouth that it collapsed at his feet a mass of broken springs and pieces of wood and glue.

For many years afterward these pieces were shown to visitors in the attic of the synagogue when the story was told of the rabbi’s bogey-man.

The Presidente Who Had Horns

An unjust presidente, wishing for horns to frighten his people, finds his wish granted. The barber, sworn to secrecy, whispers the truth into a hole beneath bamboo trees. The bamboo mysteriously echoes his words, spreading the secret. As rumors grow, the council confirms the presidente’s horns, deeming him unfit to rule. Overcome by shame and exposed, the presidente is ultimately overthrown and killed.

Source
Philippine Folk Tales
compiled and annotated by
Mabel Cook Cole
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1916

► Themes of the story

Divine Punishment: The presidente’s unjust behavior leads to a supernatural punishment—growing horns—that signifies his moral corruption and unfitness to rule.

Cunning and Deception: The barber’s attempt to secretly divulge the presidente’s condition by whispering into the ground reflects themes of secrecy and the unintended consequences of deceit.

Illusion vs. Reality: The presidente’s outward appearance, altered by the horns, becomes a manifestation of his inner corruption, highlighting the disparity between appearance and true nature.

► From the same Region or People

Southeast Asia
- Philippines
  - Ilocano Lore

Learn more about Philippines peoples

Once there was a presidente who was very unjust to his people, and one day he became so angry that he wished he had horns so that he might frighten them. No sooner had he made this rash wish, than horns began to grow on his head.

He sent for a barber who came to his house to cut his hair, and as he worked the presidente asked: “What do you see on my head?”

“I see nothing,” answered the barber; for although he could see the horns plainly, he was afraid to say so.

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Soon, however, the presidente put up his hands and felt the horns, and then when he inquired again the barber told him that he had two horns.

“If you tell anyone what you have seen, you shall be hanged,” said the presidente as the barber started away, and he was greatly frightened.

When he reached home, the barber did not intend to tell anyone, for he was afraid; but as he thought of his secret more and more, the desire to tell someone became so strong that he knew he could not keep it. Finally he went to the field and dug a hole under some bamboo, and when the hole was large enough he crawled in and whispered that the presidente had horns. He then climbed out, filled up the hole, and went home.

By and by some people came along the road on their way to market, and as they passed the bamboo they stopped in amazement, for surely a voice came from the trees, and it said that the presidente had horns. These people hastened to market and told what they had heard, and the people there went to the bamboo to listen to the strange voice. They informed others, and soon the news had spread all over the town. The councilmen were told, and they, too, went to the bamboo. When they had heard the voice, they ran to the house of the presidente. But his wife said that he was ill and they could not see him.

By this time the horns had grown until they were one foot in length, and the presidente was so ashamed that he bade his wife tell the people that he could not talk. She told this to the councilmen when they came on the following day, but they replied that they must see him, for they had heard that he had horns, and if this were true he had no right to govern the people.

She refused to let them in, so they broke down the door. They saw the horns on the head of the presidente and killed him. For, they said, he was no better than an animal.

The Poor Fisherman and His Wife

A poor fisherman and his wife catch an unusual fish they believe to be a priest, sparking fear of retribution. Misinterpreting festive bell sounds as a manhunt, they flee in terror. Returning home, they panic at more bells, mount a tied horse, and mistakenly think falling fruit are gunshots. Overwhelmed by fear, they tragically die, illustrating the perils of misunderstanding and paranoia.

Source
Philippine Folk Tales
compiled and annotated by
Mabel Cook Cole
A.C. McClurg & Co., Chicago, 1916

► Themes of the story

Illusion vs. Reality: The couple’s inability to distinguish between their fears and actual events drives the plot, highlighting the dangers of misperception.

Tragic Flaw: Their overwhelming paranoia and tendency to jump to conclusions without seeking the truth lead to their untimely demise.

Community and Isolation: The couple’s fear isolates them from their community, leading them to flee and ultimately contributing to their tragic end.

► From the same Region or People

Southeast Asia
- Philippines
  - Ilocano Lore

Learn more about Philippines peoples

Many, many years ago a poor fisherman and his wife lived with their three sons in a village by the sea. One day the old man set his snare in the water not far from his house, and at night when he went to look at it, he found that he had caught a great white fish. This startled the old man very much, for he had never seen a fish like this before, and it occurred to him that it was the priest of the town.

He ran to his wife as fast as he could and cried: “My wife, I have caught the priest.”

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“What?” said the old woman, terrified at the sight of her frightened husband.

“I have caught the priest,” said the old man again.

They hurried together to the river where the snare was set, and when the old woman saw the fish, she cried:

“Oh, it is not the priest but the governor.”

“No, it is the priest,” insisted the old man, and they went home trembling with fear.

That night neither of them was able to sleep for thought of the terrible thing that had happened and wondering what they should do. Now the next day was a great holiday in the town. At four o’clock in the morning cannons were fired and bells rang loudly. The old man and woman, hearing all the noise and not knowing the reason for it, thought that their crime had been discovered, and the people were searching for them to punish them, so they set out as fast as they could to hide in the woods. On and on they went, stopping only to rest so as to enable them to resume their flight.

The next morning they reached the woods near Pilar, where there also was a great holiday, and the sexton was ringing the bells to call the people to mass. As soon as the old man and woman heard the bells they thought the people there had been notified of their escape, and that they, too, were trying to catch them. So they turned and started home again.

As they reached their house, the three sons came home with their one horse and tied it to the trunk of the caramay tree. Presently the bells began to ring again, for it was twelve o’clock at noon. Not thinking what time of day it was, the old man and woman ran out of doors in terror, and seeing the horse jumped on its back with the intention of riding to the next town before anyone could catch them. When they had mounted they began to whip the horse. In their haste, they had forgotten to untie the rope which was around the trunk of the caramay tree. As the horse pulled at the rope fruit fell from the tree upon the old man and woman. Believing they were shot, they were so frightened that they died.

The Bulbul and the Cotton-Tree

A bulbul, mistaking a cotton-tree’s bud for fruit, selfishly guarded it for twelve years, denying other birds access. When the pod burst, revealing cotton instead of fruit, the bulbul was mocked for his greed and shortsightedness. A cuckoo explained that sharing would have brought blessings. The cotton-tree reminded the bulbul of its purpose, benefiting others through its cotton. Since then, bulbuls avoid cotton-trees.

Source
Indian Fairy Tales
collected and translated by Maive Stokes
Ellis & White, London, 1880

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The bulbul deceives other birds by claiming the fruit is not good, to keep it for himself.

Illusion vs. Reality: The bulbul mistakes the cotton pod for a fruit, highlighting the difference between appearance and reality.

Transformation through Love: The bulbul’s love for the perceived fruit transforms into disappointment, teaching him a valuable lesson.

► From the same Region or People

South Asia
- India
  - Hindu Lore

Learn more about the Hindu people

Told by Dunkní

There was once a bulbul, and one day as he was flying about, he saw a tree on which was a little fruit. The bulbul was much pleased and said, “I will sit here till this fruit is ripe, and then I will eat it.” So he deserted his nest and his wife, and sat there for twelve years without eating anything, and every day he said, “To-morrow I will eat this fruit.” During these twelve years a great many birds tried to sit on the tree, and wished to build their nests in it, but whenever they came the bulbul sent them away, saying, “This fruit is not good. Don’t come here.” One day a cuckoo came and said, “Why do you send us away? Why should we not come and sit here too? All the trees here are not yours.”

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“Never mind,” said the bulbul, “I am going to sit here, and when this fruit is ripe, I shall eat it.” Now the cuckoo knew that this tree was the cotton-tree, but the bulbul did not. First comes the bud, which the bulbul thought a fruit, then the flower, and the flower becomes a big pod, and the pod bursts and all the cotton flies away. The bulbul was delighted when he saw the beautiful red flower, which he still thought a fruit, and said, “When it is ripe, it will be a delicious fruit.” The flower became a pod, and the pod burst. “What is all this that is flying about?” said the bulbul. “The fruit must be ripe now.” So he looked into the pod, and it was empty; all the cotton had fallen out. Then the cuckoo came and said to the angry bulbul, “You see if you had allowed us to come and sit on the tree, you would have had something good to eat; but as you were selfish, and would not let any one share with you, God is angry and has punished you by giving you a hollow fruit.” Then the cuckoo called all the other birds, and they came and mocked the bulbul. “Ah! you see God has punished you for your selfishness,” they said. The bulbul got very angry and all the birds went away. After they had gone, the bulbul said to the tree, “You are a bad tree. You are of use to no one. You give food to no one.” The tree said, “You are mistaken. God made me what I am. My flower is given to sheep to eat. My cotton makes pillows and mattresses for man.”

Since that day no bulbul goes near a cotton-tree.

Karma

Ito Tatewaki, burdened by cares, encounters a mysterious maiden on a solitary road. She leads him to her mistress, a lady he instantly loves. After a night together, the house vanishes, and she leaves, binding his arm with a golden dragon girdle, promising reunion in nine years. Despite years of longing, they meet again on the Night of Souls, where he dies peacefully, finally reunited with his love.

Source
Japanese Fairy Tales
by Grace James
Macmillan & Co., London, 1912

► Themes of the story

Love and Betrayal: The profound connection between Ito Tatewaki and the mysterious lady highlights deep affection, though not explicitly involving betrayal.

Prophecy and Fate: The promise of reunion after nine years and the eventual fulfillment of this destiny underscore the role of fate in their lives.

Illusion vs. Reality: The vanishing house and garden blur the lines between what is real and what is illusionary, challenging Tatewaki’s perception of reality.

► From the same Region or People

East Asia
- Japanese Lore

Learn more about Japanese Mythology & Folklore

The young man, Ito Tatewaki, was returning homeward after a journey which he had taken to the city of Kioto. He made his way alone and on foot, and he went with his eyes bent upon the ground, for cares weighed him down and his mind was full of the business which had taken him to Kioto. Night found him upon a lonely road leading across a wild moor. Upon the moor were rocks and stones, with an abundance of flowers, for it was summer time, and here and there grew a dark pine tree, with gnarled trunk and crooked boughs.

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Tatewaki looked up and beheld the figure of a woman before him in the way. It was a slender girl dressed in a simple gown of blue cotton. Lightly she went along the lonely road in the deepening twilight.

“I should say she was the serving-maid of some gentle lady,” Tatewaki said to himself. “The way is solitary and the time is dreary for such a child as she.”

So the young man quickened his pace and came up with the maiden. “Child,” he said very gently, “since we tread the same lonely road let us be fellow-travellers, for now the twilight passes and it will soon be dark.”

The pretty maiden turned to him with bright eyes and smiling lips.

“Sir,” she said, “my mistress will be glad indeed.”

“Your mistress?” said Tatewaki.

“Why, sir, of a surety she will be glad because you are come.”

“Because I am come?”

“Indeed, and indeed the time has been long,” said the serving-maid; “but now she will think no more of that.”

“Will she not?” said Tatewaki. And on he went by the maiden’s side, walking as one in a dream.

Presently the two of them came to a little house, not far from the roadside. Before the house was a small fair garden, with a stream running through it and a stone bridge. About the house and the garden there was a bamboo fence, and in the fence a wicket-gate.

“Here dwells my mistress,” said the serving-maid. And they went into the garden through the wicket-gate.

Now Tatewaki came to the threshold of the house. He saw a lady standing upon the threshold waiting.

She said, “You have come at last, my lord, to give me comfort.”

And he answered, “I have come.”

When he had said this he knew that he loved the lady, and had loved her since love was.

“O love, love,” he murmured, “time is not for such as we.”

Then she took him by the hand, and they went into the house together and into a room with white mats and a round latticed window.

Before the window there stood a lily in a vessel of water.

Here the two held converse together.

And after some time there was an old ancient woman that came with saké in a silver flagon; and she brought silver drinking-cups and all things needful. And Tatewaki and the lady drank the “Three Times Three” together. When they had done this the lady said, “Love, let us go out into the shine of the moon. See, the night is as green as an emerald….”

So they went and left the house and the small fair garden behind them. Or ever they had closed the wicket-gate the house and the garden and the wicket-gate itself all faded away, dissolving in a faint mist, and not a sign of them was left.

“Alas! what is this?” cried Tatewaki.

“Let be, dear love,” said the lady, and smiled; “they pass, for we have no more need of them.”

Then Tatewaki saw that he was alone with the lady upon the wild moor. And the tall lilies grew about them in a ring. So they stood the live-long night, not touching one another but looking into each other’s eyes most steadfastly. When dawn came, the lady stirred and gave one deep sigh.

Tatewaki said, “Lady, why do you sigh?”

And when he asked her this, she unclasped her girdle, which was fashioned after the form of a golden scaled dragon with translucent eyes. And she took the girdle and wound it nine times about her love’s arm, and she said, “O love, we part: these are the years until we meet again.” So she touched the golden circles on his arm.

Then Tatewaki cried aloud, “O love, who are you? Tell me your name….”

She said, “O love, what have we to do with names, you and I?… I go to my people upon the plains. Do not seek for me there…. Wait for me.”

And when the lady had spoken she faded slowly and grew ethereal, like a mist. And Tatewaki cast himself upon the ground and put out his hand to hold her sleeve. But he could not stay her. And his hand grew cold and he lay still as one dead, all in the grey dawn.

When the sun was up he arose.

“The plains,” he said, “the low plains … there will I find her.” So, with the golden token wound about his arm, fleetly he sped down, down to the plains. He came to the broad river, where he saw folk standing on the green banks. And on the river there floated boats of fresh flowers, the red dianthus and the campanula, golden rod and meadow-sweet. And the people upon the river banks called to Tatewaki:

“Stay with us. Last night was the Night of Souls. They came to earth and wandered where they would, the kind wind carried them. To-day they return to Yomi. They go in their boats of flowers, the river bears them. Stay with us and bid the departing Souls good speed.”

And Tatewaki cried, “May the Souls have sweet passage…. I cannot stay.”

So he came to the plains at last, but did not find his lady. Nothing at all did he find, but a wilderness of ancient graves, with nettles overgrown and the waving green grass.

So Tatewaki went to his own place, and for nine long years he lived a lonely man. The happiness of home and little children he never knew.

“Ah, love,” he said, “not patiently, not patiently, I wait for you…. Love, delay not your coming.”

And when the nine years were past he was in his garden upon the Night of Souls. And looking up he saw a woman that came towards him, threading her way through the paths of the garden. Lightly she came; she was a slender girl, dressed in a simple gown of blue cotton. Tatewaki stood up and spoke:

“Child,” he said very gently, “since we tread the same lonely road let us be fellow-travellers, for now the twilight passes and it will soon be dark.”

The maid turned to him with bright eyes and smiling lips:

“Sir,” she said, “my mistress will be glad indeed.”

“Will she be glad?” said Tatewaki.

“The time has been long.”

“Long and very weary,” said Tatewaki.

“But now you will think no more of that….”

“Take me to your mistress,” said Tatewaki. “Guide me, for I cannot see any more. Hold me, for my limbs fail. Do not leave go my hand, for I am afraid. Take me to your mistress,” said Tatewaki.

In the morning his servants found him cold and dead, quietly lying in the shade of the garden trees.

Broken Images

Two brothers, a hunter and a dreamer, embark on contrasting journeys—one in the forest, the other into a mystical shrine. The dreamer encounters divine beings, learning of their duties and sorrows, while the hunter searches for his brother through a stormy night. Reunited, they reflect on their different perspectives: the dreamer’s visions of gods and the hunter’s pragmatic view of the world.

Source
Japanese Fairy Tales
by Grace James
Macmillan & Co., London, 1912

► Themes of the story

Sacred Spaces: The shrine serves as a holy place where the dreamer gains insight into the divine and the duties of the gods.

Illusion vs. Reality: The contrasting experiences of the brothers highlight different perceptions of reality—the dreamer’s mystical visions versus the hunter’s pragmatic worldview.

Family Dynamics: The relationship between the two brothers, with their differing perspectives and experiences, reflects the complexities within familial bonds.

► From the same Region or People

East Asia
- Japanese Lore

Learn more about Japanese Mythology & Folklore

Once there lived two brothers who were princes in the land.

The elder brother was a hunter. He loved the deep woods and the chase. He went from dawn to dark with his bow and his arrows. Swiftly he could run; he was strong and bright-eyed. The younger brother was a dreamer; his eyes were gentle. From dawn to dark he would sit with his book or with his thoughts. Sweetly could he sing of love, or of war, or of the green fields, and tell stories of the fairies and of the time of the gods.

► Continue reading…

Upon a fair day of summer the hunter betook himself very early to the woods, as was his wont. But the dreamer took his book in his hand, and, musing, he wandered by the stream’s side, where grew the yellow mimulus.

“It is the fairies’ money,” he said; “it will buy all the joys of fairyland!” So he went on his way, smiling.

And when he had continued for some time, he came to a holy shrine. And there led to the shrine a hundred steps, moss-grown and grey. Beside the steps were guardian lions, carved in stone. Behind the shrine was Fugi, the Mystic Mountain, white and beautiful, and all the lesser hills rose softly up like prayers.

“O peerless Fugi,” said the dreamer, “O passionless wonder mountain! To see thee is to hear sweet music without sound, the blessed harmony of silence.”

Then he climbed the steps, moss-grown and grey. And the lions that were carved in stone rose up and followed him, and they came with him to the inner gates of the shrine and stayed there.

In the shrine there was a hush of noonday. The smoke of incense curled and hung upon the air. Dimly shone the gold and the bronze, the lights and the mystic mirrors.

There was a sound of singing in the shrine, and turning, the dreamer saw a man who stood at his right hand. The man was taller than any child of earth. Moreover, his face shone with the glory of a youth that cannot pass away. He held a year-old child upon his arm and hushed it to sleep, singing a strange melody. When the babe fell asleep he was well pleased, and smiled.

“What babe is that?” said the dreamer.

“O dreamer, it is no babe, but a spirit.”

“Then, my lord, what are you?” said the dreamer.

“I am Jizo, who guards the souls of little children. It is most pitiful to hear their crying when they come to the sandy river-bed, the Sai-no-kawara. O dreamer, they come alone, as needs they must, wailing and wandering, stretching out their pretty hands. They have a task, which is to pile stones for a tower of prayer. But in the night come the Oni to throw down the towers and to scatter all the stones. So the children are made afraid, and their labour is lost.”

“What then, my lord Jizo?” said the dreamer.

“Why, then I come, for the Great One gives me leave. And I call ‘Come hither, wandering souls.’ And they fly to me that I may hide them in my long sleeves. I carry them in my arms and on my breast, where they lie light and cold,–as light and cold as the morning mist upon the mountains.”

When he had spoken, the year-old child stirred and murmured: so he rocked it, and wandered to and fro in the quiet temple court and hushed it as he went.

So the swift moments flew and the noontide passed away.

Presently there came to the shrine a lady most gentle and beautiful. Grey was her robe, and she had silver sandals on her feet. She said, “I am called The Merciful. For mankind’s dear sake, I have refused eternal peace. The Great One has given to me a thousand loving arms, arms of mercy. And my hands are full of gifts. O dreamer, when you dream your dreams you shall see me in my lotus boat when I sail upon the mystic mere.”

“Lady, Lady Kwannon …” said the dreamer.

Then came one clothed in blue, speaking with a sweet, deep, well-known voice.

“I am Benten, the Goddess of the Sea and the Goddess of Song. My dragons are about me and beneath my feet. See their green scales and their opal eyes. Greeting, O dreamer!”

After her there came a band of blooming boys, laughing and holding out their rosy arms. “We are the Sons of the Sea Goddess,” they said. “Come, dreamer, come to our cool caves.”

The God of Roads came, and his three messengers with him. Three apes were the three messengers. The first ape covered his eyes with his hands, for he could see no evil thing. The second ape covered his ears with his hands, for he could hear no evil thing. The third ape covered his mouth with his hands, for he could speak no evil thing. Then came She, the fearful woman who takes the clothes of the dead who are not able to pay their toll, so that they must stand shivering at the entrance of the mysterious Three Ways. They are unfortunate indeed.

And many and many a vision the dreamer saw in that enchanted shrine.

And dark night fell, with storm and tempest and the sound of rain upon the roof. Yet the dreamer never stirred. Suddenly there was a sound of hurrying feet without. A voice called loud, “My brother, my brother, my brother!…” In sprang the hunter through the golden temple doors.

“Where are you?” he cried, “my brother, my brother!” He had his swinging lantern in his hand and held it high, as he flung his long blown hair back over his shoulder. His face was bright with the rain upon it, his eyes were as keen as an eagle’s.

“O brother …” said the dreamer, and ran to meet him.

“Now the dear gods be thanked that I have you safe and sound,” said the hunter. “Half the night I have sought you, wandering in the forest and by the stream’s side. I was all to blame for leaving you … my little brother.” With that, he took his brother’s face between his two warm hands.

But the dreamer sighed, “I have been with the gods all night,” he said, “and I think I see them still. The place is holy.”

Then the hunter flashed his light upon the temple walls, upon the gilding and the bronze.

“I see no gods,” he said.

“What see you, brother?”

“I see a row of stones, broken images, grey, with moss-grown feet.”

“They are grey because they are sad, they are sad because they are forgotten,” said the dreamer.

But the hunter took him by the hand and led him into the night.

The dreamer said, “O brother, how sweet is the scent of the bean fields after the rain.”

“Now bind your sandals on,” said the hunter, “and I’ll run you a race to our home.”

The Espousal of the Rat’s Daughter

Mr. Rat, a proud and well-to-do figure, sought the most powerful suitor for his beautiful daughter, Yuki. Consulting the Sun, Cloud, Wind, and Wall, he discovered each had a weakness. Ultimately, the Wall revealed Mr. Rat’s own nephew—who had gnawed through it—as the most powerful. Satisfied, Yuki married her cousin, proving that true strength often lies closest to home.

Source
Japanese Fairy Tales
by Grace James
Macmillan & Co., London, 1912

► Themes of the story

Cunning and Deception: The story highlights the cleverness of the rat, who, despite being small, is capable of gnawing through the sturdy wall, demonstrating that true strength isn’t always apparent.

Family Dynamics: The narrative focuses on Mr. Rat’s desire to secure a powerful match for his daughter, reflecting familial aspirations and relationships.

Illusion vs. Reality: Mr. Rat perceives the Sun, Cloud, Wind, and Wall as the most powerful beings, but learns that their apparent strength has limitations, leading him to recognize the true power within his own kind.

► From the same Region or People

East Asia
- Japanese Lore

Learn more about Japanese Mythology & Folklore

Mr. Nedzumi, the Rat, was an important personage in the hamlet where he lived–at least he was so in his own and his wife’s estimation. This was in part, of course, due to the long line of ancestors from whom he was descended, and to their intimate association with the gods of Good Fortune. For, be it remembered, his ancestry went back into a remote past, in fact as far as time itself; for had not one of his race been selected as the first animal in the cycle of the hours, precedence being even given him over the dragon, the tiger, and the horse? As to his intimacy with the gods, had not one of his forebears been the chosen companion of the great Daikoku, the most revered and the most beneficent of the gods of Good Fortune?

► Continue reading…

Mr. Rat was well-to-do in life. His home had for generations been established in a snug, warm and cosy bank, hard by one of the most fertile rice-fields on the country-side, where crops never failed, and where in spring he could nibble his fill of the young green shoots, and in autumn gather into his storerooms supplies of the ripened grain sufficient for all his wants during the coming winter.

For his needs were not great. Entertainment cost him but little, and, unlike his fellows, he had the smallest of families, in fact a family of one only.

But, as regards that one, quality more than compensated for quantity, for it consisted of a daughter, of a beauty unsurpassed in the whole province. He himself had been the object of envy in his married life, for he had had the good fortune to marry into a family of a very select piebald breed, which seldom condescended to mix its blood with the ordinary self-coloured tribe, and now his daughter had been born a peerless white, and had received the name of Yuki, owing to her resemblance to pure snow.

It is little wonder, then, that as she grew up beautiful in form and feature, her father’s ambitions were fired, and that he aspired to marry her to the highest in the land.

As it happened, the hamlet where he lived was not very far removed from a celebrated temple, and Mr. Rat, having been brought up in the odour of sanctity, had all his life long been accustomed to make pilgrimages to the great shrine. There he had formed the acquaintance of an old priest, who was good enough to provide for him out of the temple offerings in return for gossip as to the doings of his village, which happened to be that in which the priest had been born and bred. To him the rat had often unburdened his mind, and the old priest had come to see his friend’s self-importance and his little weaknesses, and had in vain impressed upon him the virtues of humility.

Now Mr. Rat could find no one amongst his village companions to inform him where to attain what had now become an insatiable desire, namely, a fine marriage for his daughter. So he turned to the temple custodian for advice, and one summer morn found him hammering on the gong which summoned his friend the priest.

“Welcome, Mr. Rat; to what am I indebted for your visit?” said the old priest, for experience had shown him that his friend seldom came so far afield unless he had some request to make.

Thereupon Mr. Rat unburdened himself of all that was in his mind, of his aspiration, and of the difficulty he had in ascertaining in what manner he could obtain it.

Nor did the priest immediately satisfy him, for he said the matter was a difficult one, and would require much consideration. However, on the third day the oracle gave answer as follows: “There is no doubt that apart from the gods there is no one so powerful, or who exercises so beneficent a rule over us, as His Majesty the Sun. Had I a daughter, and did I aspire to such heights for her as you do, I should make my suit to him, and I should take the opportunity of so doing when he comes down to our earth at sundown, for then it is that he decks himself in his most gorgeous apparel; moreover, he is more readily approached when his day’s work is done, and he is about to take his well-earned rest. Were I you I would lose no time, but present myself in company with your honourable wife and daughter to him this very evening at the end of the great Cryptomeria Avenue at the hour when he especially honours it by flooding it with his beams.”

“A thousand thanks,” said Mr. Rat. “No time is to be lost if I am to get my folk together at the time and place you mention.”

“Good fortune to you,” said the priest; “may I hail you the next time I see you as father-in-law to His Majesty the Sun.”

At the appointed hour parents and daughter were to be seen in the avenue, robed in their finest clothes; and as the sun came earthwards and his rays illumined the gloom under the great pines, Mr. Rat, noway abashed, addressed His Majesty and at once informed him of his desire.

His Majesty, evidently considering that one business personage addressing another should not waste time in beating about the bush, replied as follows: “I am extremely beholden to you for your kind intention of allowing me to wed your honourable and beautiful daughter, O Yuki San, but may I ask your reason for selecting me to be your honourable son-in-law?”

To this Mr. Rat replied, “We have determined to marry our daughter to whoever is the most powerful personage in the world, and that is why we desire to offer her to you in marriage.”

“Yes,” said His Majesty, “you are certainly not without reason in imagining me to be the most august and powerful person in the world; but, unfortunately, it has been my misfortune to discover that there is one other even more powerful than myself, against whose plottings I have no power. It is to him that you should very certainly marry your daughter.”

“And may we honourably ask you who that potentate may be?” said Mr. Rat.

“Certainly,” rejoined the Sun. “It is the Cloud. Oftentimes when I have set myself to illumine the world he comes across my path and covers my face so that my subjects may not see me, and so long as he does this I am altogether in his power. If, therefore, it is the most powerful personage in the world whom you seek for your daughter, the honourable O Yuki San, you must bestow her on no one else than the Cloud.”

It required little consideration for both father and mother to see the wisdom of the Sun’s advice, and upon his suggestion they determined to wait on the Cloud at the very earliest opportunity, and at an hour before he rose from his bed, which he usually made on the slopes of a mountain some leagues removed from their village. So they set out, and a long journey they had, so long that Mr. Rat decided that if he was to present his daughter when she was looking her best, the journey must not be hurried. Consequently, instead of arriving at early dawn, it was full afternoon when they neared the summit where the Cloud was apparently wrapped in slumber. But he roused himself as he saw the family approaching, and bade them welcome in so urbane a manner that the Rat at once proceeded to lay his request before him.

To this the Cloud answered, “I am indeed honoured by your condescension in proposing that I should marry your beauteous daughter, O Yuki San. It is quite true, as His August Majesty the Sun says, that when I so desire I have the strength to stay him from exercising his power upon his subjects, and I should much esteem the privilege of wedding your daughter. But as you would single out for that honour the most powerful person in the world, you must seek out His Majesty the Wind, against whom I have no strength, for as soon as he competes with me for supremacy I must fain fly away to the ends of the earth.”

“You surprise me,” said the Rat, “but I take your word for it. I would, therefore, ask you whether His Majesty the Wind will be this way shortly, and where I may best meet him.”

“I am afraid I cannot tell you at the moment when he is likely to be this way. He usually announces his coming by harrying some of my subjects who act as my outposts, but, as you see, they are now all resting quietly. His Majesty is at this moment, I believe, holding a court far out in the Eastern Seas. Were I you I would go down to the seashore and await his coming. He is often somewhat inclined to be short-tempered by the time he gets up into these mountainous parts, owing to the obstructions he has met with on his journey, and he will have had few of these vexatious annoyances during his ride over the sea.”

Now, although from the slopes of the mountain the sea looked not very far distant, it was in reality a long way for a delicately-nurtured young lady such as Yuki, and every mile of the journey that she had to traverse increased her querulousness. Her father had often boasted of the journeys that he had taken down to the coast, free of cost, concealed in a truck-load of rice, and she would take no excuses that there was no railway to the point at which they were to await His Highness the Wind, although had there been it would never have done for a party engaged on such an embassy to ride in a railway truck. Nor was her humour improved by the time they had to wait in the very second-rate accommodation afforded by a fishing hamlet, as none of them were accustomed to a fish fare. But after many days there were signs that the great personage was arriving, and they watched with some trepidation his passage over the sea, although when, in due time, he neared the shore they could hardly credit the Cloud’s assurance as to his strength, for he seemed the personification of all that was gentle; and Madame Rat at once interposed the remark that you should never judge a person’s character by what you hear, and that the Cloud evidently owed the Wind a grudge.

So the Rat at once unburdened himself to the Wind as it came over the water towards him, making its face ripple with smiles. And the Wind itself was in the fairest good humour and addressed the Rat as follows: “Mr. Cloud is a flatterer, and knows full well that I have no power against him when he really comes up against me in one of his thunderous moods. To call me the most powerful person in the world is nonsense. Where do you come from? Why, in that very village there is one stronger than me, namely, the high wall that fences in the house of your good neighbour. If your daughter must fain marry the strongest thing in the world, wed her to the wall. You will find him a very stalwart spouse. I wish you good day. I am sorry I cannot offer you a seat in my chariot, but I am not going in the direction of that wall to-day, else I should have had much pleasure in introducing your honourable self to my powerful antagonist.”

By this time the party was getting much disheartened, and the stress of the journey and the chagrin of so many disappointments were beginning to tell on O Yuki San’s beauty. But Mr. Rat said there was nothing for it but to return home; he knew the wall in question very well, but had no idea it stood so high in the world’s estimation–he had always thought of it as somewhat of a dullard.

So they trudged homewards, and it was weary work, for the Cloud had hidden the Sun, and the Wind had fretted the Cloud, who showed his ill-humour by discharging a surplusage of moisture he had in his pocket, and they approached their home wet through, bedraggled and worn out. As luck would have it, just as they gained the wall which the wind had singled out for its power, a heavier downpour than ever came on and they were glad to take shelter under the lee of the wall. Now Mr. Wall had always been known for his inquisitive nature, which, it is said, arose from one side of his face never being able to see what was going on on the other; and so hearing his leeward side addressing Mr. Rat, and ascertaining that he had come from the sea, the windward side at once asked whether he had any tidings of that scoundrel the Wind, who was always coming and chafing his complexion.

“Why,” said Mr. Rat, “we met him but recently, and he desired to be remembered to you, who, he said, was the strongest person in the world.”

“I the strongest! It shows his ignorance. Why, only yesterday your nephew, the big brown rat, because he would not be at the trouble of going round, must needs gnaw a hole through me. The strongest thing in the world! Why, next time the wind comes this way he’ll rush through the hole and be telling your nephew that he’s the strongest person in the world.”

At this moment the rain stopped, the clouds rolled by, and the sun shone out, and Mr. and Mrs. Rat went home congratulating themselves that they had not had to demean themselves by proposing their daughter in marriage to a neighbour with such a false character.

And a month afterwards O Yuki San expressed her determination to marry her cousin, and her parents were fain to give their consent, for had he not proved himself to be the most powerful person in the world?