Fairy Tales Archives - the bird on fire

Tinalina: Girl from the Grass

March 22, 2023 by szachik@pvs.org 2 Comments

By Eighth-Grader Louisa Richardson

Once Upon A Time…

. . . There lived a small fairy. She lived on the great lawn of Buckingham Palace. Her house was an old peanut shell which was practically a mansion compared to the Mushroom Apartments she and her family used to live in. This little fairy girl’s name was Tinalina. She was an ordinary little fairy girl who lived with her two brothers and one sister. However, she tragically lost her fairy father due to an incident involving one of the Palace Guard’s shoes.

Tina often thought about that day. She wondered if the humans knew that they existed. Her kind had always lived in harmony with the other animals big and small in the lawn. Tina had never really been outside of the gates surrounding the lawn; she heard rumors about tunnels leading to the outside world. However, many families at fairy school had lost a family member or friend due to shoes or, worse, a tire. Venturing out of the great lawn was always a consideration to Tina as a little hatchling, but there were those stories involving the horrors of the outside world. Because of this, Tinalina was always very cautious when venturing outside her peanut.

One day while walking to school, she saw something amazing–it was a tunnel leading to the sidewalks outside of the gates. The tunnels existed. She immediately ran to inspect it. Tinalina had never seen over the grass, so she wasn’t really sure who lived outside the gates. She imagined it was probably more grasshoppers and ladybugs. Curiosity grabbed a hold of her, and, before she knew it, she was climbing down into the tunnel, but as she tried to make her way down, she caught her wing on a little ledge. All of the sudden, she fell into the deep dark pit.

After falling to the very bottom of the tunnel, she looked around. All around her were beautiful crystals, and a small sign with an arrow stating, “Outside World This Way.” Tina was so small, she never really knew that there was more to the Outside World beyond the Buckingham Palace lawn. Tinalina’s curiosity got the better of her, and she ventured out in the direction of the sign. Once she reached beyond the sign, she noticed that the tunnel lost the crystals that lined the walls, and things started to get very dark and gloomy. Finally, she saw a light. She ran to the end of the tunnel. Outside was a huge shoe. It was bigger than any of the grasshoppers she’d seen before, even bigger than a pinecone! All she could do was stand perfectly still until the foot passed with a loud thud. Tina’s mouth hung open as she watched all the commotion and chaos outside the tunnel–huge children screaming, gigantic mothers chasing, and enormous couples pointing at the castle. Tina was in awe. She took a step into the new world and began to explore. She flew over the traveling cars and took a closer look at the palace. It was one of the most beautiful places she has ever seen. All of a sudden, she heard someone clear their throat. She felt someone pluck her out of the air, and before she could even think, she was aggressively thrown into a dark, moist, bag.

TO BE CONTINUED

A Clam Thanksgiving

October 20, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

A Traditional Re-Telling, by Renowned Clamologist Levi Kassinove

Platitudinous as it was, the clams rested year-round on the sandy ocean floor. After all, do clams migrate? Do they flap their little halves and swim around twice a year? It doesn’t matter. A clam is what a clam is. A lowly, pathetic filter-feeder. Humans have them for dinner all the time with pasta. They are NOTHING to the animal kingdom. They are but a meager source of protein and tedious work for us. It is truly a pain for animals to bust open their shells, only to find a lackluster gob of flesh on the inside. Despite this rather insensitive banter about clams, which is obviously discussed among all other animals on a constant basis, clams are thankful.

A clam has its own little clam family, just like you and me. It is thankful for the bacteria that wafts in its direction, possibly providing sustenance. I don’t know what a filter feeder eats. Maybe it’s algae…. Nevermind, it’s plankton (bioexplorer.net). The fact of the matter is, even if one suffers from clampression, or is currently going through a clamcession, or is even in the midst of a global clamdemic, clams will stand (rest?) strong because of their hard outer shell.

Clams have a marvelous ability to stand vis-à-vis with an octopus and not move a muscle. One clam is cornered. Our cornered clam senses he isn’t skilled or strong enough to avoid octopus calamity. It’s inevitable that this clam is gonna die. He’s gonna get crushed. All the other clams escaped from the octopus confrontation. They called upon their octopus-evasion skills; he wanted to be like them. But deep down, the clam knew he wasn’t as talented as the other clams. All he’s left to ask is…why isn’t he enough? To him, it seemed that everyone else was naturally better at life than him. Sure, he held his own in most aspects of life, but escaping an octopus? Clearly he did not have the talent. He was effectively worthless–not because of the octopus, but because of the other clams. See, if they had all died, he would feel totally content with his failure. He would happily accept death by octopus. But the fact of the matter was that he was the runt of the litter. He had to accept that. His misery sunk him so low that he actually started physically sinking into the sand. He disappeared under a blanket of wallow and self-loathing and small oceanic granules. The octopus scoffed and swam away.

Levi says, “The inner mind of animals are all alike in their inherent struggles”
(Photo Source: ktla.com).

Then, suddenly, a giant evolved-monkey appeared in the water. At least, that was what it looked like to the clam. It grabbed the clam along with his family, which was like 15 other clams. The diver put the clams in a bag and threw them onto a boat. And, it was then, riding in a boat to their inevitable deaths by some chef at an Italian restaurant, that the clams celebrated Thanksgiving. Every clam knows that they are about to die. And yet, they celebrate the lives that they have lived. Our protagonist clam must forgive himself. Was it his life that he should be thankful for? Or rather, should he be thankful that HE has to carry the burden of being a worthless piece of shellfish? At least, the clam proposes to himself, he is punished with this terrible burden, rather than another clam. The clam would rather he suffer than another. He may not have forgiven himself, but he has forgiven The Almighty Clam. And that is why he is thankful. For he is…a clam.

Has Levi Been to Area 51?

January 20, 2022 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

Ever wonder how it would feel to float above your body and look down on it? Levi Kassinove goes in depth on astral projection. Levi, true to form, goes on to explain his thoughts on the matter. Is it all just a mind trip, or is it time travel? Maybe you would like to try it yourself. – Editor Abigail Horwitt

By Levi Kassinove, Conspiracy Theorist

Astral projection, or an out-of-body experience, is when someone gets the sensation that they’ve detached from their physical body. We’ve seen it on Netflix documentaries like Surviving Death; we’ve heard people say in surgery they watch themselves from above; maybe you’ve traveled outside the confines of your physical self. Oftentimes people feel like they’re dying when their “astral self” floats above their body; this may be where the idea of a soul comes from. When people from thousands of years ago experienced astral projection, they may have explained it by thinking we had souls. This could also be the cause of alien abduction stories. According to an NBC News story, what people believe to be alien abduction might actually just be a lucid dream or out-of-body experience. Michael Raduga, lead researcher at the Out-of-Body Experience Research Center in Los Angeles, designed an experiment to “test his theory that many reports of alien encounters are actually instances of people experiencing a vibrant, lifelike state of dreaming” (amazon.com). He surmised, if he could “coach people to dream of a realistic alien encounter, . . . that could prove that many reports of such encounters . . . are really just products of peoples’ imaginations” (NBC news). Astral projection is indeed a real phenomenon, but its true nature is not entirely understood. What exactly is astral projection?

Many of you have heard of lucid dreaming, which is the event in which sleepers become aware of the fact that they are dreaming. Most astral projectors you talk to (Jesse Denyer) will tell you that lucid dreaming is completely different from astral projection. Countless people on Reddit support this anecdotally, and some even claim that “lucid dreaming is controlled hallucinations while astral projection is a true vision” (Reddit thread).

A lot of the things people claim to be able to do during astral projection are similar to what’s possible in a lucid dream. You can visit any place you want, eat any food you want, meet any person you want, and pretty much anything else. However, in lucid dreaming, you need some frame of reference. Some people say that you can’t project to forbidden places. For instance, one anonymous internet user said, “since 99.9% of people on earth have never been inside Area 51 and haven’t the slightest idea what it is like inside, it’s a sort of blank area in their minds”(I sincerely apologize for having to crawl to Reddit, but it’s astral projection so what did you expect?). So it may just be a dream after all where your brain could only fill in what you could already visualize. Maybe Lilah, who claims she has aphantasia, should try astral projection. Maybe, astral projection is a form of lucid dreaming. The methods I’ve read about for astral projection all indirectly or directly say that you have to be half-asleep for it to work. You have to either attempt it immediately after you wake up, or relax your body to the point where you’ll fall asleep.

I don’t believe that lucid dreaming and astral projection are the exact same thing, as lucid dreaming involves awakening in the middle of a deep dream, but they are certainly related. Astral projection seems to be, like lucid dreaming, a weird, in-between state of lucidity and dreaming while the person is awake. Try it. Some people claim to be able to time travel and visit dinosaurs, so why wouldn’t you want to try that? If you’re interested in attempting astral projection, Michael Raduga outlines various ways to do so in his free ebook, titled The Phase. It’s a 400-page mind-labyrinth that crosses theory with reality a bit too much, but it explains ways to hallucinate. If you’ve already had an out-of-body experience, tell me about it in the comments.

Levi projecting what astral projecting looks like.

*The views presented by Blogger Kassinove do not represent the views of thebirdonfire.org.

The Old Beggar-Woman–A Fairy Tale Re-Telling

April 29, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

It’s been a while. We go back, with this post, to the storytelling of tale aficionado Harlow Berny.

By Harlow Berny

Centuries ago, in a long forgotten kingdom, there was an old woman. Surely you have seen a beggar before. The woman begged the same, always saying, “God bless you,” when given anything, be it a shiny coin or a small piece of stale bread. Once, the old woman walked to the door of an old house, and there, by a burning fireplace, was a friendly young man. “Come, old mother; warm yourself,” he said to the old woman as she shivered in the doorway. “God bless you,” she said as she stepped closer to the warmth. However, she stepped too close and her clothes caught fire. She did not notice, but the young man did, and he jumped to his feet. He looked around for a pail of water, but finding none, he began to weep. His streams of tears fell on the flames and quenched them before they touched the old woman’s skin. She turned toward the young man and said with a smile upon her face, “God bless you.”

Editor: Holden Hartle

A Re-Telling of Grimm’s

The Puppet Cuts Free

March 1, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org 2 Comments

A Fable by Guest Blogger Charles Schnell

At the top of a grassy hill almost untouched by humankind, his house stood basking almost too closely to the sun. He was the proud owner of the house on the hill. He was the one who made the dolls. And, he was a puppet.

Everyday, the puppet had to wake up, find himself at the desk in his study with his strings still attached, and get to work again. His life consisted of being hunched over his wooden desk, delicately weaving and stitching dolls together. Eighty dolls a day, to be exact. Six days a week–this would be the puppet’s routine: wake up; make eighty dolls; go to sleep.

Then, on the seventh day, the puppet would have to make his way to the village and deliver the dolls to the market. The strings attached to the hands of the heavens led the puppet’s way.

Walking back to his workshop on the hill, the puppet would have to hear the same comments from the villagers.

“Yeah, the dolls are nice. But what else do you do?”

“Wow, how do you come up with so many new designs? Every week you have something new!”

“Where do you see yourself in four years?”

In the beginning, the puppet tried answering these questions, but he always found himself at a loss for words, and the strings of the heavens do not stop for their puppets. So, he gave up and returned to his house on the hill in silence.

This all continued long enough for millions of dolls to have come spilling out of the puppet’s soul. Until one day, the doll stopped. He dropped his roll of yarn and did not pick it up again. The heavens tugged and pulled on the strings, but the puppet did not concede. In fact, that day, the puppet took his yarn cutting scissors, raised them up while resisting the tugging of the heavens, and cut his strings.

Freed, he could no longer sense the heavens. All contact was cut. And for once, he left his house on a day that was not the seventh day.

At first, he liked the town. He liked being able to roam without the strings. And, for the first time, the villagers saw a smile on the puppet’s face.

Freedom did not come without its drawbacks, however. His newly found freedom caused newly found anxiety. Without his strings, the puppet had nowhere to go.

No, he had too many places to go, too many choices. That led to the puppet’s insecurity and anxiety. Pretty soon, the smile disappeared from his face.

The puppet continued on for a long time like this: anxious and insecure. But, one day he faced what he knew he had to do.

He returned to his old house on the hill, his desk, his workshop, his yarn, his scissors he cut himself free with.

He took a deep breath. He realized what he was about to do was for the best. He took the remnants of his strings to the heavens. He proceed with great care as he slowly and reluctantly stitched and spliced the strings together again. The heavens, seeing they had control once more, worked their magic, and the puppet fell asleep.

The next morning, the puppet awoke to his familiar life. The hill was untouched; the house was close to the sun; and the puppet made eighty more dolls.

Editor: Luke Langlois

The Lord’s Animals and The Devil’s–A Fairy Tale Re-Telling

January 9, 2019 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

Retold By Harlow Berny

Centuries ago, in a long forgotten kingdom, God created all animals and chose the wolf to be his dog. God had forgotten, however, to create the goat. The devil saw this and began to create his own animals, among which was the goat that God had forgotten. He gave the goats long, bushy tails, but when they grazed in the pastures they caught in hedges. The devil grew tired of untangling his goats, so he herded them together and bit their tails down, leaving them with the stubs we see today.

After He knew they wouldn’t get caught again, He let his goats roam the fields alone, but soon God saw how they gnawed at fruit trees, chomped through hardy vines, and devoured blooming wildflowers. God became distressed and sent his wolves to stop the goats, and in doing so the goats were torn to pieces. The devil heard the cries of his goats and returned to find nothing but blood-stained grass and wolves. He went to God and screamed, “Why have your creatures destroyed mine!?”

“Why have you created things that do harm?” God responded.

“Damn you! My creations ate nothing but plants; yours are the ones that commit murder!”

“The goats had eaten trees, vines, and flowers instead of fruits and vegetables. They were hardly innocent creatures.”

“My thoughts and being run on chaos and disorder, and as such my creations can have no other nature. You owe me heavily for the herd you’ve killed,” said the devil.

“I will pay you as soon as the oak leaves fall. Come then and your money will be ready.”

The devil waited for Autumn, and once he heard the final leaf drop to the ground and crunch beneath a human’s foot, he went forth to God and demanded his due. However, once he arrived he was shocked by what he saw.

“As you can see, not all the oak leaves have fallen, devil,” God said gesturing to the old church behind the woods, which was surrounded by tall hollyoaks.

“Evergreens?!” the devil shouted. “You’ve tricked me, old man!”

“Not quite. I said when all the oak leaves fall, not when Autumn comes. You will have to wait until those trees decide that they’ve lived long enough, and are ready to rest.”

“Damn you! Damn you and all your creations!” The devil huffed out flames before leaving again with his goats. He pulled their eyes out and replaced them with his own, so that he may watch over them and alert them of danger. This is how goats got their short tails and devil eyes, and why the devil likes to assume their shape when walking upon the earth.

Editor: Makena Behnke

A Re-Telling of Grimm’s

The Peasant and The Devil–A Fairy Tale Re-Telling

November 28, 2018 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

Retold By Harlow Berny

Centuries ago, in a long forgotten kingdom, there was a foresighted and crafty peasant renowned for his trickery. The best story of his clever deception was when he made a deal with the devil and pulled the wool over his eyes. The peasant had been working in his field all day, and as he readied to journey back home with twilight setting in, he saw a pile of burning coals lying in the middle of the field. As he got closer, he was astonished to find a small black devil sitting on the pile, grinning with its golden teeth.

“Why are you sitting in that fire?” the peasant asked.

“I’m guarding my treasure,” responded the devil; “it has more gold and silver than you’ve ever seen in your life.”

The peasant thought for a bit, before saying, “If this treasure lies in my field, then it belongs to me. It’ll more than make up for the crops you’ve burned.” He gestured to the ashes and blackened leaves surrounding the coals.

“It’s yours, if you give me half of everything your field grows for two years. I have plenty of money hidden around the world, but I have a desire for the fruits of the earth.”

“Fine,” said the peasant, “but so no disputes arise about the division, everything above ground shall be yours, and everything below shall be mine.”

The peasant and the devil agreed to these terms, with the devil believing he had gotten the better end. What he didn’t know, however, was that the peasant had sown turnips.

When a year had passed and the devil came again, the devil found nothing but withered leaves, while the delighted peasant dug up his turnips. “You’ve bested me this time,” said the devil, “but next year it won’t happen again. What grows above ground shall be yours, and what’s under shall be mine.” The peasant agreed to this, but when he sowed his crops, he used wheat seeds instead of turnip. The grain grew ripe, and the peasant cut the stalks down to the dirt. When the devil came once more, he found nothing but stubble and roots, and stomped off in a fury. “This might be my greatest trick yet!” shouted the peasant as he carried away his wheat and treasure.

Editor: Luke Langlois

A Re-Telling of Grimm’s

The Nail–A Fairy Tale Re-Telling

October 18, 2018 by szachik@pvs.org 1 Comment

Retold by Harlow Berny

Centuries ago, in a long forgotten kingdom, a merchant had finished his business at a local fair. He had sold all his trinkets and toys, leaving his money sacks filled with gold and silver. He packed his trunk with money and mounted it onto his horse before he traveled homewards, hoping to be back home before nightfall.

At mid-day he stopped in a town, leaving his horse in a stable while he rested and ate. When he went to collect his horse to continue on his way, the stableboy told him that one of the nails on its rear shoe was loose. “Let it stay loose,” the merchant said; “it only needs to stay for another six miles. I’m in a hurry to be home.” In the afternoon when he stopped to eat again, another stableboy told him that his horse was missing a shoe on its rear foot. When asked if his horse should be taken to a blacksmith for a new one, the merchant said, “Let it be missing. The horse can hold out for the last few miles until I’m home.”

He rode along the path again, but soon after departure his horse began to limp, and soon it was stumbling. The horse eventually threw the merchant off its back before falling down and breaking its leg. The man unbuckled the trunk from the horse’s saddle and hiked back home, leaving the steed behind. He got home after midnight, and found that much of his gold had fallen out of a crack in the chest that formed when his horse fell. “Damn that loose nail!” he shouted, furious at his loss.

Let this be a lesson; the bigger the rush, the worse the results.

Editor: Holden Hartle

A Re-Telling of Grimm’s

The Ungrateful Son–A Fairy Tale Re-Telling

September 19, 2018 by szachik@pvs.org 1 Comment

Retold by Harlow Berny

Centuries ago, in a long forgotten kingdom, a man and his wife sat at their table by the open door of their house, and before them lay a roasted chicken. The man saw his old, graying father walking toward the door, so he hid the chicken under the table as he wanted to keep as much as possible for himself. The old father came, drank a cup of water, and went away. The son went to put the chicken on the table again, but when he picked it up, it had been replaced by a giant toad. The creature jumped onto the son’s face and sat there forever, and if anyone tried to remove it from his face, the toad would glare at them venomously, as if it would jump onto their face instead. The ungrateful son was forced to live with the toad on his face and to feed it everyday, for if he didn’t, the toad would feed on the son’s face. He went the rest of his life like this, knowing no rest or peace.

Editor: Luke Langlois

A Re-Telling of Grimm’s

Death’s Messengers–A Fairy Tale Re-Telling

May 10, 2018 by szachik@pvs.org Leave a Comment

Graphic by Harlow Berny

Retold by Harlow Berny

Centuries ago, in a long forgotten kingdom, a giant was walking through a mountain pass, when suddenly a female figure cloaked in white jumped out before him and shouted, “Stop! Walk no further!”

“What?” bellowed the giant, “Does this fragile pebble try to block my path? What does it think it is?”

“I am Death,” answered the figure, “and your time has come, as it comes for all.” But, upon hearing this, the giant grew infuriated and raised his fist to the sky. Before Death could retaliate, the giant had crushed her with a devastating blow. Seeing Death on the ground, the giant laughed and continued on.

What will happen, thought Death, if I just stay here on the ground? No one will die, and the world will become so full that people will not have enough room to merely stand side by side. They will not be able to grow food to eat, not be able to sleep, and not be able to avoid disease. Despite this, they will not die, and thus will be condemned to eternal pain and suffering in a new hell.

As Death lay on the ground, lost in thought, a young and healthy man came along the road, singing as he gazed at the forest below. As he did so, he glanced upon Death, and rushed to her aid, leaning her against a nearby rock and giving her water from his canteen.

Once she had finished drinking, she softly spoke. “Would you happen to know who I am, kind man?”

“No,” he answered, glad that she had recovered.

“I am Death, the one who visits all at the moment of their passing. I can spare no one, and can make no exception–but I am grateful for the kindness you have shown me today. I promise that I shall send you messages before I come to take you from this world.”

“Well,” said the man, “there is something gained from knowing when you will come. If anything, I shall certainly have many years before you visit me again!” He and Death went their separate ways, both grateful for the encounter. The man, however, did not remain healthy for long, as he soon fell bedridden with a violent fever which took away his sleep. Despite the grim prospect that this sickness presented, the man stayed confident that he would live through it, as Death had yet to send her messengers. As he had predicted, he recovered quickly and went on in life merrily. That is, until a week after he had become healthy again, someone tapped his shoulder and whispered his name.

“….H–l-w -e-ny….” The man spun around and was shocked to find Death herself standing behind him. “The time has come for you to leave this world and move to the other.”

“What?” shouted the man. “Did you not tell me that you would send your messengers to warn me of your coming? I have seen none, yet here you stand.”

“Silly man,” Death said, “has fever not come to remind you of me? Has not the cracking of your bones in the morning, the aching tooth in your mouth, and the darkness of the night reminded you of your skeleton decomposing? Furthermore, has not my brother Sleep reminded you of me every night, as you lay in bed as you will lie in your coffin?”

Hearing all of this, the man saw how Death had made a fool of him. But, it was not anger that he felt, nor was it sadness. He smiled and walked side by side with Death, content that his life had not ended with blood, but with joke.

Editor: Bella Bier

A Re-Telling of Grimm’s