Cupid and Psyche

That's what she gets for trying to see what her husband looks like.

Greetings, reader! This week, we turn to Ancient Greece and Rome for the story of Cupid and Psyche. Unlike a lot of legends, the two of them actually fall in love before the end of the story!

One thing that always interests me about Ancient Greek and Roman myths is that the gods are just as vain and jealous as humans are. Instead of being happy this human girl has so many people excited about love, the goddess of love gets jealous and makes it so no one loves the girl. I understand that it's overstepping for people to stop worshipping Venus and worship Psyche instead, but it's not Psyche's fault. Even after Venus' son falls in love with Psyche, Venus still hates the mortal girl.

While we're talking about gods, how hot was that oil that Psyche dripped on Cupid's back? He was laid up with some kind of illness for days. Was it a broken heart? I would assume Cupid had never gotten his heart broken before, but that still seems odd. He did get others to help Psyche in the tasks that Venus gave her, but Cupid didn't ask Jupiter to stop Venus until after Psyche had done three tasks. Maybe Cupid wasn't sure she really loved him until then. I prefer to think of him as kind of an angsty teenager who takes awhile to figure out they could actually be happy instead of forever doomed in love.

I have to wonder what Psyche's life was like after this story. She becomes a goddess, so she lives forever with eternal youth, but she has to watch the rest of her family die and end up in Erebus. Hopefully in the happy part. I wonder if she ever regretted looking at Cupid and setting all of the other events in motion. She could have stayed in her mansion with him, being happy and in love, growing old when it was her time to. Eternal life could be a heavy burden.

Alternatively, maybe Psyche had no problem being a goddess. She would get to stay pretty forever, although she would never say she was as pretty as Venus. She would get to stay with Cupid forever and enjoy raising their child, Pleasure, without worrying about how Pleasure would take care of her when Psyche got old. I hope she wore her immortality well.

The moral of this story is that if you're going to listen to your jealous sisters, be prepared for a long quest. Alternatively, if you say you're in love with a woman, get to know her and how likely she is to give into curiosity.

Have a different moral? Annoyed I didn't talk about Psyche's sisters? Have a story you want me to analyze? Comment below!

The Cost of a Cure

Hello, reader! Last week, we looked at a fairy tale from Java called The Legend of Water Lily. This week, I'll be putting a modern spin on this tragedy.

Who knows what magic has happened here?

When I was much younger than I am now, I gained the power to peer into the aether and see useful things. What I soon learned was that I would not see the consequences of these visions until it was too late. I made a comfortable living and retired from my work and I did my best to retire from magic. But sometimes the need was too great and I would do what I could to soften the consequences of following my visions.

I settled in a medium sized town in a part of the country many disregarded. The town was big enough that not everyone knew their neighbors, but small enough not to attract outsiders' attention. I lived here for several years without having to do anything out of the ordinary. It was lovely. Then the sickness started.

It started out small, as these things do. It seemed to be a cold, or a very strong flu in the middle of the summer. Then it got worse. People started dying, horribly. Our hospital began filling up. Specialists came in to help, but they were just as baffled as our doctors. It seemed modern medicine had met its match. Finally, I gave in.

I settled on the floor, not an easy thing at my age, and cast my mind into the aether. The vision came to me quickly. I saw people taken by the illness, then the face of a young woman, then a flower, floating on a lake. With the certainty that came from these visions, I knew that was Clinton Lake and only this young woman could get the flower. I brought myself back into my body with a wrench. I sat for awhile before getting myself upright and into my computer chair. I opened my laptop and looked through my internet history. I'd seen that girl before.

After looking back a ways, I found her picture in an article talking about home town heroes. She was working on getting her PhD and her concentration was in using plants to treat human illnesses. This was too perfect. I closed my laptop with a sigh. There was something else going on here. Maybe a curse put on the family generations ago. I would learn nothing if I tried to ask the aether and I was still exhausted from my last vision. Maybe the doctors could solve this one after all. I found the young woman's address online and wrote it down. Then I put the paper in a drawer and tried to forget I had it.

I waited three days, but nothing new came up and I realized this illness might take the town if I didn't do something. Surely it couldn't be too bad for this young woman, Clarissa

I was out of options. I would have to go see her and try to find that flower. I would do my best to protect her. Not able to wait another minute, I grabbed Clarissa's address out of the drawer and walked to my car.

She was on the other side of town, which gave me plenty of time to debate about turning my GPS off and going home. But no one else could save those dying people. Finally, I made it to her house. I tried to walk confidentially up to the door and rang the doorbell.

She answered right away. "You're late," she told me. She smiled as she said it. She must have thought I was someone she knew well to tease me like that.

"Exucse me?" I asked.

"I was expecting you ten minutes ago. Did you bring your paperwork?"

"I'm not sure who you think I am," I replied, puzzled.

"Aren't you here to consult about potential plants to use to treat this illness?"

She must have been talking to a doctor. Someone who had earned a medical degree in this world of science. I suddenly felt very old, turning up to tell her about a magical flower. "I think I know of a flower that will cure it," I said. I wasn't going to lie to her, but if she thought I was someone else, well, it might not hurt.

"Perfect! Come inside and we'll talk about it."

"Actually, I was hoping we could go get it. It's supposed to be growing in Clinton Lake."

"Really?"

I could see why she was studying to get her PhD. She was so excited about this field. I resolved that I would do my best to bring her back unharmed. I nodded.

"Great! Let me grab my waders and we can head out!"

"Do you need to leave a note about where you're going?" I asked. We might need saving, after all.

A few expressions crossed Clarissa's face. "Probably," she replied. "Come inside. I'll be just a minute."

I stepped over the threshold and she closed the door behind me. It was a nice house. I noticed several coats on the hooks near the door. Some of the coats were men's coats. There were small touches of plant life, either in pictures or embellishments, around the foyer. I saw a plant sitting on the table in what I assumed as the dining room just to the right of the door. It was in excellent health. I started to wonder if Clarissa had a druid in her heritage somewhere.

Soon enough, she came back in clothes stained with mud, holding a pair of enormous boots, and grinning hugely. "Let's go!"

I nodded and we left the house. She locked the door behind us and headed to her car. "I'll meet you out there!" Clarissa said. "My car's a mess."

"See you there," I replied, getting in my car. I wondered if that was true, or if Clarissa just wasn't in the habit of riding in a car with a man she didn't know.

It was a decently long drive out to Clinton Lake, and by the time we got there, the sun was beginning to set. She was following my car, so I drove around until I found the spot from my vision. This was all coming together too well. I was waiting for the rug to get pulled out from under us.

Clarissa got out of her car and started pulling on her giant boots. "You said the flower was in the lake, right?" she asked

"Yes," I replied. "It's like a water lily."

Clarissa nodded. She gave me a once over. "I'll wade out in the lake and you can tell me what you see from shore. Sometimes it's hard to see with the glare on the water."

I wasn't sure if she was being considerate of my age or my clothing, but either way I was glad. I was not planning on wading in the lake.

Smiling, Clarissa headed out in the lake, asking me questions about this flower as she looked. I told her what I knew, which wasn't much, and she kept looking. It started to get dark and I began to worry we wouldn't find this flower. I wasn't sure if she would come out here again once she realized that I wasn't who she thought I was.

Then I saw another pair of headlights coming around the bend. I edged back toward my car. I had a cane in there. I only needed it sometimes, but it was solid and would make a good weapon if I needed one.

The car pulled into the parking lot and a man got out. "Clarissa!" he yelled.

"I'm here, Dad," she replied, testily. She began wading back to shore, but stopped still in the water.

"Thank God you're still in one piece! Why didn't you text me? It took me twenty minutes to find your note."

"I thought I might be back by the time you got back," Clarissa replied. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"You've got to stop running out of the house to look after plants like this," he continued. I had seen a father torn between exasperation and relief before. I began to relax. Maybe nothing bad was going to happen.

"But this will cure everyone!" Clarissa replied. "Don't you think that's a little important?"

"Of course it is, but you've got to-"

"Look, Dad. I'm fine and we're wasting daylight. I want to find this flower before it night time."

"Clarissa!" the dad snapped.

I could feel something building. Something bad. "Wait!" I yelled.

"You like plants so much, I wish you would turn into one!"

I was too late. There, floating on the water where Clarissa had been standing was the flower from my vision that would cure everyone. And Clarissa was gone.

The Legend of Water Lily

Beautiful princesses make the most beautiful flowers

Greetings, reader. This week's story comes to us from Central Java. The Legend of Water Lily is a story about a princess who is beautiful but also forgetful. The way this story ended caught me by surprise. It's not often I see a twist ending like this in a fairy tale. Click the link above to read the story and then continue with me below to analyze it.

Firstly, we need to talk about the ending. I was wondering why the most beautiful girl in the kingdom had to go to this pond to pick a flower. It seemed a little ridiculous. However, once Princess Dewi Arum gets turned into a flower, it made a little more sense to me, in the sideways way of fairy tale magic. It had to be a beautiful flower to cure everyone of this sickness, so it had to be a beautiful girl who turned into the flower. I wonder if a moderately pretty girl would have made a flower that was strong enough to take away the symptoms of this illness but not cure it. Either way, I also have to wonder about that old man. Did he know what would happen to the princess or was he surprised as well? After he finished curing everyone in the kingdom, did he have to leave because of what happened to the princess, or did they let him stay because he saved them?

We also need to talk about this king. He didn't want to ask his daughter to do something dangerous. It probably felt like sacrificing her. So he actually asked her opinion. We know the king loves his daughter and respects her enough to ask for her opinion in big matters like this and stand by her decision. I'm sure when he was yelling at her near the end of the story, he was partially relieved that she wasn't hurt or dead. After all, no one had seen her for days. However, after she turned into a flower, he was sad and then picked the flower. That puzzled me. If Princess Dewi Arum turned into the flower, didn't he just kill her? Maybe if he'd left her alone, they could have changed her back. Somehow. I'm going to assume that he didn't think of that because he doesn't seem like he would deliberately kill his daughter to save his kingdom. Or, at least, not without a lot of debate and thought.

Let's look at the old man for a moment. I know I already mentioned that I wonder about his motives, but really. Everyone started getting sick, the king offers a reward, several people fail, and once the king is truly desperate this old man shows up with his mysterious magic. Now, I'm not saying this old man caused the sickness to start in the first place, but I'm saying if he had any kind of grudge against the royal family, this would be a great way to harm them. The king doesn't completely trust this old man because when Princess Dewi Arum goes with him to this lake, so do several soldiers. However, if the old man either knew what would happen at the lake, or had set some spells to make it happen, it couldn't have worked out better. The king would never have agreed to sacrifice his daughter to cure the illness, but if she were changed into a flower first... Well, that illness may have been cured, but I think the kingdom fell into some dark times afterwards. Perfect for an angry, plotting spell caster.

The moral of the story is that if you're the most beautiful girl in the kingdom and a princess, you're going to have a difficult life. Alternatively, if you're going to yell at your child, don't do it near a magical lake.

Have an alternative moral? Think of something I missed? Wondering if the princess was actually the most beautiful girl in the kingdom? Comment below!

Water Music

Hello, reader. Last week, we learned about Sadko's awesome skills on the gusli. This week, I'll write a modern version of that story. I've realized that I've never written about or read about a viola being the star of a musical story. Well, reader, we're here to chew bubble gum and break stereotypes. And I'm all out of bubble gum.

There's more lurking under the water than we know.

Saul looked around his empty apartment. It was summer break, and his roommates had all managed to take the same long weekend away from campus. Beatrice had warned him that he might see ghosts while his roommates were gone. Saul had laughed good-naturedly and wondered, as he often did with these comments, if she was serious. Either way, it was a beautiful day outside and Saul didn't want to waste it. He had promised his mom that he'd play his viola over break, but he'd never said that he'd practice inside.

With a smile, Saul grabbed his viola case and headed outside. Not too far from his apartment was a little pond. It looked man-made and Saul assumed that there had once been a marsh there, but when the university had built dorms nearby, they put in the pond instead to hold any extra water. Whether that was the case or not, this pond was one of Saul's favorite places. Now that it was summer and there was no one staying in the dorms, no one would hear him playing and complain about it. Or try to correct him.

Saul set his case down at the top of the hill and got his viola out. He tuned quickly, getting it mostly right, and started playing one of his favorite solos. The violin got all of the best solos, but there were still some good ones for viola. Occasionally, Saul would transpose a violin solo to alto clef so he could play it too. This solo was a jig and Saul thought it was sprightly and perfect for this summer day. When that one was done, he moved into a slow Romantic piece. He wished he'd tuned better but he was able to compensate for that. Saul was debating about what to play next when the pond started bubbling.

It took Saul a moment to notice it. After all, there was a giant spray of water in the middle of the water to stop it from growing things. Still, the water was moving more than it should and not near the jet of water. Saul stopped playing and lowered his viola. It almost looked like someone was coming out of the water. He had never seen anyone swim in this pond, but he supposed some idiot had to try it at some point. Saul was getting ready to put everything down and try to help this girl when he saw her rise out of the water. She went straight up, like there was a lift under her. She also looked...unreal. She didn't look quite human. Saul didn't wait for anything else to happen, he grabbed his case and ran out of there.

Once he was out of sight of that pond, he set his case on the ground and carefully put his viola away. He kept looking behind him to see if she was following him, but the coast was clear. He picked up his case and jogged back to his apartment.

*

By the next day, Saul had convinced himself that he hadn't seen anything unusual. It was probably someone swimming in the pond who wanted to play a trick on him. She had just seemed unreal because he hadn't been expecting her. That was all. There was really nothing to it. And, once again, it was a beautiful day and that pond was still Saul's favorite place. Saul sighed and grabbed his viola case. He was going to prove that he had made it all up and that he wasn't afraid by going back. It was an open campus, after all, and he hadn't done anything wrong.

Saul set himself up in the same spot again and tuned his viola. Then he started playing the same Romantic piece from yesterday. There were a couple of spots he wanted to work on and the tune was so beautiful. Once he worked out the trouble spots, he played it from beginning to end with no real problems. Smiling, Saul changed styles completely to a modern piece. This one had a lot of weird harmonics, but Saul enjoyed how strange it sounded. It was more difficult, so he was paying more attention to his bow and his fingers on the strings. When he happened to glance at the pond, she was already standing on top of the water. Looking as unreal as he had told himself that she didn't.

"Please, keep going," she said.

Gulping, Saul finished out the piece, but his hands were shaking worse than an audition, so he didn't play it very well.

"You play beautifully," she said. "Well, when I'm not intimidating you."

"You're not intimidating," Saul lied. Was she a spirit or demon or something? Would she try to eat him?

She laughed at that. "My name is Yeva. What's yours?"

Saul wasn't sure he should tell this strange creature his name, but he found himself saying, "Saul."

"Now that we've been introduced, will you take requests?"

Maybe if he played for her, she wouldn't kill him. "Of course," he stuttered.

She laughed again. "Really, Saul, I'm not going to hurt you. I couldn't even if I wanted to. I'm trapped in this pond."

"Really?"

"Oh yes." She looked sad and a touch angry. "When they penned in my water, they penned me in too. Now even if I want to leave, I can't."

"I'm sorry," Saul replied automatically.

"You didn't do anything," Yeva assured him. "Besides, that happened so long ago, there's no one left to take vengeance on."

Saul didn't want to know how and why she knew this with such certainty.

"So, do you know any pieces by Mozart?"

"Mozart?"

"Yes. I do have some musical taste, and it's been so long since I've heard a live, classical performance."

"Oh. I do know one piece by Mozart, but I haven't played it in awhile."

"That's all right. I heard you practicing earlier. Just work it through and play it all the way through when you're done."

Saul smiled a little. "Okay," he said nervously. He tried to remember that he was in no danger here. That Yeva couldn't hurt him. He put his viola under his chin and tried to remember the piece he wanted. He had to run through several tricky spots, but Yeva didn't seem to get bored. Eventually, Saul felt like it wasn't going to get any better, so he played the whole piece through. He was concentrating on the music so much that he almost forgot that she was there.

Yeva clapped when he was done. "Oh, much better. You play with so much more heart when you aren't worried I'm going to rip it out."

Saul stepped back a pace.

Yeva laughed. "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist teasing you. I haven't spoken to a human in so long."

"Why not?" Saul asked, interested despite himself.

Yeva shrugged. "So few of them come and sit here like you do. And if they are out here, they're often not alone."

Saul made a mental note never to bring a date here. "So, ah, what do you do?" he asked.

Yeva shrugged. "I keep the pond clean. Their water jet helps and sometimes I ride it into the air. The farthest I can see from up there is the extent of my world these days."

"Can I help?" Saul asked impulsively. He'd always had a soft spot for people who liked his playing. As most musicians did.

Yeva smiled at him. It was somewhat unsettling. "My dear boy, no. That would take quite a bit of doing and come at some cost to me. Your music is plenty of help."

"Oh." Briefly, Saul wondered why he had wanted to free this...woman from this pond, but beneath her otherness, she seemed lonely. "Do you want to hear another piece?"

"Of course," she replied, perking up. "What's your favorite?"

"My favorite?" Saul thought for a moment. "Well, this one is always fun to play." He launched into a quick piece with lots of tricky fingering. He had just learned it that past school year in his private lessons. Despite how difficult it was, he loved playing it. Although he was tired when he was done playing it, it always made him smile.

"Bravo!" Yeva said, clapping. It was strange. When she clapped, it sounded like water smacking against water and droplets flew into the air.

Saul bowed. "That's probably all I can play for now, but do you mind if I stay and talk?" he asked.

"Of course not," Yeva replied. "That would be lovely."

Smiling, and somewhat wondering if he was crazy, Saul packed his viola away and ventured down the hill to sit a bit closer to Yeva. They talked about music. Yeva had heard all sorts of songs, living so close to the artsy dorm on campus. She was a singer, but she assured Saul that her songs sounded absolutely dreadful above the water.

"That's about how it sounds when I sing," Saul joked.

Yeva laughed. "Perhaps you should try singing underwater."

Saul laughed and they moved on to other topics. Eventually, Saul realized he needed to get back to his apartment to eat. "I need to go," he said to Yeva, checking his watch. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

"Of course," Yeva replied with a smile. "It's been nice having someone to talk to. The other water spirits can't carry on much of a conversation."

"Other water spirits?" Saul wondered how many creatures were living in this pond.

Yeva shrugged. "Just the usual sort of spirits you find in the water. Not terribly bright, but they can leave, so they tell me a bit about the outside world." She sighed.

"I see," Saul replied, although he didn't really understand what Yeva meant. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," Yeva replied.

Saul picked up his viola case and headed back to his apartment.

That night, he looked over some of his old solos so he would have new music to play for Yeva. He had been writing a piece that he debated about playing for her. It wasn't quite done yet, but he wanted to share something new with her. It had to be boring being stuck in the same place all the time.

*

The next day, Saul looked over his music one more time and tuned his viola before he headed back out to the pond. No sooner had he gotten his viola out than Yeva rose up from the pond, smiling.

"You came back."

"Of course," Saul replied, confused. "I said I would."

"I wasn't sure you would. I know I can be a bit...unsettling to mortals."

Saul laughed. "Only a little," he assured her.

"So, what are you starting with today?" Yeva asked.

For an answer, Saul lifted his bow and started playing. When he was done, Yeva clapped. She knew the title and composer of that piece. Saul played another and she knew the title and composer of that piece as well.

"How about this?" Saul asked, playing a few bars of one of his parts for orchestra.

Yeva's forehead creased in thought. "You're trying to make it tricky, not playing a solo," she accused him.

Saul laughed. "I'll play a little more for you."

However, after a few more bars, Yeva got that piece as well. Then it became a game in earnest, which Yeva was very good at.

"I have an affinity for music," she confessed to Saul when he was running out of pieces to play.

"Really? How about this one?" Saul began playing his piece. He started at the beginning and got all the way through without Yeva saying anything.

"I don't know if I know that one," Yeva said slowly.

"That's because I wrote it," Saul replied with a smile.

"Really?" Yeva asked. "It's lovely."

"Thank you." Saul hadn't realized how much he wanted to hear good feedback about his piece.

"You've given me something. Now I should give you something in return."

"Oh no. You don't have to do that."

"But I should. Now listen, I was thinking about this. Do you want a new viola?"

Saul was caught off guard. "I guess that would be nice. This one is fine, but there are definitely better ones out there."

"Well, you can sell that viola to someone for an outrageous price and then use the money to buy a new, better instrument. What do you think?"

"How am I going to do that?" Saul asked, putting his viola away. "It's not something anyone would pay an outrageous price for."

"Ah, not without me," Yeva countered with a smile. "You figure out who would buy it and bring them here. You tell them it can conjure spirits and when you start playing, I'll get some of the water spirits to appear. We'll do this three times and if they aren't begging you for the instrument by then, I'll appear myself and get them to buy it."

Saul's mind was working. "I know just the person," he said slowly. "Beatrice is always talking about ghost stories."

"Perfect. Tell her your viola is summoning ghosts and she'll definitely want to buy it."

"I think she does play viola," Saul mused. "Although mainly she plays flute. She's really good, too."

"Perfect," Yeva replied with one of her slightly-unsettling smiles. "Bring her here tomorrow and we'll get you that new viola."

Saul smiled. "That would be nice."

However, later that evening, he began to have doubts. Beatrice probably had the money for this scheme and technically he wasn't cheating her, but it felt like he was. Still, what he couldn't do with thousands of dollars...

*

The next day, Saul arranged to meet Beatrice by the pond. All he had told her was that he had something to show her.

"Well?" she asked. "What is it?"

Saul's mind made a snap decision. "When I sing, spirits come out of the pond."

"Really?" Beatrice asked. "If you're making fun of me for believing in ghosts..."

"Listen," Saul said and started to sing. He hadn't lied to Yeva, he really was bad. He wasn't surprised that no spirits appeared out of the pond. They were probably hiding. "It worked last night," Saul said, sounding confused.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow at him. "You've never believed my stories before now and you're trying to pull something like this on me? I don't have time for this. See you later, Saul."

"I'm sorry," Saul said as Beatrice left.

Beatrice nodded and kept walking away.

Almost as soon as Beatrice was out of sight, Yeva launched up from the pond. "What was that about?" she asked. "We can't sell your voice. Especially with how it sounds."

"I don't want to trick my friend," Saul replied, "and I don't really want to sell my viola. If we had showed that to Beatrice, she'd be down here all the time playing to get the spirits to come out so she could show people. She wouldn't leave you all alone."

"You think we couldn't have handled that?" Yeva asked.

"It would have been annoying and, well, you don't owe me anything. I'd feel bad tricking her and I'd feel bad inflicting her on your pond like that. Maybe some time I'll get her down here with her flute and we can play a duet for you. But you might not want to show yourself to her."

Yeva considered and her expression eased. "I have decided to forgive you. Your motives for not taking my gift were noble. And it would be nice to hear a duet."

"I can probably get a group together to play out here once school starts back up," Saul said, thinking about it. "I think I know enough people who would do it. We could call it a band and play covers of songs and classical stuff."

"Like Apocalyptica?" Yeva asked.

"You really do know a lot of music," Saul marveled.

Yeva shrugged. "It's one of my many talents. Now, until any of that materializes, do you have any other pieces you can play today?"

Saul smiled. "I think I have a few."

Sadko

Play one of these well for the King of the Blue Seas, and he'll give you fish!

Greetings, readers. This is my 100th blog post! Thank you for sticking with me. I've enjoyed learning new stories from around the world and growing my skills trying to write these tales of wonder and magic from long ago into today's world. I hope you've enjoyed them as well.

This week's fairy tale comes from Russia. Sadko is a fantastic musician and manages to make his fortune with a bit of trickery. Click the link to read the story and then read below with me to analyze it.

I'm impressed at Sadko's tenacity. I understand that if he doesn't have anything to do, he gets bored, but if I played at a lake all day and the lake scared me at dusk, I probably wouldn't go near it again. Sadko goes back to the lake two more days and plays all day. I'm just glad that the guy who came out of the lake was glad to see Sadko and had been enjoying his music. It would have been a completely different story if the King of the Blue Seas hadn't enjoyed the music, or if Sadko had somehow called a monster to him with his music. Although, being able to call a monster out of a lake could have its uses as well.

I have to wonder if the lake always had fish with gold fins in it, or if the King of the Blue Seas created them just for Sadko. If the lake had always had them, why hadn't anyone else caught one before? Maybe they're just better at avoiding being caught. Or the King of the Blue Seas likes those fish so usually he won't let them be taken away. That would mean he really enjoyed Sadko's music and felt very indebted to him. Then again, I suppose it's only three fish in exchange for the deepest wish of Sadko's heart. I wonder if Sadko went back out to the lake to play again occasionally after he was a successful merchant. It's a good thing Sadko knew how to run all of those markets well so he could keep making money. Although, I wonder how the town's economy handled that monopoly....

Lastly, I have to wonder about the party the King of the Blue Seas was throwing. Did he not plan for musicians? Or did Sadko's music just sound better than anything the King of the Blue Seas could find underwater? We're not going to worry about the difficulty of sound from the seashore traveling underwater. There's probably magic, or amazing hearing involved there. Or both, I suppose. I wonder if the musicians hired for that feast were mad at Sadko stealing their gig, or if they're planning on asking him to teach them to play better. Hopefully those musicians were still able to earn a living afterward either way.

The moral of this story is that even if you can't find a job, someone will appreciate your talents. Alternatively, if you're playing music and a lake starts to churn and get scary, keep playing. Something interesting is sure to happen.

Have a different moral? Wonder about the life below the waves in Lake Ilmen? Have a story you want me to talk about? Comment below!

The Seventh Gate is the Hardest

Hello, reader. Last week, we looked at Ishtar's Journey into the Underworld. This was a new one for me, although I've seen the idea of going into the underworld to get a loved one back before. It's odd that Ishtar totally forgot about her husband, but that made me think about how it might translate differently into a modern version than some other stories like this.

A quick programming note: there will be no blog update next week. For my American readers, enjoy Thanksgiving! For everyone else, enjoy your Thursday!

Passing through the first few gates is easy.

It was strange how grief hit you. It had been months since Izzy's husband had died and she had thought she'd gotten over the worst of it. Then, on her way home from work, she heard his favorite song on the radio. She remembered how they used to dance to it. Tim would pull it up on YouTube and swing her around the house. And she'd never have those moments again. Izzy pulled over and let herself focus on the song and on those memories while she cried. One more thing she'd had to say goodbye to.

Eventually, Izzy made it home, but she was too tired to eat. She dropped on the couch and stared into space as the room gradually got darker around her. It was so hard to handle these emotions all the time. She'd been having a pretty good day until then. But she couldn't hate the memories, and she no longer hated Tim for dying when they were both so young. She had been feeling so much lately. It seemed easier just to stop. Izzy contemplated this in the dark on her couch. She couldn't just turn her emotions on and off like a switch, but in that moment, she wished she could. It would be living like you were dead, but wouldn't that be better than crying all the time? Everyone was getting impatient with her grief, and Izzy was too. It was just so much work to feel things all the time.

Izzy must have dozed off because in the next moment, she was sure she was dreaming. There was a cave in front of her and she knew, in the way of dreams, that it lead to the underworld. "But I'm still alive," Izzy said out loud. No one answered her. She looked around and there was nothing else. Shrugging, Izzy walked into the cave. She was stopped almost immediately by a gate.

"No one alive can come into the underworld," the watchman said, looking down at her.

Izzy looked behind her. "But I've got nowhere else to go."

The watchman looked at her expectantly.

Izzy reached up and checked which earrings she was wearing. "If I give you my earrings, will you let me pass?"

"Done." The watchman said it so quickly, Izzy was sure he'd been waiting to be bribed. Izzy took off her earrings and the gate opened. She handed them to the watchman and walked through. She'd only gone a few dozen steps before there was another gate in front of her. Izzy looked behind her, but there wasn't anything back there anymore.

"No one alive can come into the underworld," the watchman said.

Izzy looked up at him. "If I give you my necklace, will you let me pass?"

"Done." Again, the watchmen seemed to have been waiting to be bribed.

Izzy went through another gate after she gave up her watch. At the next one, she gave up her jacket. After that, she gave up her clothes. The sixth gate was the hardest, but finally, she gave up her wedding ring. She stood before the seventh gate, naked and alone. "I have nothing left to give," she said.

The watchman looked down at her. "Give me your heart."

Izzy shied away from him and turned around. There was nothing behind her. The gate in front of her was all there was. There was no way around it. Izzy looked up at the watchman. He stared impassively down at her.

"Done," Izzy said.

The gate opened and the watchman took her heart. Izzy wandered forward, but there were no more gates. Her mind went blank and the dirt and dust surrounded her.

Izzy opened her eyes. She supposed that might have been a nightmare, but she wasn't afraid. She noticed that she was hungry, so she got off the couch and made food. When she was tired, she went to bed and then got up for work the next day.

Izzy could see that she was living like a robot, but she didn't care. She didn't feel anything about it, which, she supposed, was part of the point. It was much easier. She no longer cried, but she didn't smile much either. She just existed. It was a boring life, but it was painless and that was better than climbing a wall of grief when she walked past Tim's favorite dessert at the grocery store. Now, she didn't spare it a second glance. It was simply pecan pie.

This went on for some time and Izzy could see people worrying about her. She wasn't sure why. She had gotten over her grief completely and moved on. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do? Her family seemed to notice as well, and Izzy's brother Ivan told her he was coming to visit. Izzy liked Ivan so she told him he could. She wasn't sure how much fun she would be, though.

Ivan arrived on a Friday night and they talked about minor things until it was time to sleep. The next day, Izzy took them out for brunch and they went back home. They started looking at movie times.

"Izzy," Ivan said, setting his phone down. "How are you doing? I mean really?"

Izzy shrugged. "Fine, I guess. I don't cry any more."

"But do you laugh any more?"

Izzy shrugged. "When something is funny."

"What happened to you?"

Izzy remembered her dream, but it was just a dream. "It was hard to be so emotional. This way is easier."

"Making yourself numb isn't easier. That just means you'll have to deal with everything later. You're only putting it off."

Izzy shook her head. "No I'm not. Everyone said I would get over it. Well, I'm over it. You don't need to therapize me," she joked.

"I wish I could," Ivan replied, "but I can't be a therapist for my sister. Still, I can tell there's something wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," Izzy replied, "but you're starting to annoy me."

"Then tell me you're genuinely over Tim's death. That you feel the ache he left but you're able to handle it."

Izzy stared at Ivan. "I'm over it," she said, looking away.

"Izzy, this isn't healthy."

"Drop it," Izzy snapped.

"No. Go ahead and get angry at me. At least you're feeling something."

"What? You want me to feel things? Fine! I loved Tim with my whole heart. I thought he was going to be with me for the rest of my life, to take care of me and love me, and I would take care of him. I thought we'd have children and grow old together. I thought I'd get to tease him that he was becoming more like his dad and he'd tease me about becoming more like Mom. I thought he'd make me chicken soup while I was sick one more time. I thought-" Izzy stopped. She realized she was crying. "I thought he'd never leave me like that."

Now Izzy cried in earnest. She hadn't even noticed how heavy her heart had felt since her dream, but she felt a weight coming off. Like she was washing the mud off and brushing all the dust away. As Izzy cried, she closed her eyes and thought she saw the last watchman watching her steadily. Silently, he handed her back her heart and Izzy took it. She went back to the sixth gate and slid her wedding ring back on her finger. She ran through the rest of the gates, pulling her clothes back on, sliding her watch upside down over her hand, dropping her necklace over her head, and hurrying to put the earrings back in her ears. She ran out of the cave and saw the world all around her light up with the sunrise.

Izzy fell to her knees and cried, letting herself feel again, and coming back to who she really was. No more would she live like she was dead. Tim wouldn't want that. And neither did Izzy.

Ishtar's Journey into the Underworld

I have another announcement for you, dear reader. I'm full of those lately. I am officially a published author! A Tale of Two Tricksters is live on Amazon as both an ebook and a paperback. It's an Urban Fantasy novel that follows the exploits of a college student who doesn't remember that she's a djinn. There's plenty of mythological creatures from all of the world thrown in as well as the power of friendship and extreme dislike. A few of the stories on this blog tie into this novel, either directly or indirectly. Go check it out!

Ishtar in all of her finery...except her shoes.

Now that you've done that, let's get down to business. Today's tale comes to us from ancient Babylon. Ishtar's Journey into the Underworld kind of seems like a small part of a larger tale. Still, we'll take what we can get and just look at this piece of it. Go ahead and follow the link to read the story and then analyze it with me below.

It's interesting to me that a goddess knows so little about the underworld. Ishtar went there to be with her deceased husband, but she didn't seem to know that she would forget all about him when she died. Which means he had also forgotten about her. It seems like their underworld is terrible no matter what you were like in life. For the ancient Greeks, at least there were different parts of Hades depending on whether you did good things or bad things. In ancient Babylon, being dead is just terrible no matter what. And Ishtar seems to have no idea about any of this. I understand that as a goddess, she wouldn't have to worry about dying, but you'd think she would ask around a bit before she went into the underworld.

I'm also interested in Irkalla. Did she already dislike Ishtar before she demanded to be let into the underworld? The punishment Ishtar gets seems a little out of proportion for demanding to be let in somewhere. I could see why they might not get along, though. Ishtar is the goddess of love and Irkalla is the goddess of death. One causes new life to be created and the other is there when life ends. Still, it's a little much to make the girl you hate strip down naked before someone gives her the plague and kills her. Especially since she's a goddess and probably immortal. What kind of plague was that, anyway?

While we're wondering about people, let's wonder about the watchmen at the gates. I'm not sure how long Ishtar was dead, but I'm assuming it was for awhile. These watchmen took all of her awesome stuff on her way into the underworld, but they just kept it and gave it back to her on her way back out. I could understand if they might not have wanted to wear her dress, but it's weird that they didn't do anything with her finery. I would have thought Irkalla would take it, if nothing else, just to be mean. Although, I suppose once Ishtar was dead, she wouldn't have cared. Maybe Irkalla didn't care about it after the watchmen took it and she just left the watchmen to do with that what they would. Or maybe they assumed that since Ishtar was a goddess, she would be leaving the underworld at some point and she would want her clothes and jewelry back.

The moral of this story is that if you're going to go into the underworld after your dead husband, you'd better be sure someone more powerful will come get you if you don't come back. Alternatively, if seven is an important number in your culture, make sure you have seven things to give the watchmen. Otherwise you might get stuck in between gates.

Think of a different moral? Annoyed that after all of that Ishtar didn't get her husband back? Have a different fairy tale you want me to talk about? Comment below!