The Story of Persephone

Just a few seeds never hurt anyone. Right?

Salutations, reader. This week, I thought we'd look at a myth we probably all know. The Story of Persephone is the ancient Greeks' way of explaining the seasons. If you want to brush up on the myth, click on the link. If not, continue reading and analyze it with me.

There's one thing I want to point out before we get too far into this. Zeus was Persephone's father. So, when Hades was asking Zeus' permission to marry Persephone, he was abiding by the rules at the time. (We don't need to dwell too much on how all of the gods were related.) What both Zeus and Hades failed to do was talk to Demeter, Persephone's mom. This was probably another cultural norm, but since Zeus didn't spend any time with his daughter (to be fair, he had far, far too many kids to spend time with all of them), that meant that neither Persephone nor Demeter knew about this betrothal. Does that mean it still happened? Either way, when Hades came to claim his bride, he was technically allowed to do so. But only technically. I'm not sure why he thought he could kidnap Persephone and Demeter would just let her go. Or why he thought being so secretive was a good idea in the first place.

Moving on. Demeter, overcome with grief, refused to do her godly duties and make things grow. Apparently, her neglect even made the rivers shrivel up. I understand that she was deeply upset about her daughter being kidnapped. That makes perfect sense. What worries me is that Demeter was willing to kill lots of people because she was upset by causing this famine. I don't really see her as this caring, nurturing god anymore. At least, not to humans. At the same time, she didn't have any other ways to show how upset she was. Simply telling Zeus that it wasn't okay to barter off her daughter to someone else didn't seem to do anything. He had no problem agreeing to the match and leaving Demeter (and Persephone) out of the loop. Demeter was stuck in a tricky position. She chose her daughter over the humans of the earth, but I'm not sure I can blame her for that.

We see that either Persephone got Stockholm syndrome, or Hades was actually a pretty great guy and she fell in love with him. However, this story explicitly tells us that Persephone was tricked into eating the pomegranate seeds. She didn't think it would matter and, of course, Hades wasn't going to tell her otherwise. Hades was trying to leverage the gods' rules to keep his wife in the underworld with him. However, he didn't count on being up against Demeter. He should have known how stubborn and forceful she was, since she's his sister. Sorry, I wasn't going to dwell on how they're all related. Anyway, I think it's a good thing they had quick-witted Hermes there to negotiate the deal, or Persephone could have ended up split in half. Demeter, never one to take back her claims, decided that when Persephone was in the underworld, she wouldn't let anything grow, and we know this time as autumn and winter. ...which leads me to my next question: is the Southern Hemisphere just opposite of what Demeter does, or is Persephone the goddess of autumn instead of spring in the Southern Hemisphere?

The moral of this story is: if you want to marry someone, talk it out with both of their parents. And that person. Alternatively, if you're going to kidnap someone and have them fall in love with you, be extra tricky so they don't get stolen back. Poor Persephone is basically a piece of treasure and not a god in this story.

Did you like that analysis? Have another point I missed? Would you like me to talk about a different story? Comment below!

Cindy-Ella

Hello again. Last week, I analyzed Cinderella. This week, I'm writing a modern version of the fairy tale.

Not every girl loses her shoe to gain a prince.

Ella hated working mornings at Royal Latte. The tips were better in the morning, but she was always tired when she came in and the customers were usually grumpy before they got their coffee. Or lattes. Or special creations that you had better get right. This morning, she had barely made it through the barrage and now she was cleaning up the little things that got out of order during the rush while Kristen, her coworker, took orders from the last few people.

"Rough night?" Kristen asked her when the last commuter had left with his coffee.

"How did you know?" Ella asked.

"Wrong apron," Kristen said, nodding at Ella.

Ella looked down and sighed. Her name tag proudly read, "Cindy". It wasn't the first time Ella had grabbed the wrong apron and it probably wouldn't be the last. "I was up too late," Ella said.

"Hanging out with the boy?" Kristen asked.

Ella pursed her lips and began to wash the blender.

"Is he done with school yet?" Kristen continued. "Or is he still in college?"

"We broke up, okay?" Ella asked.

"Oh," Kristen replied. "I'm sorry."

Ella sighed and set the blender down to dry. "He was an asshole anyway. I'm probably better off."

"So, how's your art going?" Kristen asked, rapidly changing the subject.

Ella smiled. "Really well. I've got a few pieces going up at a gallery this weekend, actually."

"Your first big break!" Kristen cheered. "When and where? I need to be there."

Ella laughed a little. "It's at the Vernon Gallery this Friday. The show opens at 7."

Kristen pulled out her phone and put that in her calendar. "I'll be there, but I'll be late."

Just then, the door opened and a man walked in holding a few brightly colored papers. He looked more tired than Ella. "Good morning, ladies," he said.

"Good morning," Ella replied professionally.

"Is there a community bulletin board here?"

"Of course." Ella pointed it out.

"Thanks," he said, shuffling over.

"So, the Vernon gallery?" Kristen asked. "That's downtown, right?"

"Sure is," the man replied. "You both should come by this Friday. My band is playing."

"Oh?" Kristen asked, looking quickly at Ella.

"Yeah," he replied. "My band is called Charming. We're a Prince tribute band. I'm the singer."

"I knew there was going to be music there, but I didn't know it would be Prince," Ella replied. "That's cool."

"You know about it already?" the man asked.

"She's one of the featured artists," Kristen bragged.

"Really?" The man looked at her apron. "Then I'll keep an eye out for you, Cindy." He waved and left the shop.

"Why didn't you correct him?" Kristen asked Ella.

Ella shrugged. "He was already leaving and what does it matter? I probably won't even see him at the gallery. He'll be busy singing and I'll be busy schmoozing and telling people what my art means."

"What does it mean?" Kristen asked.

"Well, a lot of the paintings were about Jack and me so... Prince is the perfect music to go with it."

Kristen laughed. "Now I have to see this stuff! Oh, but are you okay to talk about it?"

Ella shrugged sadly. "I guess I'll have to be by Friday."

"Just don't drink too much," Kristen advised.

Ella laughed. "I'll try not to. So, what have you been up to?"

Kristen shrugged. "Pondering existence and why I'm working as a barista with a bachelor's degree."

"Aren't we all?" Ella replied. "Of course, since you're working on your master's full time, it's not like you could have a standard office job."

"I'm slowly killing myself instead," Kirsten replied nonchalantly.

Ella was about to ask her something else when another customer came in with an order for what must have been her whole office and the two baristas were kept busy for awhile.

-

Ella tried to swallow around the lump in her throat. It wasn't obvious that the subject of the paintings was anyone in particular, let alone her and Jack, but they were definitely intimate. She knew people would ask her who the guy was. She really didn't want to have to tell them that they'd broken up. Ella glanced over at the band setting up and saw the singer was looking at her. He smiled and waved. She smiled back and gave him a little wave as well. He started to walk over, but the guitarist grabbed his arm and pulled him back. They started their mic checks. From where Ella was standing, they were definitely loud enough.

The gallery owner bustled over to Ella and smiled. "All ready?" he asked.

"Sure," Ella said. She was about to ask if there were things she was supposed to say to the crowd, but the man replied, "Great!" and bustled away to the next artist.

It wasn't long after that when the doors opened and people started coming in. "We are Charming, a Prince tribute band," the singer announced. "1, 2, 3, 4." The band started playing Raspberry Beret.

"That'll set the tone for the evening," Ella thought wryly. Still, they were good and it was nice to have something to listen to when people were talking to other artists. Soon enough, though, those people moved on to her and Ella introduced herself as the artist of her pieces. She was surprised that she got more questions about her technique than the subjects of the paintings, but maybe she shouldn't have been. It was fairly abstract, after all.

Kristen and her boyfriend, Hank, came by close to the end of the show and it was nice to talk to people she knew for a bit, even if Kristen did make her blush with her comments about the paintings. "Ella, I never knew you were like that," Kristen said of one painting in particular.

Blushing furiously, Ella replied, "It's just a painting, Kristen. It's not me."

"I know. I'm just teasing," Kristen replied with a smile.

Ella shook her head and looked across the crowd, gauging the size. She had to work the morning shift again tomorrow and she couldn't stay up too late so she was hoping people would wander out soon. As she looked across the crowd, she saw Jack. Ella felt her stomach fall to the floor and she took a step backwards.

"Are you okay?" Kristen asked. When Ella didn't respond, she followed her gaze. "Oh shit," Kristen said. "Ella."

Ella slowly looked away from Jack and toward Kristen.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" Kristen asked.

"I'm not sure you can," Ella replied.

"Oh please. I'm the charm and he's the muscle," Kristen said, jerking her thumb at her boyfriend.

"Sure," Hank replied.

"No," Ella said. "I need to face him eventually."

"But now?" Kristen asked.

Ella took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Then there was no more time to talk because Jack was there.

"Hey," Jack said. "You look great."

"Thanks," Ella said flatly. She waited.

"Is that us?" Jack asked, looking at the paintings.

"No," Ella replied.

"It kind of looks like us," Jack said, looking at them again. "I mean, it's hard to tell what it is, but I think that's us."

"She said it wasn't," Kristen stepped in.

"And who are you?" Jack asked.

"Her friend," Kristen replied. "How about you tell her what you came to tell her, and then leave?"

"No need to get so aggressive," Jack said. "Ella knows I still love her, right Ella?"

Ella's lips were compressed into a line. She shook her head.

"Oh, come on, baby. I came here to take you back."

"No," Ella replied.

"No?" Jack asked. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"No," Ella said, looking at him for the first time. "I don't want to be with you any more. I'm done. If that's all you came to say, please leave."

Jack looked at her, then Kristen, and then Hank who was looming off to the side. "Fine," Jack said. "Geeze." Then he walked away.

"The gallery will be closing in five minutes," the owner said from the microphone. "But first, let's give all of our artists a hand, huh? Including Charming! What a great band!"

The audience clapped and cheered.

"Do you want to go?" Kristen asked Ella.

Ella shook her head. Then she looked up and blinked rapidly a few times. "No," she said, in a voice that was almost normal. "No, I need to stay until everyone else leaves." She looked at Kristen. "I'll be fine."

Kristen looked at her for a moment. "I can stay," Kristen offered.

Ella shook her head. "It's fine. I'll see you at work."

"Okay," Kristen said. "You call me if you need anything."

Ella smiled. "All right. Good night, Kristen."

"Good night," Kristen replied. She hugged Ella. Then she and Hank walked away.

After the gallery closed, the owner came bustling over to all of the artists to tell them what a smashing success this was. "Same time next week?" he asked Ella.

"What?" Ella asked.

"You've got more paintings, right?"

"These were the best ones," Ella said.

The owner waved away her objections. "If you want to add to them, I'll be willing to look at more of your work. If not, we'll just show these again. They were turning people away at the door. Do you want to do this again next week?"

"Yes," Ella said, realizing what was happening. "Yes, that's great."

"Excellent," the owner replied, beaming. "Yes, I think we'll keep the band, too. Perfect for this sort of art." He bustled away before Ella could say anything else. Still, with everything that happened that night, she drove home smiling.

-

The following Tuesday morning, Kirsten and Ella were working the morning shift at Royal Latte. Ella had taken a drunk phone call from Jack that past Saturday night and she was telling Kristen about it.

"He said he wanted you back?" Kristen asked.

Ella nodded. "He was sobbing. I know he was drunk, but it was hard not to believe him."

"You know he's a snake."

"That's the worst part. I do know, but we spent two and a half years together. Why did it take me so long to figure that out?"

"And you want to justify that time by making him seem like a better person," Kristen replied.

Ella sighed. "A little."

"It's okay to be wrong about people," Kristen told her. Just then, the door opened.

"Hey, I didn't get a chance to say it on Friday, but you've got some real talent." It was the lead singer from Charming. He smiled and looked at Ella's apron. "Ella?"

Ella laughed. "I had the wrong apron on before."

"I bet you've just got two names," the man said. "Cindy-Ella."

"And what is your name?" Kristen asked.

"Oh. I'm sorry. My name is Jason." He held out his hand for Ella to shake.

"Nice to meet you," Ella replied, shaking his hand.

"So, are you back in the gallery next week?" he asked Ella.

"Yup," Ella replied with a smile. "The owner likes my work."

"As he should. The passion on the canvas is incredible. Where did you get your inspiration?"

Ella's mind went blank. She certainly wasn't going to tell this man that her inspiration, the focus of all of her passion, was a snake of a man who she wanted nothing to do with. "Oh. Um."

"Prince songs, of course," Kirsten joked.

Jason laughed. "Of course. Well, I hope we inspired you to paint some more. Is it all right if I put up another flyer on the bulletin board?"

"Sure," Ella said.

"Thanks," Jason replied. "You're a gem, Cindy-Ella."

"Are you going to call me that?" Ella asked.

"Probably," Jason said, looking back at her. "Is that all right?"

Ella considered. "I suppose so. Should I call you Prince, then?"

"Nah, too confusing," Jason replied.

"It would have to be Prince Charming, then," Kristen replied with a smirk.

"Now that I am not," Jason replied. "Let's just stick with Jason for now."

"Okay, Jason," Ella replied.

Jason smiled and finished putting up his flyer. "See you Friday, Cindy-Ella."

As soon as he left, Kristen turned to Ella. "So? Is he your new muse?"

"What do you mean?" Ella asked.

"That was a lot of flirting," Kristen pointed out.

Ella smiled and shrugged. "I'm single now. I can flirt all I want."

"Damn right," Kirsten replied. "Good for you! Maybe you'll have to stick around after the show Friday."

"I work Saturday morning again," Ella replied.

"Switch with someone," Kirsten said.

"No," Ella told her, suddenly fearful. "No. I don't want to go out with him."

"Because Jack started out charming too?" Kristen asked.

"Why do you know me so well?" Ella asked.

"Because I've known you forever and I'm a genius," Kristen replied, sticking out her tongue. "But, to get back to Jason, don't worry about it. Just because you like to flirt with him doesn't mean it needs to go further if you don't want it to."

"I guess," Ella replied.

-

That Friday, the gallery wasn't as full as it had been. On his break, Jason came over to find Ella.

"Hey, Cindy-Ella," he greeted her. "How's the crowd for you tonight?"

"Not too bad," Ella replied with a smile, sliding her foot back into her shoe. She had been about to kick off her heels, but she wasn't going to do that now. "There's not as many as there were last week, though."

"I know. Last week's crowd was ready to party. This week, well, they need a bit more encouragement."

"Good thing we've got a great band," Ella replied.

"To go with the great art," Jason shot back.

Ella laughed and pulled her hair away from her face.

"Hey," Jason said, grabbing her hand. "You've been painting. Anything that made it here?"

"Oh no," Ella replied, taking her hand back a little reluctantly. "No, I can't make anything that quickly."

"That's fair," Jason replied. "I can't imagine how long this takes."

"Awhile," Ella replied, shrugging. "How long does it take to learn a new song?"

"You mean for me or for the guitarist?" Jason joked. "We're actually starting to expand a bit. We've written some songs and a few of them sound enough like Prince that we can sort of sneak them in and no one really notices."

"That's awesome," Ella said. "Are you playing any of them here?"

"Nah," Jason said. "We asked and the owner said no. We're working on getting more shows in bars, though. They're not so picky there."

"I could imagine that," Ella replied.

Jason looked over to his band. "Oh, I've got to go, but it was nice to talk to you again."

"You too," Ella said, smiling. She watched Jason walk away. Then someone grabbed her arm. Ella whipped around.

"Who was that?" Jack asked.

"What does it matter?" Ella asked, jerking her arm out of his grip.

"Of course it matters. I love you."

"You don't own me," Ella snapped. She took a breath. "Jack. Go home. Stop trying to talk to me. I'm done."

"What do you mean done?" Jack asked.

"Exactly that." Ella looked around. Too many people were looking at them. "Now go home."

Jack looked around and Ella followed his gaze to the band. Jason was staring at Ella and Jack.

"Fine," Jack snapped. He turned on his heel and walked out. After a flurry of conversation in the band, Charming started playing Purple Rain, but Ella wasn't sure if Jason meant it for Jack or her.

-

The days slid by sluggishly. Kristen was getting to the end of her master's program and Ella was already dreading the last day they'd work together. Ella let her emotions out in her art. She finally got Jack to leave her alone, but she hadn't heard from Jason since the night at the gallery.

Ella started painting shoes. Shoes jumbled together with reds and bright, passionate colors. Shoes walking away with sad blues. She painted the heels that she hated in disarray and the strappy sandals she loved walking or dancing. She painted Jack's shoes torn to shreds. She painted Jason's shoes, although she didn't fully remember them. She put them on a pedestal and that seemed about right. She sent her paintings to the gallery, but the shows weren't as great. They now hired a different band for their gallery openings. Still, the money was good.

Eventually, Ella let Kristen talk her into going out one night. Ella didn't have to work the next morning, for a change. Kirsten was very excited about a bar she'd discovered and the bands that played there. Ella got herself ready to go out, but her heart wasn't really in it. Kristen came and picked her up. "We've got to get you out more," she said.

"I guess," Ella replied.

"No, we do," Kristen replied. "Hank needs someone else to talk to when we go to bars anyway."

"Really," Ella stated, looking at Hank.

Hank shrugged and laughed.

The bar Kristen took them to was crowded and the band was loud, with lights from the stage moving all over the bar. "I'll go get us drinks," Kristen yelled, walking to the bar.

Ella looked at Hank. They both shrugged and headed toward one of the tall tables near the dance floor.

"What song is this?" Ella asked Hank.

Hank listened for a moment. "I don't know," he replied. "It sounds familiar."

"It sounds like Prince," Ella replied. Then she put it together. Her eyes shot to the stage and, sure enough, Jason was up there singing his heart out. Ella just stood there staring until the song ended. Then she snapped out of it and started clapping and cheering. The light panned over her and Ella swore her eyes met Jason's. He looked as shocked as she did. Then, he looked away and started talking to his band.

Ella tried to shake it off. Kirsten came over to their table with drinks. "How's the band?" she asked innocently.

"You brat," Ella replied.

"You're welcome." Kristen stuck her tongue out.

"We'd like to do another original song for you before our break," Jason said. The crowd cheered. "It's called Cindy-Ella."

Ella was floored. He wrote a song about her? It was hard to hear all of the lyrics, but it sounded like their story. A guy and a girl met and liked each other, but there was an old boyfriend so the guy backed off. It was better not to tempt them both, even if he didn't want to leave her to him. After that song, the band went for a break and Ella walked to the stage, absentmindedly pushing her way through the other fans.

"You couldn't just come ask me?" she asked Jason.

"I was a little worried about the other guy."

"Why? We broke up." Ella arched her eyebrow.

"Oh. It's just I saw something like this happen to my friend and I didn't want to get mixed up in anything if you were taken."

Ella shook her head. "If we're going to have anything, which I'm still not sure about, let's start by talking about these things."

Jason smiled. "Good call. Although, this does make a better song."

"And better art, I guess," Ella allowed. "Still. If you do that again, I might not kiss you again."

"Oh?" Jason asked. "We've never kissed."

"Not yet," Ella allowed. She smiled and leaned in. Jason leaned in to meet her and they kissed on the side of the stage while the fans cheered.

Cinderella Again

I may be dirty, but I'm still pretty!

Hello, dear reader. This week, we'll look at the story of Cinderella, which was the first fairy tale I analyzed on this blog. If you want a refresher on this story, or if you know there's more than one version and want to see which one I'm referencing, read Cinderella as told by Perrault.

Every time I read this story, I'm astounded by Cinderella. Usually in a bad way, but this version is worse than some others in that respect. Not only is Cinderella inexplicably nice to her stepsisters while they're all at the ball, but once Cinderella is revealed to be the beautiful princess, she immediately forgives her stepsisters for everything and gets them married to lords. What is wrong with this girl? There's a line between being nice and being a doormat and Cinderella took a running jump over that line. Maybe that's why the prince liked her so much, because she would go along with whatever he said. It would be mean to disagree with him. Or something.

I am also surprised at the stepsisters. They must have really never looked at Cinderella in all the years they lived together. It would definitely make a difference in Cinderella's appearance to have her washed and dressed up, but she didn't try to hide herself. She even talked with her stepsisters and gave them food. From the sounds of the story, this was a definite conversation. Even after they got home and Cinderella was all clean from her usual ashes, the stepsisters never put it together that they had seen her at the ball. If Cinderella goes too far with being accommodating, then they go too far with not recognizing people. It's actually kind of worrisome. The only explanation I can go for here is that they either willfully ignored that this was the same woman, or the godmother put a spell on Cinderella so her stepsisters wouldn't recognize her.

This fairy tale is yet another one in which it's mostly just women interacting with each other while the men are on the sidelines. That being said, I am surprised the stepmother plays almost no role in this story. In some of the other versions, she is the one leading the charge to put Cinderella down. In this story, she's there to put in a word of disapproval, and then she vanishes. It's really just Cinderella versus her terrible stepsisters. I have to wonder about how this strange household survived. This was in the days when three women living alone wouldn't have been possible unless they were under someone else's protection. I'm just going to assume that Cinderella's dad traveled all the time and that was good enough for everyone else.

The moral of this story is that even doormats can find true love. Alternatively, if you're set up to be the mean stepmother, do the minimum amount of work and then go find a fairy tale where you can be happy.

Have a different moral? A suggestion for a story you want to see here? Want to talk about your favorite Cinderella movie? Comment below!

Two-Faced

Salutations, dear reader. Last week, we took a deeper look at the story of Hansel and Gretel and some of the characters in it. This week, we have my modern version of this tale.

Totally not lost.

Every story has a beginning, but sometimes it's hard to say where it is. Was it when he met Emily, his first wife? When they had their son, Hank, or when they had their daughter Gretta? Did the story start when she died shortly after birthing Gretta? Maybe the story started when he, a lonely and depressed man, met Amy and married her not long after.

Whenever it started, Aaron now found himself flipping between his bills, his bank account, and his severance letter. The layoffs hadn't been kind to anyone, but Aaron found himself wishing, yet again, that he could confide in someone about how it impacted him. Amy wouldn't hear of it.

"Don't share our business with other people!" she would chide him. "An ideal husband doesn't gossip." As Aaron learned, anything could be an opportunity for gossip. Staying out too late with his friends could make other people gossip, especially if any of those friends were women. Calling his mother without Amy nearby could be gossip. She had worked her way into every aspect of his life, but he knew he was better off. Now he was above reproach, as long as he followed the rules.

Getting laid off had broken one of those rules, and Amy had barely spoken to him all week. He tried to put a brave face on for the children, but he was devastated. What kind of a man can't provide for his family? Aaron sighed and looked at his bank account one more time. They could pay the bills this month, but he would need to get another job before they were due again. Somehow.

It was about this time that Amy's hiking mania came back. That had been one of the first things Aaron loved about Amy. She loved to be outside and active. Now she led them on family hikes through the forest. It was always the same forest, but Amy took them to a different part each time. She hardly ever used the paths. She pulled them along through the trees and just as Aaron was worried that she was really lost, they would come upon a crystal clear stream, or the tallest tree Aaron had ever seen, perfectly centered in a clearing.

When they got to their destination, Aaron would sit with the kids and hand out the snacks. Amy, never one to sit still outside, would pace, staying just in sight, checking trees, or watching squirrels suspiciously. Several times, Aaron realized the only way they would get back out is if she led them. He was thoroughly lost every time.

One day, after they had walked farther than usual, the kids were dozing, tired of trying to get a signal on their phones when there was none, and Amy called Aaron over to look at a bird building its nest. It was moments like these, holding hands and quietly watching something magical, when Aaron felt hopeful. The bird flitted away and Amy started following it. Aaron followed her for awhile. Then he began to get worried. "What about the kids?" he asked.

"We'll get them," Amy replied. "Come on!"

So, Aaron followed her through the forest and, with a start, realized they were back in the parking lot. "We have to go back!" he said.

"It's dark," Amy replied, and it was. "We could walk right past them and never know."

"But they're our kids!" Aaron replied. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Hank! Gretta! Where are you?" Of course, there was no answer.

"Someone will find them tomorrow," Amy said, unlocking the car.

"Tomorrow?" Aaron asked. "We need to find them now."

"It will do them no harm to sleep outside for one night," Amy lectured. "My parents did the same for me and I survived." She opened the car door. "Now get inside."

"No. I need to find my kids." Aaron started to walk back into the forest the way they came.

"If you step back into that forest, I will leave you!" Amy yelled.

Aaron stopped. He didn't know if she meant that she would drive away, or that once he made it home, she would he gone. He couldn't stand that. She made him better. He needed her. She had to be right, like she'd been right so many times before. He didn't always know what was best.

"Now!" Amy yelled.

Regretfully, Aaron walked to the car and got in. "You make me so angry," Amy told him as she pulled out of the parking lot. Aaron didn't reply. He watched the forest as long as he could when they drove away, but he didn't see Hank or Gretta come out.

Aaron didn't sleep that night. Amy reminded him that she was going to her mother's house the next day on an early flight.

"Can't you cancel?" Aaron asked her.

Amy looked at him coolly. "The kids will be fine," she remarked. "I have to go see my mother. Why would you try to keep us apart?"

Aaron swallowed his response. He nodded once and left the room. He must have dozed off in front of the TV because he never heard Amy leave. Instead, he woke up to someone knocking on the door. Groggily, Aaron levered himself out of his chair and answered.

Hank and Gretta were standing on the step.

"Kids!" Aaron yelled. "Come inside!" He pulled them into a hug, telling them how much he loved them, how he would never leave them behind again. Eventually, he let them go a little and asked how they got home.

"We were following a trail of big rocks out to the tree," Hank replied. "We've followed it before. It was kind of hard to find them in the dark, but we followed them back."

"We've been walking forever," Gretta said, sniffling a little.

Aaron scooped her up. "Who wants to have breakfast in front of the TV?" he asked.

"Me! Me!" Gretta yelled.

"I do!" Hank said.

Aaron brought Gretta into the living room and set her on the couch. He brought the kids their cereal and they watched cartoons together. Maybe it had been okay to let them sleep outside for a night. They definitely needed a bath, but they didn't seem to be in bad shape.

The rest of the day, Aaron barely let the kids out of his sight while he applied for jobs. He knew some people around town. Maybe one of them could get him a job. He went to bed that night with a smile on his face.

The next day, Aaron dropped the kids off at school, and watched them walk away until he was sure they were safe. He went home to start making a few calls. He had gotten a few done, when Amy came back home.

"Hello!" Aaron greeted her with a kiss. "The kids came home yesterday! You were right."

"Of course I was right," Amy snapped back. He could tell she was angry about something, but it was never a good idea to ask what it was.

By the time he brought the kids home from school, Amy was back to her pleasant self and Aaron relaxed. The next weekend, Amy took them hiking again. "We can't leave the kids this time," Aaron whispered to Amy.

Amy shook him off and turned to the forest. "Let's find the waterfall today," she announced. It was rare for Amy to tell them where they were going and Aaron could tell the kids were excited to see a waterfall. Again, Amy took them on a long trip through the trees. They walked across the paths a few times, but never followed them. Eventually, the dull roaring they had been hearing got louder and they were right in front of the waterfall.

Aaron had been here before, but it always took his breath away. Hank had been carrying the backpack with their snacks, but he set it down. Then, the kids yelled and ran toward the waterfall. After awhile, Aaron pulled out their snacks and they all relaxed by the falls. They were short a bag of crackers, but Aaron made do without. He must have forgotten to pack enough. When they were done eating, Aaron made himself comfortable and closed his eyes to better hear the waterfall.

Aaron opened his eyes again to find it was close to sunset. "Where are the kids?" he asked Amy.

"They ran off," Amy replied. "We'd better go get them. It's getting late."

Aaron agreed, so they set off where Amy had seen the kids go. The farther they walked, the more Aaron wondered if they were going in the right direction. "Of course it's the right direction," he chided himself. "Amy knows what she's doing." Then, suddenly, they were back in the parking lot. "Where are our kids?" Aaron asked Amy.

Amy shrugged. "I swear they went that way, but they must have gotten lost."

"We have to go back for them," Aaron told her.

Amy looked at him and raised her eyebrow. "Why? They were perfectly fine last time. They'll be fine this time."

Aaron opened his mouth to argue.

"You did it before. Don't contradict yourself." This was another of Amy's rules that made him better.

Aaron swallowed and looked at her. "Yes, dear," he said at last. He got in the car.

"I'm going to visit my sister," Amy announced when they were almost home.

"You're leaving again?" Aaron asked.

Amy sniffed. "I've had this trip planned for months, but I have to leave right away."

"Oh," Aaron replied sadly.

They didn't talk the rest of the ride home.

Aaron fell asleep in front of the TV again that night. The next morning, he kept looking down the street, hoping to see the kids. He thought about going back out to the forest to find them, but what if they came home and he wasn't there? Aaron debated with himself about what he was supposed to do. He couldn't ask anyone else except Amy, and she wasn't responding to his texts. Eventually, Aaron realized it was night and he couldn't go look for them now anyway. He slept in the living room so he would hear it if they knocked on the door.

The next morning, Aaron woke up and the kids still weren't back. Aaron wasn't sure if calling the police was gossiping and Amy still hadn't replied to him. He tried calling her, but it went straight to her voicemail. Aaron paced the house, and finally got in the car to go back to the forest. He had to stick to the paths or he would never find his way out again, so he couldn't search as much as he would like. Still, Aaron walked up and down the paths, yelling for Hank and Gretta until it got too dark. He asked anyone he saw if they had seen his kids, but no one had. Finally, Aaron had to head home, only to be disappointed that they hadn't come back while he was gone. He didn't think he would sleep, but exhaustion kicked in and he passed out on the couch.

The next morning, Aaron decided that if he hadn't found them by lunch time, he was calling the police, no matter what Amy would say. She still was not responding to him and Aaron was beginning to get worried about her, too. He thought about calling Amy's sister to make sure Amy had gotten there all right, but Amy said things like that were manipulative. Maybe after he called the police about the kids, he would call Amy's sister. Aaron got back in his car and drove out to the forest again. He searched again, but he still did not find them. Around noon, Aaron found himself at a picnic site, so he sat down at one of the tables and brought out his lunch. He had brought three, just in case he found the kids.

As Aaron sat there eating, he remembered his promise to himself. Now that it was coming time, he didn't want to call the police. What if they thought he was a bad father? But he had to find his kids. Sighing, Aaron called the non-emergency number, glad he could get cell phone service. He explained that his kids were lost in the forest and he was looking for them. They promised to send some police out right away to help. He was to stay at the picnic site until they got to him. Aaron hung up the phone and stared at his lunch. He didn't want to eat, but he made himself. He had to keep up his strength for the search.

Aaron heard some kids yelling in the distance and thought that whoever was with them didn't realize how lucky they were. The kids kept yelling and Aaron looked up. They were Hank and Gretta! Aaron leapt up from the table and ran to them. When he got to them, he picked them both up and hugged them tight. "We are never going hiking again!" Aaron promised them, in between asking if they were okay and telling them that he loved them. Eventually, they went back to the table and Hank and Gretta devoured the lunch he gave them.

"What happened?" Aaron asked.

"We went to see a squirrel and when we came back, you and Mom were gone," Hank said, finishing the last of his meal.

"We went to find you," Aaron said.

Hank shook his head. "Mom knew where we went, and it wasn't far. I left a trail of crumbs from the crackers so we could get back, but the birds must have eaten it."

"But we found her that night!" Gretta replied happily.

"What?" Aaron asked.

"There was a house in the woods," Hank said. "It looked like gingerbread and there was a light on. We knocked on the door and there was Mom."

"She was in a house in the woods?" Aaron asked.

"She tried to eat us!" Gretta yelled.

"Eat you?!" Aaron asked.

Hank nodded. "First she made us dinner, all nice and everything, and then we got sleepy. When we woke up, I was locked in a cell and Mom told Gretta she had to clean up the house and start getting ready to cook me up!"

Gretta nodded solemnly. "Cook him up," she repeated.

"She tried to make me eat all day, but I wouldn't do it," Hank continued. "She kept saying she had to eat me soon." He shivered.

"I'm sure Mom wouldn't eat you," Aaron began.

"No," Hank disagreed. "She was going to eat me. I spent the night in that cell. There was a chain around my leg!" Hank lifted his leg and Aaron could see a sore spot on his ankle. Just like a chain might leave.

Aaron's face went white. "What happened next?" he asked.

"She wanted the oven to be nice and hot," Gretta said. "She said I had to check the thermometer in the back, but I couldn't see one. She climbed in to show me and I shut the door."

Aaron's stomach dropped. "Was the oven on?" he asked.

Gretta nodded and smiled. "Yup," she said. "She wanted to cook me up too, right Hank?"

"It wasn't a game," Hank reminded her. He turned to Aaron. "Gretta locked the oven shut and let me out. We stayed there until... Well, until it got quiet."

Aaron realized his kids were telling him they'd killed his wife. And that she had wanted to eat them. It was absurd. It couldn't be real. But what marked up Hank's leg? And where had they been for the past two days?

Just then, Aaron saw two police officers walking toward them.

"Aaron?" one of them asked.

"Here," Aaron said, shaking.

"Looks like you found your kids," one of the cops said, smiling.

"Mom tried to eat us!" Gretta told them happily.

"I'm sure she did," the cop replied with a smile.

"She's not joking," Aaron said weakly. Both cops' attention snapped to him. "Can you-" Aaron coughed to find his voice. "Can you find my wife's phone? The kids were telling me she has a house out here and she tried to.... She tried to..." Aaron couldn't finish talking. He started crying and pulling his kids to him. Then, Gretta started crying, and Hank did too. The cops brought the trio back to their car to look for Amy's phone. They got a hit, and it was in the middle of the forest.

One of the officers began calling for backup.

"You don't need to worry about it," Aaron told the other weakly. "She's dead."

"I think we'd better take you down to the station," the cop replied.

"That would be for the best," Aaron said, sighing.

It turned out that the police found everything as Hank and Gretta described it in the forest, including Amy's teeth in the oven among the ashes and bones. She had been burned. There were several cages with chains in them, but only one was standing open. In a way, it was almost a relief to Aaron that his kids hadn't made up something so horrible. But it was worse that it had happened. As the police talked to Aaron about counseling for all three of them, Aaron couldn't help but wonder how much he could tell a therapist. After all, he had to follow Amy's rules and he couldn't let anyone gossip about him.

-

If Amy's behavior seems familiar to you, or if you identify with Aaron, please check out this site.

Hansel and Gretel Again

Next time, I'm asking for directions, Hansel.

Hello, reader. This week, I wanted to talk about the story Hansel and Gretel again. I covered it once before on my blog, but I could stand to talk about it again. If you wanted a refresher, the story of Hansel and Gretel is at that link, then read on and analyze it with me here.

I can't get over the dynamic between the father and stepmother in this story. Typically, we think of women as the ones being abused in a relationship, but the father is clearly being abused by his wife. I wonder how long they courted before they got married, or if the father just needed someone to help raise his kids and his new wife needed to be married to survive. Clearly, it wasn't working out well for either of them, whatever the reason they got married. I feel bad for the father being bullied into leaving his children to die twice. I wish he had stood up to his wife, but I suppose if he had, the witch in the forest wouldn't have been killed, at least not by Gretel. The father also would not have ended up rich.

I also wanted to touch on something I mentioned briefly last time: the idea that the witch and the stepmother might be the same. As I read the story again, this seems less likely. The witch has terrible eyesight, but a keen nose. The stepmother has good eyesight (or else she wouldn't have seen Hansel looking back at the house when they went into the woods) and she didn't seem to notice when he went outside to get stones, so not such a keen nose. It is an interesting idea for her, though, to marry men she could bend to her will and convince them to abandon their children in the same forest she had set up a house made of food. As it is, the stepmother isn't given that much agency. She is just a desperate woman who chooses to try to live instead of feeding her stepchildren, herself, and her husband when they're in poverty. Obviously, she didn't make the right choice, but there is a twisted logic in why she acted the way she did. And she ended up mysteriously dying for it. When there were no witnesses. I'm not saying the father killed her, but I'm not disagreeing with the idea either.

The moral of this story is don't be a jerk. Alternatively, if you're taken captive by a witch who is going to try to eat you and your brother, pretend to be stupid because you're smart enough to kill her.

Have another moral of your own? Have a story you want me to talk about? Just feel like chatting? Comment below! If you like this blog, don't forget to subscribe so you get a lovely email about new posts.

The Little Mermaid Story

Salutations, reader. Last week, I analyzed The Little Mermaid...again. As usual, I found it interesting to look at some of the characters with less screen time and try to puzzle out their motives. This week, I'm writing a story to put The Little Mermaid in our modern era. Now, let's get on with it before this story grows legs and walks away.

Is a self-sculpture still considered a selfie?

Abalone cautiously floated to the surface. There was no one around. With a smile, she shot upright, almost to her scales. That was the "All clear" signal, so her sisters surfaced as well. Laughing in the sunlight, they slid up onto the rocks before launching themselves up and back into the ocean. These sunny days were getting few and far in between with the number of storms that had come up recently. Abalone had mixed feelings about the ship wrecks these storms sometimes caused. The downed ships gave her more to work with for her sculptures, but she did mourn the dead who were often dragged down with them. But for now, Abalone enjoyed the lovely day with her sisters.

They ducked in and out of the water all day until sun started to slip below the horizon. "Have you seen a more beautiful sunset?" Coral asked Abalone.

Abalone shook her head. "I wish I could paint," she said, not for the first time. "Then I could capture it." She had, briefly, tried to paint, but if she tried underwater, the paint just went everywhere, and if she tried above water, she inevitably got her canvas wet and smeared the paint.

"You could always take a picture," Pearl joked. They had found a waterproof camera once, but when they tried to take it home, the pressure popped it open at the seams and they'd had to bring it back up to leave on the beach.

Abalone splashed her sister and Pearl splashed back. Soon, they were all playing again and Abalone forgot her frustration for a time. They didn't notice how quickly it was getting dark until a fat raindrop splatted against Coral's head.

"Time to go," Coral said, looking up. "This one's going to be a doozy."

"More material for your art," Pearl joked with Abalone.

"I suppose," Abalone replied, frowning. She saw a small boat right before they dove underwater. "Did you see that?" she asked, pointing.

Coral and Pearl followed her finger. They all saw the bottom of a small boat, already rocking in the waves.

"We really shouldn't," Coral started.

"But you know she's going to anyway," Pearl replied. They both looked at Abalone.

"You don't have to help," Abalone replied, shrugging a little.

"Well, here we go," Coral said, swimming toward the boat. "Do you think we can just push it to shore?"

"Maybe. If we're fast," Abalone said. They got to the boat quickly enough and got it turned so it started heading to shore.

Suddenly, oars descended into the water around them. Pearl dodged out of the way. "If I get another bruise from helping you with this..." she began.

"It's a lot better than having another person dead," Abalone finished for her.

Coral sighed and continued pushing the boat, although from a different place so she didn't get hit.

With the three of them pushing and the person above them using the oars, it looked like they were going to make it to shore in time. Abalone could tell from the ripples around them that it was raining really hard now and she could only imagine what it was like up there. She was so intent on pushing the boat that Abalone didn't notice the huge wave rearing up behind them.

The boat went up the wave and crashed into the trough below it, losing an oar, but nothing else. They weren't so lucky with the second wave. The boat went up and landed sideways. A person hit the water hard.

"I'll get them. You right the boat!" Abalone yelled.

"Why?" Coral asked.

"There might be someone else in there," Abalone told her, swimming away.

The waves were black, lit up by the occasional lightning flash. In one of these flashes, Abalone saw the body she'd been looking for. She grabbed them and pushed her way to the surface. When they broke the surface, Abalone saw how intense the storm had become. The rain chilled her almost instantly and she couldn't imagine how cold the human with her felt. Still, she pulled the shore closer to her with each stroke of her arm.

Finally, she felt the sand under her tail and Abalone dragged the human up on the shore. She noticed the human was a man. And he wasn't breathing. Her mind racing, Abalone pressed down on his chest hard. She tilted his head back, pinched his nose, and breathed into his mouth. Abalone had wondered what it would be like to get up close and personal with a human, but this was not what she had in mind.

She kept pushing on his chest and breathing into his mouth until finally, water shot out of his mouth. He coughed and Abalone pushed him onto his side to help the water come out more easily. Now he was breathing, but he was shivering. The storm had died down to a mere drizzle, thankfully. Abalone realized she would have to warm him up. "Damn it," she muttered.

Abalone had to slip back into the ocean several times and back onto land again before he finally stopped shaking. Abalone relished her time in the water as she watched him. There was a town nearby. Someone would probably come out to check the beach and see what the storm had washed up and Abalone had no wish to be discovered. She had seen how cruel humans could be without realizing it. She waited in the water until she saw someone walking that way. Abalone splashed noisily back into the water and watched from below as the person approached the man on the beach. This was another man and he roused the man on the beach. The two of them walked away together, one man supporting the other. Abalone sighed. She could finally go home and get some sleep.

Hours later, after Abalone no longer felt so exhausted, she met up with Pearl and Coral again. "Did you get the boat to shore?" Abalone asked.

"Yes, but there was no one in it," Pearl replied.

"Did you save the human?" Coral asked.

"Yes," Abalone said. She briefly described what had happened.

"Goodness. Humans take so much care and looking after," Pearl said at the end.

"They really do," Abalone agreed. "I'm glad we're more sturdy than they are."

"You would have had similar problems if you'd been trapped on land," Coral pointed out.

"True," Abalone conceded. She shrugged. "Either way. We did our good deed."

"Yes we did," Peal replied. "So, we'd better goof off for several days to make up for it."

Abalone laughed and agreed.

A few weeks later, Abalone was floating in the ocean, watching a wedding that was taking place on a pier that jutted into the water. She had seen several weddings here and had learned how to avoid the photographer's lens. Even if they got her face, it would look like someone had gone swimming and spied on the wedding. Abalone loved the music and dancing that followed, often on the beach nearby, but there was something solemn yet joyful about most weddings that pulled her to them.

She was startled when she finally realized that the man whose life she'd saved was in the audience. He wasn't sitting in the first row, which probably meant he wasn't related to the bride or groom. Now that she had seen him twice, Abalone was curious about who he was. What was his name? Did he often go out in a rowboat in a storm? Fortunately for her, the reception was on the beach right next to the pier. Abalone was able to watch the reception, and dance in the water to some of her favorite songs. Eventually, she heard someone else call the man she'd saved and she learned his name was Daniel. Daniel was telling what his listeners thought was a tall tale about how his boat had brought him back to shore by itself and how he had miraculously washed up one the beach after being thrown out of it.

"I wonder if I should tell him that I saved him," Abalone thought with a smile. The few times she had saved humans from the ocean, she had never talked with them afterwards. This was the first time she had seen one of them later. It was strange. Abalone spent the rest of the reception enjoying the party while stealing glances at Daniel. What kind of man was he? It was hard to tell from here, but he bragged a little too much for Abalone's taste. Eventually, the party ended and Abalone swam away.

Now that Abalone, sort of, knew someone on land, she wanted to go up and visit. She was curious if it had been worth it to save Daniel's life, and she wanted to paint and get good at it. Abalone told Coral and Pearl all of this.

"But it's so dry up there," Pearl pointed out.

"Are you really thinking of doing this?" Coral asked.

Abalone tipped her head a little. "I'm not sure. I'd just want to try it out, you know."

Coral nodded. "But you know going up there even for a little bit will cost you."

Abalone thought about the sea witch. She had never met her, but she knew the sea witch could do anything with her magic. "All adventures have a cost," Abalone replied slowly.

Pearl shook her head. "Just let us know before you go up there so we don't go looking for you."

"Of course!" A few of Abalone's friends had gone onto dry land. Some of them stayed there, but most of them came back. A few days later, Abalone decided she had to try it as well. She told her sisters before she went to the sea hag.

Pearl's lips had thinned to a line, but she had nodded. "Be careful," Coral said, hugging her.

"Of course," Abalone replied. Then she set out. The sea witch's house was a long ways from everything. No one wanted to piss her off, so everyone gave her space. Unless they were asking her for something. Abalone swam until she saw the kelp garden, swaying in the tide. Taking a deep breath, she swam into it, heading straight forward until she reached the clearing in the middle.

The sea witch was beautiful and Abalone had not been expecting this.

"Hello, dear," the sea witch said.

"Hi," Abalone stuttered. "I'm Abalone, um."

"I'm Grace," the sea witch replied with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to go up on land," Abalone said, the enormity of her request now weighing her down.

"Very well. What will you give me in return?"

"Excuse me?" Abalone had thought the sea witch would simply name something outrageous and Abalone would be forced to comply.

"What would you like to give me in return?"

"I didn't bring anything."

"The best gifts come from you."

Abalone was quiet, thinking.

"Maybe you could tell me why you want to go on land," Grace said.

So, Abalone began with her desire to paint and ended with her curiosity about Daniel.

"Hm," Grace replied. "So you just want to go up there for, maybe three days to see what it's like?"

"Yes," Abalone said. That should be enough time to learn to paint, at least generally.

Grace nodded. "Very well then. Give me your voice."

"Excuse me?" Abalone had been lulled by Grace's calm demeanor, but now she was fully alert.

"It is the proper price. You have a lovely voice and I will trade you a human body for it."

Abalone considered. She knew sign language existed, although she did not know any. Still, it should be easy enough. There were always people painting the sunset. She could just find one of them, pick up a brush and look at them questioningly. Right?

"Do you keep my voice forever?"

Grace shrugged. "You can have it back once you give me back the human form. I'll come collect it from you at the end of the time, unless you decide you want to keep it. Then, I'll keep your voice."

Abalone thought for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. It's a deal."

Grace smiled. "Excellent. Hold still." She reached out and put her hand on Abalone's throat. Abalone felt something getting pulled out through her skin. Then, her gills began to seal up and her tail began to split in half. Grace pulled her up and up as more and more things changed in Abalone's body. Abalone twitched and tried not to gasp so she didn't choke.

When it was all done, she was on the beach with Grace in the water next to her. "I put some clothes next to you," Grace said, but it wasn't her voice. It sounded like Abalone.

"Thank you," Abalone tired to say, but nothing came out. She shook her head and settled on a deep nod instead. Breathing was weird, but manageable. After all, she breathed above water sometimes.

"I'll meet you back here in three days," Grace said in Abalone's voice. "Good luck."

Abalone grabbed the clothes next to her and saw it was a dress. That was a relief. She wasn't sure she wanted to handle wearing pants just yet. Abalone slid the dress over her head and slowly tried to stand up to drop it over her. The dress dropped over her and Abalone fell back into the sand. Legs were hard.

"You all right, girl?" a man called out.

"Of course it's Daniel," Abalone thought, mystified. She nodded and tried to get her legs under her.

"Hey, woah," Daniel said as Abalone tumbled down again. "How drunk are you?"

Abalone looked up at him and raised her eyebrows.

"I see," Daniel replied. He crouched down next to her. "Can I give you a hand?"

Abalone nodded. She grabbed his hand and let him pull her upright. He wrapped her around around his shoulders and put his arm around his waist.

"Do you need a doctor?" he asked.

Abalone shook her head. She was sure this body was human on the outside, but she wasn't sure how thorough Grace's transformation was.

"Let's get you something to eat, then," Daniel said, steering her toward a seaside cafe.

They got settled and, after a bit of haggling where Daniel discovered Abalone was a vegetarian, they ordered food.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel asked.

Abalone shrugged and gestured vaguely East.

"Mainland, huh? I'm born and raised on this island. I can show you around, if you want."

Abalone wondered how long it would take Daniel to notice that she hadn't said a word. As it turned out, it took a long time. They had gotten about halfway through the town before Daniel asked, "You don't say a lot, do you?"

Abalone shrugged and shook her head. She was just glad she had figured out how to walk by now.

"That's all right. I like quiet girls," Daniel said with a leer.

Abalone rolled her eyes. Well, she definitely had an opinion about Daniel, but she supposed it wasn't a waste to save his life. Besides, she wanted to see what it was like to be intimate with a human, and she was pretty sure Daniel would deliver that to her. Sooner or later.

First, though, they had to get dinner, which he paid for, and then go to a club and dance. Here, Abalone missed her tail. Dancing on legs was so different. She felt clumsy where dancing was usually so fluid for her. Fortunately for her, Daniel had quickly gotten drunk and seemed not to notice.

"Hey, baby," he slurred. "Better come back to my place."

Since she had been waiting for this, Abalone left the club with him. This time she was supporting him. He gave loud directions to his apartment and they finally got inside. He didn't waste much time before he mashed his mouth onto Abalone's. After that and some awkward pawing at her chest, Abalone decided she didn't care what the rest of this was like. She didn't want to do it with him. She pushed him away.

"Wassa matter?" Daniel asked. "I'm too good?"

Abalone shook her head and walked to the door.

"Don't walk away, baby," Daniel told her.

Abalone shut the door behind her and headed down the stairs. She would need to find somewhere to spend the night. She ended up on the beach which, coincidentally, was where a concerned woman woke her up the next morning.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked.

Abalone stretched and nodded. It had been a warm night, so she felt fine. Then she noticed the woman was holding a paint brush in her hand. Jumping up, Abalone, pointed at the woman's canvas and grinned. She was painting the sunrise.

"Thank you," the woman said. "Are you not able to talk?"

Abalone shook her head and shrugged.

"I guess you're used to it," the woman replied. "Well, my name is Rose. I suppose I can't ask you for yours?"

Abalone suddenly wished she had learned how to write like the humans did. She could have written her name in the sand. She shook her head.

"Well, I can't call you girl. How about Betty?"

Abalone had no particular objection to that. She shrugged and nodded.

Rose laughed. "You seem pretty easy going."

Abalone smiled. Then she pointed at the canvas again and mimed painting. Then she held out her hand to Rose and raised an eyebrow slightly.

Rose looked at the canvas and looked at Abalone.

Abalone pointed at the brush.

"Do you want me to paint?" Rose asked.

Abalone shook her head.

"Do you want to paint?"

Abalone nodded and grinned.

Rose smiled. "I think we can manage that. I've only got one easel, but I've got another canvas." She looked at the sunrise for a moment. "Can I paint for a bit while you watch? Then I can teach you."

Abalone nodded and smiled. She settled back down on the beach while Rose turned back to her canvas.

It was quite awhile before Rose was done, but Abalone loved watching the painting come alive under Rose's brush. Somehow, the woman knew just how much color to add and where to make the picture shine. By the time she was done, Abalone was on fire with impatience.

Rose handed her the brush, and Abalone tried to make a small bird in the corner. It was a mess. "This is going to be harder than I thought," Abalone thought, sighing in frustration.

Rose smiled. "It takes time," Rose said. Then she began teaching Abalone how to paint. By the end of it, Abalone was able to make basic shapes, but she felt like anyone who could write could do that.

"Do you have anywhere to eat?" Rose asked when they were done.

Abalone shook her head.

Rose bit her lip. "My sister always said I took in too many strays, but do you want to stay with me for awhile?"

Abalone only had one more day. It was disheartening to realize that. Three days was really not enough time to find out much of anything. Abalone nodded at Rose and smiled.

Rose smiled back. "Well, then let's get some lunch. My treat."

Unlike lunch with Daniel, Rose quickly figured out that Abalone was a vegetarian and they spent the meal communicating, however sloppily. Abalone really wished she could write, or that she had her voice back. It was the easiest way to get to know someone.

After lunch, they went shopping and Rose bought Abalone another dress. Abalone tried to stop her, but it was obvious how much Abalone liked the dress. It was purple and shiny and the fabric was unlike any Abalone had seen before. Abalone knew Rose was trying to make sure she had something else to wear, but Abalone was only going to be here one more day. After shopping, Rose brought Abalone home.

Her home was beautiful. There was art everywhere, and there were several places Rose had just painted on the walls. Abalone loved it and was mad that she couldn't do the same in her house.

"It's definitely an artist's home," Rose said with a touch of pride.

Abalone nodded and smiled. She gave Rose a thumbs up.

Rose laughed. "I'm glad you like it."

Abalone saw a painted guitar in the corner and walked over to examine it.

"Do you play?"

Abalone shook her head and shrugged. She put her hand out and delicately strummed the strings. It sounded horrible and Abalone flinched.

Rose laughed. "I haven't played in awhile so I loosened the strings. I play a little. Would you like to hear some?"

Abalone nodded with a grin.

Rose tuned the guitar and strummed a few chords. She began to hum along. It was a song Abalone had heard at a few weddings, but Rose didn't sing the words, she just hummed.

When she was done, Abalone clapped and smiled.

"Thank you," Rose said, turning a little red. "I haven't played for anyone else in a long time." They spent the rest of the night laughing and exploring Rose's house.

Rose had a spare bedroom, and she offered it to Abalone. "There's only one shower, but you can use it first."

Abalone smiled and nodded. She had never used a shower before. She had figured out toilets already, thank goodness. She stepped into the shower and turned the knob. She was immediately in love with the sensation of the water dropping onto her head. She used some of Rose's toiletries, reading the instructions on each one. Finally, she stepped out of the shower and found a towel. She had seen enough people using them to understand how that worked as well. She went to bed clean and dry and finally understood how appealing that was.

The next morning, she and Rose got up early and headed out to the beach to paint the sunrise. After the sunrise, Rose taught Abalone to paint some more. Now Abalone could begin to paint the sea. It would have to be good enough. Abalone looked at the sun and realized her time would be up soon. Making a snap decision, she took Rose's hand, and tugged it a little.

"What?" Rose asked.

Abalone pointed down the beach to where she had agreed to meet Grace.

"You want us to go over there?" Rose asked, confused.

Abalone nodded and tugged on Rose's hand a little more. Then she let go and set off. Grace was probably a busy woman and it wouldn't do to keep her waiting.

Abalone walked through the water to get to the beach she needed, glad the dress Rose had bought her was short enough that it wouldn't get wet. She got to the beach before Rose and Abalone waited while Rose caught up.

"Is this your favorite beach?" Rose asked.

Abalone smiled. She held her hand, palm out toward Rose, telling her to stay. Rose sat down on the ground. Abalone smiled and gave her a thumbs up. Then she turned around and walked into the ocean. She almost missed Grace below the water.

Grace surfaced cautiously in front of her. "You know it was a bad idea to bring her here, right?" Grace asked, still in Abalone's voice.

Abalone nodded, wishing she could convey more meaning in that gesture.

Grace laughed. "Are you ready to come back, then?"

Abalone nodded.

Grace reached out her hand and put it on Abalone's throat. It had felt strange to have her voice removed, but it almost felt more strange to have it put back. Abalone felt her body changing, and she dove beneath the waves to make it easier on herself. The process was easier this time.

"Good luck with her," Grace said, her voice still sounding slightly like Abalone's.

"Thank you," Abalone replied. "For all of this."

"Of course," Grace replied. Then she swam away.

Abalone came back above the water and was startled to find Rose wading out into the water.

"Oh thank God," Rose said. "I thought you had drowned!"

"I'm fine," Abalone said.

"Oh good," Rose said. She started and looked at Abalone again. "You can talk?"

"Now I can," Abalone said. "You trusted me yesterday, and now I'm trusting you." Twisting herself, Abalone brought the end of her tail up above the water.

"What?" Rose asked. "What is that?"

"It's my tail," Abalone told her calmly. "I traded my voice for legs and I've just traded back."

"Oh," Rose said, weakly.

"But we can still be friends," Abalone said. "I just have to stay in the water when we talk."

"Right," Rose said.

"Are you all right?" Abalone asked.

"Sure. I just need to sit down."

Abalone and Rose talked for awhile and agreed to meet again the next day. It took Rose some time, but eventually she got used to Abalone's differences and ended up using Abalone as a model for some of her paintings. Abalone was so happy she had met someone other than Daniel on land.

The Little Mermaid Again

Enjoying a rare moment of being pretty and not in pain.

Greetings, reader. I analyzed The Little Mermaid previously on my blog, but there is definitely more to get into in this story. If you want to read Hans Christian Anderson's original version, I've linked to that for you. If you remember it, go ahead and keep on reading to see my analysis.

The beauty of the little mermaid is mentioned often enough that I feel it's worth looking it. Both above and below the waves, beauty is painful for her. When the protagonist's grandmother puts oysters on her tail to make her beautiful, the little mermaid complains about how much it hurts, but her grandmother tells her to deal with it. Then, when she has legs, the little mermaid is the most beautiful girl around, but every step feels like her feet are being cut apart. I don't think I'd want to be beautiful in either of these worlds. It seems to me that Anderson was trying to tell us something about the cost of beauty by making it so painful. The little mermaid hopes to use her beauty and grace to get the prince to love her as she loves him, but it doesn't work. So, beauty is costly and, ultimately, useless.

I'm also interested in the sea witch in this story. I can't help but compare her to Ursula in the Disney movie and the difference between the two is startling. In this story, the sea witch tells the little mermaid going into land is a bad idea and that it will cost her dearly. She's almost trying to talk her out of it, but she won't stop her if the little mermaid agrees to the craziness. Later in the story, the sea witch even agrees to sell the other mermaid princesses a remedy to the little mermaid's predicament and she only asks for their hair, which will grow back. Granted, the "remedy" of murdering the prince is pretty brutal, but if he was dead then the little mermaid would have no reason to stay on land. Perhaps that was the point. It seems like the sea witch is trying to help the little mermaid not be quite so reckless, but she will enable the little mermaid if she accepts the terms.

The ending is also somewhat unexpected. After all the fuss they made earlier about mermaids not having a soul, you would think that committing suicide would seal the deal of no afterlife. That has generally been the stance of the church, more or less. However, this story takes her intentions into account and the little mermaid is granted the chance to earn a soul and go to heaven. Perhaps when she's there, she can meet the prince on an even playing field and see where it goes from there. That is, if he goes to heaven.

There are many possible morals for this story. I say the best is, "Don't give up everything for a guy who doesn't know who you are." Although, my runner up would be, "If you are going to do something crazy go so crazy with it that it becomes a good idea."

Like this story? Subscribe! Want me to talk about another fairy tale? Comment below! Be sure to come back next week when I put this story into today's context.