Greedy for a Dream

Hello, reader! Last week, we looked at The Beggar and the Five Muffins, a story from India about how greed can destroy your life. But, because I like to question my own conclusions from time to time, I wrote the modern version of that story this way.

Would you trade it all for a mouthwatering, marvelous muffin?

Katya had always been greedy. Her parents loved to tell stories of how, as a child, she had feasted on muffins and on whatever baked goods she could get her hands on. As Katya grew, she still loved to eat, but she became more concerned about what she was eating. Why eat a mediocre muffin when you could bake one yourself that was marvelous?

Katya found recipes and tweaked them to taste better. Then she began to create her own. Katya often sat at the table at bake sales because everyone knew her desserts were divine and they would buy everything. Katya joined the chemistry club in high school. When they needed money, Katya suggested a bake sale. They made it into the local newspaper, some online articles, and, of course, the yearbook.

"Once you get to college, you can be a chemical engineer," Katya's mom told her. "Then you won't have to raise money. You'll be getting grants."

"But I like bake sales," Katya argued.

Her mom laughed. "Always so greedy for your desserts, huh?"

Katya frowned.

After Katya had settled in a bit at college, she happened to overhear about a club that needed to get more members.

"I can bake some cookies and you can hand them out on the quad," Katya offered.

Her roommate was in the club, and she got the rest of them to agree. Not everyone who tried the cookies came to the club's next meeting, but they hit a new record for attendance.

Katya joined a baking club on campus. Between her club and her classes, Katya was busy, but she found some time to start a baking blog. She wasn't that great at writing, so she asked her roommate, an English major, to help her. With Anya's writing and Katya's recipes, the blog took off and they were able to start making money off of it.

Katya's mom made a point to ask about Katya's stellar grades when they talked. She never mentioned the blog.

Katya graduated and got a job at an R and D lab for a big company. Her mother was thrilled. But Katya kept baking. She would bring plates and plates of desserts to work so someone would eat them.

She kept in contact with her mother. On one of their calls, her mother said, "I guess you're not so greedy anymore. You've settled into a good life and I'm proud of what you've accomplished."

"Thanks, Mom," Katya replied, but she didn't agree. She felt like she could be doing much more. She started blogging again, and she got Anya to agree to write for her. Again, it took off. Almost every comment asked when Katya would open a bakery.

"You want to quit a good job for some muffins?" Katya's mother demanded. "Don't be greedy."

Katya thought long and hard about it. She did have a good job, and she was comfortable. And yet...

Katya hired Anya part time as a publicist and began work to open her bakery, Marvelous Muffins.

"You're giving up everything for those muffins?!" her mother yelled on the phone.

"None of it means anything," Katya told her, unruffled. "I'd much rather have the muffins." And so, that is what she did.

The Beggar and the Five Muffins

If muffins made from this rice wouldn't make you play dead, you're not committed enough.

Salutations, reader! This week's story comes to us from India. The Beggar and the Five Muffins is a story of a super intense competition between a husband and wife. Over muffins. Hey, we've all been there. Click the link above to read the story, and continue below to analyze it with me.

There's actually a lot to this story. First, we have the food infatuation. When they were first able to taste these muffins, they were in love. It's clear they've never had this food before. Then, the wife is able to save enough rice to make them some more of those delicious muffins. By this point, I know that what I call muffins and what the characters call muffins are two entirely different foods, but I'm still on board. I even understand that they don't want to tear their beloved fifth muffin into pieces. What I don't understand is their contest.

If they didn't move for three days, they would have a whole host of problems. Let's just say, I would have lost this contest as soon as I needed to use the bathroom. This story is already unreal, but then the police start breaking into their house and still they don't move. It gets downright absurd when the townspeople delcare the beggar and his wife dead and neither of them correct the mob. It's into dangerous mental territory when the beggar only speaks because he is literally about to be burned alive. Over muffins.

Either this is a humorous story that isn't meant to be thought about for too long, or it's a philosophical tale to tell us something about life. Since overanalyzing is what we do here, let's go with the second option.

I see this not as a story about tasty food, but one about greed. The beggar and his wife didn't taste muffins until they went to a fancy party and feast. Since they have nothing, I suppose it's not too hard to give them food they've never had before.

Even when the wife saved food to make the muffins, there is no problem. It seems like they still had enough to eat, more or less, and she was able to ask for what she needed to make the muffins. The only problem comes when they're trying to split the muffins between the two of them.

Neither of them wanted to miss out on the third muffin. They don't even debate about giving the third muffin to someone else, like the neighbor who gave them the black pulse. Instead, they create an extreme contest and go to extreme lengths to try to get that extra muffin for themselves.

In the end, the wife wins the contest, but they both lose. After they are realized to not be dead, they are cast out from the village. They lose everything they had, however little it is, except for their daily supply of muffins. I know the old ladies and young children were trying to be nice by bringing them muffins after that, but I see it as cruel. It's because of those muffins that they lost everything else. They didn't value what they had, so now they have a house in the middle of a meadow and those dang muffins.

I bet the really mean kids brought them five muffins.

The moral of this story is not to let your greed get the better of you. Alternatively, if you made an odd number of baked goods for an even number of people, just cut the last one in half.

Have a different moral? Think the beggar and his wife were absolutely justified? Have another story you want me to talk about? Comment below! And come back next week to see me turn this into a modern story. Because no one has ever written a story about greed in our modern society.

Psych Out

Hello, readers. Last week, we looked at the story of Cupid and Psyche, a romance that was totally fine until Psyche tried to make sure Cupid wasn't a beast of some sort and he booked it out of there. I know Cupid was the god of desire, but it seems like he was also the god of drama. I mean, he was related to Zeus. Anyway, here's my modern take on this classic tale.

A pretty unlikely spot to find a girlfriend, most of the time.

Psyche worked lights for shows at one of the big, local theaters. It wasn't Broadway by any means, but she got to do what she loved and make enough money to get by without having to move every time a show closed. She'd worked hard to get this far and she was happy with her accomplishments, but recently, she'd been looking for something new. Of course, seeing as many shows as she did, Psyche figured it was about time she had a love story.

"Yeah right," she taunted herself. Her last girlfriend hadn't lasted very long. It was hard to date someone who was in the theater, Psyche's weekends were often filled and she kept late hours, but it was even harder when you dated someone else who was also in theater. Not everyone was incredibly dramatic, but Psyche seemed to gravitate towards those girls. "Maybe I'll just get a dog," Psyche thought to herself, cuing up the last set of lights for Act I. Finally, they were taking an intermission on the show. Since it was rehearsal and not a performance, it would be a short intermission. Still, Psyche took the chance to get up and go outside.

She almost regretted it as soon as she left the theater. It was winter and the snow on the ground was pretty, but it was also cold. Still, it was better to get at least a few minutes out here at the alley entrance to the theater than to stay inside for several more hours. Sometimes, Psyche saw people who worked at the nearby bars standing in the alley taking their smoke breaks and tonight was no exception. There was a blonde girl leaning against the wall. She turned to look at Psyche when Psyche came outside and gave a small smile. Psyche's heart jumped up her throat. This girl was gorgeous.

"Well that was fast," Psyche thought snidely to herself. Still, even though this looked like one of the shows Psyche worked, she would kick herself forever if she didn't at least get this girl's name. So, Psyche wandered over. "Hey. Getting some fresh air?" she asked. "Smooth, Psyche."

The girl smiled. It lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle. Of course. "Yeah. It gets pretty loud in there. I like to come out here where it's quiet when I can."

"I hear ya. I work the lights for this theater, and even when the actors are off stage, they can't stop talking or singing."

"You work the lights?" the girl looked impressed.

"Yeah. You can have the best pit and actors, but there's no show without a spotlight at the right time. You know?" In her mind, Psyche sighed. "Sure, make yourself look like a big shot. Everyone loves that."

"That's true," the girl replied, nodding. "I'm Desiree."

"I'm Psyche," Psyche replied. "Nice to meet you."

"Same." Desiree looked at her watch. "I've got to get back. Are you rehearsing tomorrow night too? Do you think you might take your break outside again?"

"Yeah." Psyche tried not to smile too big. "Even if I have to stand out here with the chain smokers."

"Great. I'll see you tomorrow, Psyche." Desiree smiled again and slipped back into the bar.

"I guess my life really is a play," Psyche thought, heading back inside. Never mind that she had been thinking about how she wanted a girlfriend off and on for weeks. She had thought about it tonight and managed to meet a cute, sweet girl. That's the stuff plays were made of.

Over the next few nights, Psyche and Desiree got to know each other better. Desiree had a younger brother and sister, twins, who seemed to be the more successful ones. "They've got their office jobs and Gayle is going to have a baby soon," Desiree told Psyche. "I don't know. It just seems kind of boring. Not that I love being a bartender, but at least every night is different."

Psyche nodded. She was an only child, but she knew the expectations Desiree was talking about. "Everyone expects you to 'settle down' and find a 'real job', even if you like what you do. I can't imagine sitting behind a desk all day."

Desiree nodded. "I've had a job like that and it was more soulless than this. Plus, I get to meet the most interesting people. Even behind the bar."

Psyche smiled. "Sometimes, I'd rather hang out with the people I meet back here than the ones I meet in there." She pointed to the theater.

"Same," Desiree replied.

This went on for a few more nights. Psyche was trying to figure out if she should ask Desiree out or not. It was obvious that Desiree liked talking to her, even outside in the winter, but Psyche wasn't sure if Desiree would want to date her. That was something she'd always had trouble figuring out.

Then, after their second night of performance, someone suggested they take the cast party to the bar next door. Psyche was torn between wanting Desiree to work that night and not wanting her to. If nothing else, Psyche could get an opinion on Desiree from her friend, Daniel. He didn't see the same since of irony about someone involved in the theater pursuing a romance, but he liked to be helpful and he was a pretty good judge of character, if a little too blunt sometimes.

As everyone pulled on their coats, the stage manager, Daniel, found Psyche. "Isn't this the bar where your...friend works?"

"Yes," Psyche replied. "I'm not sure if she's working tonight."

"Well, if she is, I can see if she's good enough for you."

Psyche laughed. "Right because you can tell that in five minutes."

"Sometimes less," Daniel replied.

Psyche shook her head and they followed the crowd.

It was a Saturday night, so the bar was already busy, but that didn't seem to bother anyone in the cast. Psyche looked through the mass of people to try to find Desiree. She couldn't see her through all of the people, and then Daniel started pulling Psyche over to a table with some of their friends.

"Did you see her?" Daniel asked as they all struggled out of their coats.

"No," Psyche replied, sliding into the edge of the circular booth, "but she might be here."

"Here's your pitcher and glasses. Do you need anything else?"

Psyche looked up at the familiar voice. It was Desiree all right, but Psyche almost didn't recognize her. Desiree had always been wearing a long coat in the alley, so it was a shock to see her in a tight miniskirt and a low cut top. At first Psyche stared at her in shock, and then because she couldn't take her eyes away. She had always wondered what Desiree wore under that coat. Psyche felt decidedly unsexy in her jeans and nice shirt. She took all of this in while Desiree bent over low and set everything on the table, winking at one of the guys. Desiree took a quick look around the table at everyone there and froze when she made eye contact with Psyche. For a moment, they were both speechless. It was like Psyche had shone a light on Desiree when Desiree hadn't expected anyone to see her.

"I think that'll be it," Robert, one of the guys in the cast, replied. "Thanks."

"Sure thing, sugar," Desiree replied, seemingly on autopilot. She snapped her gaze away from Psyche and scooted away.

Daniel looked at Psyche. "So, was that her?"

Psyche nodded, still a little in shock.

"Damn, girl. You've got her number, right?"

Psyche looked at Daniel, trying to focus. "Um, yeah."

"Good." Daniel looked at Psyche a bit more closely. "What's wrong?"

"She always wears a coat outside," Psyche replied, searching for the right words.

"Ah. You didn't know she dressed for good tips," Daniel replied sagely.

"What?" Psyche asked, her full attention on Daniel.

"She's a bartender. If she shows a bit more skin, she'll get more tips. Name of the game." Daniel poured himself a beer and took a drink.

"Oh." Psyche tried not to be disappointed. She'd had such great discussions with Desiree and to see her like this was...odd.

"Don't judge her for what she's wearing," Daniel advised. "If you're lucky, she won't judge you for what you're wearing."

Psyche shook her head. "I know it's just... She didn't seem like the type-"

"Will you stop typecasting and go flirt with the girl?" Daniel asked. "I mean, I'm sure she gets flirted with a lot at this job, but you mean something to her so your flirting would actually matter."

"What makes you think you know so much about how someone else's romance should go?"

Daniel shrugged. "Because it's not mine. That's how these things work."

"I'd better not bother her," Psyche said. "She's working."

"All right, coward. It's only going to be harder to talk to her again later."

Psyche stuck out her tongue, but didn't deny the truth of what Daniel was saying. She did her best to enjoy the cast party, but it was the next week before Psyche spent intermission outside in the alley again. She was out there alone, calling herself a fool for thinking Desiree would come out there, or that Desiree would want her the way Psyche wanted Desiree, when the back door to the bar opened.

"Hey," Desiree said, letting the door close behind her. "Guess that kind of startled you the other night, huh?"

"I just wasn't expecting..."

"Me to dress for tips?"

Psyche blushed, annoyed that she used the same phrase Daniel had. "Usually the girls I see dressed like that are... Well, they're not interested in the things I am, I guess."

"And you feel like you saw the true me and I wasn't like you expected," Desiree replied. She shook her head. "That's my outfit for work. That's not how I dress on my time off. And we've already talked a lot about things we're both interested in."

Psyche remembered they both liked some similar music. Desiree had been in a few musicals in school, although she didn't pursue it now, and they both liked some of the same movies for similar reasons. "I know," Psyche replied. "I guess I've gotten used to seeing only part of you and being a little afraid when I saw a different side of you." She looked at the ground. "Well, lack of honesty always hurts relationships in shows. Maybe honesty will help me in real life. Maybe."

"So, I was different than you expected and that scared you?"

Slowly, Psyche nodded.

"You know, there might be some other things about me you don't expect," Desiree said slowly.

Psyche nodded. "I shouldn't have expected you to fit in a stereotype or something."

"I mean, other things that might be...different than what you consider normal," Desiree tried again.

"Oh." "Like what?"

"Well. Haven't you wondered why I'm always out here to meet you?"

Psyche's heart hammered in her chest. "Because you like talking to me?"

"Well, yes, but I was wondering if..." Desiree laughed and shook her head. "I get asked out so many times every night. You'd think I'd have an easier time asking you on a date."

It took a moment for Psyche's brain to process what she'd heard. "What? You want to go on a date with me?"

"Well, yeah," Desiree replied. "I know you might not have thought of me as bi, but-"

"Yes, I'd love to!" Psyche replied. "Sorry. I didn't mean to cut you off."

Desiree laughed. "We're both a little nervous." She stepped a little closer. "So, you really want to go on a date?"

"Yes. I've been trying to figure out how to ask you for a long time."

Desiree smiled self-consciously. "Oh. And I thought I might be rushing you."

Psyche slipped her hand into Desiree's. "Not at all."

Desiree gave her hand a squeeze. "Great. Then you can see me when I'm just being me."

"And you can see me when...well, when I'm putting some more effort into my appearance."

Desiree laughed. "You can come in yoga pants and a t-shirt, as long as you show up."

"I'll try to be a little more dressed up than that," Psyche promised. Next time she shone a light on Desiree, Psyche told herself not to be scared if she learned something new because it would only make this better. The only bad thing was that Daniel was going to say he'd told her so when Psyche told him she had a date with Desiree. He could be kind of a jerk when he was right.

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."