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Does anyone write these lost forms of "Fiction"?

Myths (Story made up to explain real events) 1 vote(s) 20.0%
Fairy Tale (Villians, witches, sorcerers, evil, witches) 0 vote(s) 0.0%
Fable (Short Allegory with simple moral) 0 vote(s) 0.0%
Tall Tale (Funny & exaggerated story) 0 vote(s) 0.0%
Fantasy (Animals talk, fairies roam, imagery, etc.) 4 vote(s) 80.0%
  1. Artistic

    PaintedDiary JPiC Mentor

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    You know, I still love to read "Allegories", "Fairy Tales", "Tall Tales", Myths, and especially "Fables". With all our amazing talent, I was curious if anyone in our JPiC Community writes these types of "Fictional Forms". If you do, please share what kind you write, and post a good Fable or Fairy Tale please!!!!!!!

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    PaintedDiary JPiC Mentor

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    Anyone write Fables anymore?:blank: :huh: :shout: lol
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    MsJacquiiC Poetica Magnifique

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    haha - I love to read all sorts of stuff - but fables about fairies? hmmm :nono: :joke: It's been quite some time since I've actually read anything like that - Aesop's fables being the last I suppose...

    I know who this poll could be for: MS VODKASLAYER - I tend to wonder how her writing is coming along - may send her a message later!

    At anyrate - I don't think I can vote in this poll lol - but thanx for posting it! It'll be interesting to see others' response.

    Jacquii.


    Posted By MsJacquiiC | Oct 2, 2006
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    PaintedDiary JPiC Mentor

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    Thanks Ms Jacquii for taking to read and comment. YES!!-----LOL!!!! This is a poll for Ms VS!! LOL!!!!
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    MsJacquiiC Poetica Magnifique

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    Well SEBBY's nowhere to be seen LOL - So I'll put in a vote for sake of posterity. I collect unicorns and fairies (well I used to, until I became so embittered by family hate) -----> I haven't written about fairies in a long time - but I still have some pieces I'm sure I could dig out and make brand new again :)

    Jacquii.


    Posted By MsJacquiiC | Oct 23, 2006
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    PaintedDiary JPiC Mentor

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    Awwww, thanks Ms Jacquii! :blush:

    Sally Roberts Forestdawn

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    "Silver Sands"

    Greetings everyone! I've written a few childhood pleasures.How's this one.



    "Silver Sands"

    Far away beyond
    our visions of sight,
    Alive with the secrets
    of grand delight.
    Beneath the green gold
    and mossy ground,
    Is where a magickal
    kingdom is found.

    Each creature is said
    to have beautiful wings,
    They can really create
    the most wonderful things.
    Floating and flying
    like in faerie tale lore,
    But truthfully speaking
    there is so very much more.

    They all have two pouches
    one on each side,
    That is where some of those
    secrets abide.
    they fill up their pouches
    from faraway lands,
    Known only to them
    as the "Silver Sands"

    Into every window
    the faeries will creep,
    To find every child
    all sound asleep,
    They'll kiss all the children
    with a sprinkle of sand,
    And that's how the story
    of the Sandman began.


    Sally aka Forestdawn

    HeddgieBedgie New Member

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    I write Fairy Tales, Myths, Fables and Fantasies.

    I am writing two fantasy children's books - The Mystery at Gardan Hall, which is about a group of hedgehogs living in an English Garden, and The Dragon Yen Hue, that tells about the life of a dragon from the perspective of the dragon.

    I especially love writing Fairy Tales. One, The Fairy Maiden Princess and the Hedgehog features the Slavonic witch, Baba Yaga, Another is based upon the Russian folktale of Prince Ivan and the Firebird. Both are in rhyme.

    These "lost forms" of literature allow more license to use imagery and imagination than most others.

    Cheers

    Al

    HeddgieBedgie New Member

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    This is a Fairy Tale I recently completed. If anyone has children ages four to six and feel it appropriate for them, I would like to know how kids relate to it. It exceeds the 10,000 character limit by about 1,000 characters, so I have split it into two halves:


    FIRST HALF

    The Fairy Maiden Princess
    and The Hedgehog

    © A. Minter, 2006



    Part One

    In the Twice-Enchanted Forest where the Tiggleberry grows,
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows
    Lived a Fairy Maiden Princess, oh, so lovely to behold,
    In a castle made of crystal, within a wall of purest gold.

    Her hair was like the sunset that kisses summer days.
    Her eyes were blue as morning skies in which the sunlight plays.
    Her skin glowed like an angel’s, and her face was soft and fair.
    Her voice, an angel’s whisper that floats on summer air.

    Her wings were pale as snowflakes and clear as morning’s dew,
    They sparkled bright with fairy dust of every rainbow hue.
    Her fairy wand was silver with a tip of glimmering light,
    That twinkled like the evening star or fireflies in the night.

    But in all her wondrous forest, filled with creatures great and small,
    The Fairy Maid felt all alone, within her castle’s golden wall.
    When the morning lit her garden, she would sing her Fairy song
    That beckoned to her handsome Prince to one day come along.

    In the twilight of the evening, when the night birds start to sing,
    And fireflies start to flicker and church bells start to ring
    The Fairy Maiden Princess longed to find her Prince so dear
    And from her tower watched the sea to see his ship appear.


    Part Two

    Near the Twice Enchanted Forest where the Tiggleberry grows,
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows
    Lived the witch named Baba Yaga, she was such a wicked crone,
    In a cottage made of wormwood, with a roof of polished bone.

    Her hair was white as ashes; her eyes were black as sin,
    Her face was pale as death itself and wore an evil grin.
    Her voice so thin it crackled like the lightning through the air,
    Her claws were sharp as daggers, her victims to ensnare.
    As evil plans she plotted within her secret lair.

    For her hut was hidden deep within a forest dark and cold,
    And walked about on chicken’s feet and did as it was told.
    The fence around her garden was made of wooden poles.
    On each one hung a human skull, with eyes that burned like coals.

    She hated all things beautiful; they filled her heart with pain;
    Her heart’s desire was that she see no person smile again.
    Each night inside her cauldron she flew up so very high
    As with her broom she swept away her traces from the sky.

    In the twilight of the evening, when night birds start to sing,
    And fireflies start to flicker and church bells start to ring,
    The wicked witch went out again as she had done for years
    And with her magic powers she turned happiness to tears.


    Part Three

    To the Twice Enchanted Forest where the Tiggleberry grows,
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows,
    A handsome Prince came sailing, guided by the Fairy’s song,
    He followed its sweet melody upon his journey long.

    The Prince had traveled bravely from a distant ocean shore
    To ask the Fairy Maid to be his love forevermore.
    They strolled into her garden, under starlight from above,
    They kissed beside the fountain and there they fell in love.

    As moonlight washed the lovers within its soft embrace,
    He kissed her on her crimson lips as she caressed his face.
    The night birds sang their gentle song and fireflies lit the air,
    As whispering lovers in the night their passion did declare.

    There in the scented garden they found a perfect love
    That lit their hearts like starlight that descended from above.
    At last their souls were happy and they floated in the night
    And like two glowing beacons, they filled the world with light.

    In the twilight of the evening, when night birds start to sing,
    And fireflies start to flicker and church bells start to ring,
    The Prince took Fairy Maiden’s hand and kissed her cheek so fair
    Then took her in his arms again and gently touched her hair.


    Part Four

    To the Twice Enchanted Forest where the Tiggleberry grows,
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows
    The wicked Baba Yaga came, her evil work to start
    And steal away the happiness from both the lovers’ hearts.

    So Fairy Maiden lost her Prince upon that very day,
    When wicked Baba Yaga’s spell sent him so far away.
    Her loving Prince was taken by the witch’s evil spell,
    And made a tiny creature that in the forest dwells.

    The witch told her a riddle as a clue to find her Prince
    Its words so strange and puzzling, theydidn’t make much sense.
    "What’s soft as downy cotton, but thorny like a rose,
    Has a nose that always sniffs the air and pinky-swinky toes?"

    “For you to break my magic spell,” old Baba Yaga said,
    “The tears of joy that you next cry must fall upon his head.”
    “You must search for him at evening with your wand to light the way,
    For only then he shows his face and hides it in the day.”

    In the twilight of the evening, as night birds start to sing,
    And fireflies start to flicker and church bells start to ring,
    The Fairy Maiden Princess took a walk down through the glen,
    To solve the witch’s riddle and find her Prince again.

    HeddgieBedgie New Member

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    The Fairy Maiden Princess
    and The Hedgehog

    © A. Minter, 2006

    SECOND HALF

    Part Five

    In the Twice-Enchanted Forest where the Tiggleberry grows,
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows,
    A tiny creature slept by day beneath a willow tree
    And dreamed of when his long lost love would come to set him free.

    Of all the little creatures, who in the forest stay,
    The hedgehog was the saddest one and hid his face by day.
    But when the sun had closed its eye and the night breeze had its say,
    The hedgehog would wake up again and go out outside to play.

    His nose was always sniffing, his eyes were bright and black,
    A curious little creature, with quills upon his back,
    A white and fluffy tummy and pinky-swinky toes,
    A tiny little stubby tail and whiskers ’round his nose.

    When seeing pretty butterflies and fireflies and such,
    He thought about the one he loved and missed her oh so much.
    So sadness soon would fill his heart and once more he would yearn,
    For Fairy Maiden Princess and pray for her return.

    In the twilight of the evening, as the night birds start to sing,
    And fireflies start to flicker and church bells start to ring,
    The lonely little hedgehog would come out into the glen,
    In hope that he would one night find his Princess once again.
    Part Six

    In the Twice-Enchanted Forest where the Tiggleberry grows
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows,
    A little hedgehog sniffed the air and searched both high and low,
    For the Fairy Maiden Princess he had lost so long ago.

    One night as he was searching, he saw a sparkling light,
    Like twinkling stars or fireflies that glimmered in the night.
    A song so melancholy floated on the evening breeze,
    A sad song never heard before that caused his heart to freeze.

    He strained to see who came his way, but it was to no avail.
    It was too dark for sight to pierce the nighttime’s silken veil.
    So he just lay there waiting, and did not move a quill,
    But tried his very best to be so completely quiet and still.

    As he bravely waited for the stranger to appear,
    He strained his ears to listen and he tried so hard to hear
    The soft sweet song of sadness that had caused his soul to ache
    And made him cry his silent tears as though his heart would break.

    In the twilight of the evening, as he heard the night birds sing,
    And saw the fireflies flicker and heard the church bells ring,
    The little hedgehog waited for a stranger to come near,
    And tried his best to be so brave and not show his fear.


    Part Seven

    In the Twice-Enchanted Forest where the Tiggleberry grows
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows,
    The hedgehog sat and waited as the stranger’s song drew near
    And knew it was the saddest song to ever touch his ear.

    Then suddenly the stranger was right there at his side,
    There was no place that he could run, there was no place to hide.
    He peeked in that direction, but he could not see at all,
    And so the little hedgehog rolled himself into a ball.

    He lay there very, very still beneath the willow tree,
    He stayed there and he waited, but did not look out to see,
    He didn’t know who came so near to kneel beside him there,
    But held his eyes so tightly shut and listened hard to hear.

    Just then he felt a gentle touch of something very soft,
    So he made his little clucking sound to chase the stranger off.
    He started huffy-puffing so there could be no doubt,
    then rolled up event tighter to make his quills stick out.

    In the twilight of the evening, as he heard the night birds sing,
    And as the fireflies flickered and he heard the church bells ring,
    The little hedgehog lay there, rolled tightly in a ball,
    And tried his best to be so brave and show no fear at all.


    Part Eight

    In the Twice-Enchanted Forest where the Tiggleberry grows
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows,
    A hedgehog lay upon the grass, and tried to be so bold
    Determined he would have the strength his courage to uphold.

    But the stranger wasn’t frightened by his huffy-puffy sound;
    She stroked his prickly quills and said "Just look what I have found!"
    "You are soft as downy cotton and thorny like a rose,
    You have a nose that sniffs the air and pinky-swinky toes!"

    Instantly he knew the voice, a voice so sweet and rare,
    His Fairy Maiden Princess at last had found him there.
    All at once her tears of grief were turned to tears of joy,
    And when the fell upon him, he again became her boy.

    Before her stood her loving Prince, the love she’d longed top see,
    She held his hand and smiled again, once more their hearts were free.
    And so the two were married upon that very night,
    In happiness forever, they found their hearts’ delight!

    In the twilight of the evening, as the night birds sweetly sang,
    The fireflies softly flickered and church bells softly rang,
    The happy Prince and Princess took each other by the hand
    And were so very happy there in that enchanted land.


    Conclusion

    In the Twice-Enchanted Forest, where the Tiggleberry grows
    And the Winkle Flowers blossom and the Giggling River flows,
    Live two eternal lovers, or so their story’s told,
    In a castle made of crystal, within a wall of purest gold.

    ‘Happily ever after’ is how most such stories end,
    But this is an exception, for it does all time transcend.
    And for all true lovers in our world, their fate it does portend,
    Such loves go own forever and their stories never end.

    In the twilight every evening, when the night birds start to sing,
    The fireflies start to flicker and church bells start to ring,
    The Fairy Princess and her Prince still go into the glen,
    And hand-in-hand go strolling there as lovers once again.

    HeddgieBedgie
  7. Artistic

    PaintedDiary JPiC Mentor

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    LOVED IT Sally and Al!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you soooo much for sharing!! These are fantabulous!!!:bravo: :bravo: :toot: :give_heart2: :jump:

    Painted :p :D
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    PaintedDiary JPiC Mentor

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    Fantabulous Fairy Tales Ladies!!!!! Wow!!!! So there's hope for me after all!! LOL!!!

    Painted ;)

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    The Raven in Winter

    A Fantasy Tale by
    sage ©

    It just wasn’t Altara’s time to be happy, she thought to herself, harrumphing under her breath. She sat straddling the bar stool at the Tarabon Pub, her snug-fitting laced leather vest, doublet and breeches doing little to hide her seductive curves. And even sitting away from the crowd did no good. She touched her mug of ale to her lips, her eyes wandering, watching the crowd of curious men peer at her through lustful eyes.

    Just about that time, Ganeda the bar mistress, shuffled her ample body over to Altara’s table. “Here lassie, have some cinnamon scones. You could use a bit of fat on those lovely bones of yours.” She cut a motherly grin on her lips and set down a plate of hot, scones from the pub’s stone oven. Mounds of hot cinnamon butter oozed its way down onto the coarse oak table. Altara wasn’t amused, but she lazily dipped one finger into the golden nectar anyway and touched it to her tongue. It did little to cheer her up. She wasn’t a bit hungry; she just wanted to be left alone.

    Altara was a young woman from the village of Tarabon, nestled on the far coast of the Aryth Ocean. She was extraordinarily beautiful with crimson lips, cheeks of fair blush, and eyes of deep azure Agate. Her thick flaxen hair was braided and pulled over to one shoulder. A loose strand of misbehaved curled tendril fell seductively over one eye, teasing to be whisked back into place. Today she paid no attention; for a change she let it have its own way.

    Altara hated the wintertime. To her the days were too short, and the nights too long, and lately she felt very much alone. She looked around at the lighted lamps hung strategically all around the pub, looking for some sort of solace from this vast loneliness that had gripped her tight. The light made a bright pool all around the damp stone walls, banishing all but a tiny dab of dimness in the furthest corners. It still didn’t afford her any relief. Every winter it was the same, dark and dingy marked by a distinctive disorder that kept her captive within its icy grip.

    She lived alone for three years since her father’s passing but instead of the years gently blurring her pain of loss, it only made her miss him more. And in the distant graveyard from that early time she wished she could’ve known her mother who died giving Altara life. All in all, she was thankful that her father had taken the time to teach her how to live off the land where she kept herself comfortable growing and bartering vegetables to the nearby townsfolk. She reminisced back to a time when he had also taught her how to handle a hunting knife with craft and cunning. There was no man far nor near that would dare compete with her skill or try to compromise her virtue.

    After Altara finished up the last dredges of her ale, she decided she’d better get herself back to her cabin. It was getting dark and she hadn’t chopped any wood before she left in preparation for the nighttime drop in temperature. This was a good way to get her mind off of her selfish needs and come back to the business at hand. Besides, she was sick and tired of the men ogling her and flirting, expecting her to give them a chance at love. It wasn’t that she was without suitors; she never lacked for male attention. But she was a dreamer and longed for that special someone that kept eluding her in her dreams. Coming back to the moment, she scolded herself for allowing her emotions to get the better of her.

    About that time she heard a rustle of feathers as a raven flew near the doorway of the pub and perched itself on the edge of the thatched roof. Someone from the back cried out. “Filthy carrion eater,” and picked up two stones that lay nearby. They flew true and the raven stepped aside but an inch, not at all flustered by the close encounter. It fluffed its wings to settle in once again, cocked its head and stared right at Altara who seemed to be transfixed by its piercing gaze. It was then she noticed a shiny ring of gold around its neck.

    Through ancient folklore Altara learned that the raven represented winter because of its ability to endure the cold. Good, she thought glumly, at least someone will be warm tonight. But even though she had seen many a raven in the village before, this one held her attention with a mystical edge of appeal. And as she ventured toward the doorway to don her cape and gloves, she seemed to feel raven’s steely black eyes watching her every move.

    Altara fingered the hilt of her curved hunting knife thrust behind her belt and confident that it was secure, she wrapped her cape around her weary body and pulled up the fur hood, tucking in her magnificent braid of spun gold. She knew full well that the cold was going to greet her with its bare teeth. Without a word she walked out into the fierce winter night, the force of the wind blowing that one loose tendril of hair from her face.

    The gray fog churned heavy as she trudged further and further into the woods. And as she walked past the river Dain, a mist rose from the water, leaving icy droplets on her fur cape. The frozen snow crunched beneath her boots, one set of footprints mocking her solitary journey home. Breezes from the hawks overhead swooshed gently nudging her in the right direction. And walking past the birch trees spiraled in white gauze she wished she could bandage her aching heart. She reached home to the cold breaking apart in her cabin. She knew she must chop wood, but for some reason it was as though she were under a spell and could do nothing more but climb under the covers and fall fast asleep.

    Morning rays of sunlight sliced through her cabin windows as Altara’s eyes came open to the sound of chopping wood. She shook her head to clear away the last remnants of sleep and pushed aside the sleeping fur she had nestled down into last night. A warm glow found her from across the room, and when she looked over she couldn’t believe her eyes. There was a gently fire flowing in the fireplace, next to a neatly stacked pile of freshly cut oak. She swathed herself in her fur blanket and walked over to the window and saw an unfamiliar figure of a handsome man chopping wood. She watched for a moment as if in a trance as he continued with much adeptness, piling it up as quickly as the mid-day snow fell and melted in the river. She dressed without haste and went outside to confront the stranger. Approaching with trepidation, she managed to eek out a question.

    “Sir, what may I ask are you doing on my plot of land?” She was amazed at her candid braveness.

    “Do not be alarmed Altara. I am Fitch, a friend, and passing by I noticed your wood pile close to the ground so I thought to cut a cord in lay for the long winter.”

    Altara could not utter another word. No sooner had their eyes met she was captivated by his gaze, mimicking aquamarine, honoring the deep blue seas of the ocean. The sun by now was getting high on the morning and its glint danced amorously off something around the stranger’s neck. It was a shiny ring of gold.

    Words between them were of no use as they came together surrendering into each other’s arms. Altara had no need to question who this was; it was as if she already knew. And for the first time from so long ago she felt completely safe and loved.

    Thus was born a forever moment lying within the ancient turning of the Wheel of Time, born anew within each winter solstice. Just look deep into your heart for crimson black of raven, the one with the shiny ring of gold around his neck, the one that will shape shift into the handsome stranger who will take your breath away, and love you until the end of time. If only you believe.

    The End


    Posted By sage | Dec 9, 2006
    #13

    Storytime New Member

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    Twas indeed a fantasy. Nicely penned!

    So it's a cord of wood, is it? Much more useful than a diamond.


    Posted By Storytime | Dec 9, 2006
    #14

    sage New Member

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    thanks sid, so nice to meet you and thanks for reading my tale...yes, a cord of wood, under certain circumstances, worth much more than a diamond!
    :cheers: :rightthere: :word_hello: :wavey: :jump:

    write for the night is coming,
    sage


    Posted By sage | Dec 9, 2006
    #15

    Storytime New Member

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    “Sir, what may I ask are you doing on my plot of land?”

    Some how I'm reading more into this than "Who the hell are you?". 'My plot of land' is much more personal and carries with it an inherent fear as well as expectation. As such it fits as a foreshadowing and almost as a fait a comple (my French is worse than rotten).


    Posted By Storytime | Dec 10, 2006
    #16

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