SHORT STORY: Tale by the Fire

This is also something I wrote for school, although this was for Swedish class originally, and not quite so long ago as "Baby Blue"'s first conception. The translation is so-so because I'm too darned stubborn.

Basically this is a story about how a creational myth might begin. Perhaps not very realistic, but I'm rather fond of the myth itself. I have even considered weaving it into a longer story.

Anyhoo, enough about that; hope you enjoy!



A Tale by the Fire

It was a cold night. The two moons rose up above the desert like two pale ghosts or a matching set of leaf thin bone white china, saucer and plate held up against the light as if to be admired by God. Their combined light lit up the night, and when they began their hunt across the starry sky there were two pairs of eyes that followed them.

The eyes belonged to two children, a girl of eight years and a boy of six, an age when children are inquisitive and believe that the older one is the more one knows. So they turned to the oldest person they knew: their grandfather.

"Grandfather, who made the world?" asked the girl.

"And why is there only one sun when we have two moons, and why is the sun still brighter?" asked the boy who was still staring at the moons, his chin leaning into his hand and his elbow propped up on one of the smaller rocks of which their shelter against the wind consisted of.

The grandfather, a very old man - an impressive age of almost sixty years - took a burning stick from the fire and lit his pipe. His oldest daughter, the children's mother, observed him with a hidden smile on her lips as she waited to see how he would get out of this one.

"Well, well," said the old man, puffing on his primitive pipe. "And why do you need to know that?"


"Don't you know, Grandfather?" came the shocked question. The children hadn't considered that there was something he didn't know.

"Of course I know!" he exclaimed, offended. He waved his pipe threateningly at them but stopped when he realized that that was just a good way to loose valuable tobacco. "I just don't understand why you need to know, as young as you are," he continued.

"Oh please, Grandfather! Pretty please!" The little girl put her hand on his arm and his face softened.

"Yes Father," said his daughter as she also sat down by the fire with her tired four-year-old in her lap. "Tell us all how the world came to be."


"Well..." The old man puffed a bit more on his pipe before he began: "In the beginning... there was nothing."

"Nothing?" asked the six-year-old, big-eyed.

"Yes, nothing," the old man replied irritably. "Don't interrupt. In the beginning there was nothing, only vacant space. But the space fell in on itself and formed an egg."

"How can that happen?" asked the girl, her otherwise smooth forehead wrinkled as she pondered. "Nothing is nothing. It can't become something."

"Don't talk back to your elders girl!" growled the old man. "This was a special kind of nothing! And it was possible because an almighty being, a... a... god used its hands to shape it into an egg."

"What's a god?"


"God," their mother said while she patted her youngest boy's soft brown locks, her amused eyes meeting her father's, "God is the word the shamans in the west use that means 'all-powerful', and for the shamans that's the same as 'all-knowing'."

"Exactly," grumbled the woman's father in satisfaction, once again waving his pipe. "Exactly so. "

"Was the god a woman or a man?" asked the girl.

Her mother interrupted her father again. "A woman of course." She turned to her father who looked very upset. "It's after all women who bring life into this world. Isn't that right, Father? I have yet to see a man give birth."

"The old man nodded reluctantly. "Yes, yes, the god was a woman. She came from the Land of the Spirits, a land that existed long before the nothing collapsed on itself, and she nurtured the egg she had formed with her own two hands. She didn't know what it was to become and she was very curious - like all women." He glared at his daughter together with the small dig, but she only smiled at her aging father.

"What is her name?" asked the older boy.

"Her name? Hmm... She had none. They who live in the Land of the Spirits don't need names."

The boy looked downcast but the old man continued his story.

"After what was at once an eternity and just a second - time didn't exist yet - the egg's shell began to crack. The god separated the two halves carefully." The grandfather made gestures with his hands as if cracking an egg. "And there she found... there she found..." He lost the thread.


"What Grandfather?" the two older children shouted, their little brother helping them with a sleepy and half-hearted, "Wha'?"

"Well children," their mother said when their grandfather seemed to have lost the ability to speak and was hiding himself behind a nervous cloud of smoke of his own creation. "What she found was a small grain of sand."

"As small as this?" asked the girl and showed her mother a particularly small grain of sand.

"No," her mother replied smiling. "Bigger than that. You must remember that gods are much bigger than us and think almost everything on this earth is small."

She continued: "The god was so fascinated with this shining grain of sand that she couldn't stop fingering it and thinking of it. And gradually, gradually the grain of sand grew; bigger and bigger, until it was big enough for the god to stand upon. The god was delighted and called all the other gods from the Land of the Spirits to show them. 'Look!'' she said. 'Look at what I have created.’

"And the gods looked at the land that stretched in all directions; this brown, unchanging and rather boring land, empty of all but sand. ‘ Is this all?' said one. 'What to I care about this ugly place when I have my beautiful garden,' said another. And one by one they left the creating god alone and disappointed. Only her husband lingered. 'Forget this, mine heartsong," he said in an attempt to comfort her. 'Come home with me, for I have missed thee.' But the god withdrew from her husband’s embrace, and he left her there alone."

"Is her name Heartsong?" the older boy asked hopefully.

"No stupid!" said his big sister. "That's what Father calls Mother, isn't it? What all men call their wives."

“Don’t be like that,” admonished her mother when she saw her son’s unhappy face. “The reason men call their wives ‘heartsong’ is because is because this was the god’s name. And her husband was Heartsinger, and it’s because of this that all women call their husbands ‘heartsinger’ or ‘thee who sings my heartsong’.”


“But Grandfather said they don’t have any names!” insisted the girl. “Right Grandfather? Right?”

The old man, who had sat in silence and had himself been amazed by his daughter’s story, cleared his throat and said apologetically, “Weeeell, that wasn’t quite true, I just couldn’t remember the god’s name in the gods’ own language. Your mother simply translated it.”

“What are their names in their own language then?”

“Weeeell,” the old man repeated in avoidance. His pipe belched forth more smoke.

“Amineraq was her name,” answered his daughter in his place without hesitation. “And her husband’s name was Amineraquin. But one only use their real names when it is important.”

“What happened them?” the boy asked.

The woman looked at her father and when he didn’t say anything, she continued,” When her husband had returned to the Land of the Spirits, Heartsong began, in her despair and disappointment and loneliness, to dance. She whirled up the sand while her tears fell in heavy drops upon the ground. In this way grass and plants began to grow. But Heartsong didn’t notice any of this and continued her dance. She stamped out the seas and lakes and her tears filled these.”

“What are seas?” interrupted her son.

“Seas are great collections of water that lay beyond the mountains. I have never seen them myself, but your father has. You will have to ask him more about it.”


“Fancy you not knowing what seas are!” snorted his sister.

“You didn’t know that either, girl of mine,” said her mother revealingly and the girl blushed.

As the woman had begun her tale the rest of the little clan’s old, women and children had begun to gather around their fire, so that now they were all together fourteen sitting around the fire.

“Go on,” urged one of the younger women breathlessly. “Please.”

“The god Heartsong drove her dance across the entire surface of what could hardly be called a grain of sand anymore. In certain places where she was extra violent in her dance the sand hardened to rock and grew into mountains, in other places where her dance was almost still most remained sand. Like here,” added the woman and opened her arms wide as if she would embrace everything. In her lap her youngest slept.

“At last the god collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and fell asleep.”

“Don’t the shamans in the west call their female gods goddesses?” asked one of the older women tentatively, as the one doing the storytelling was the chieftain’s wife.

“Yes, that is true,” she laughed. “I had completely forgotten that. Thank you.” Her father snorted and muttered something along the lines of that his daughter should know more than anyone else. “Father dear, don’t be like that,” she said tenderly and then continued again, “Heartsong slept a long, long time. So long that when she awoke, she was surprised at how much the world she had created had changed. Around her trees had grown, grass covered the ground she lay on like a blanket, and beside her an oasis had formed from the tears she occasionally had shed in her sleep.


“She wandered in near self-admiration around the little world she had created in her dance. She waded in the lakes; she bathed in the seas; she plucked fruit from the trees and plaited a garland of flowers that she laid upon her night-black hair; she wandered enjoyably through the desert. And as she walked she named everything with unique names. She stayed there a long time in wonder of everything. But soon the loneliness returned and she called to her husband. ‘See! See how beautiful the ugliness has become.’ And he saw and he expressed his admiration for her work. Then they embraced and made love.”

Here the young women sighed longingly, the older ones nodded in agreement while the eldest ones cackled amongst themselves. The children rolled their eyes so that no one would notice their curiosity in this thing that only adults were allowed to do.

“After their lovemaking the goddess became with child and she gave birth to triplets. The oldest was a big and splendid son with golden hair and brown skin. They gave him the name Sun. The other two were both girls, almost identical with each other; silver hair, white skin and black eyes they both had, but one was larger than the other. The larger was given the name Mooncat and the smaller Moonmouse. Their brother was bigger than both of them and very protective of his two sisters.

“In their joy Heartsong and Heartsinger made love once more and soon Heartsong was with child again. This time it was twins, the daughter Earth and the son Water. And so it continued until the world was full of Heartsong’s and Heartsinger’s Children.”

“How many?” asked one of the other children.

“Very many,” answered the chieftain’s woman. “I might repeat all of them some other time.

“Now it was,” she continued, “that Sun, the oldest, had begun to retreat up into the sky more and more to think about all kinds of things. It was also noticed that Moonmouse often sat and looked yearningly at her shining brother’s form up in the sky. At last Sun said to his mother and father, ‘I know now mine purpose. This world needs light to survive. I shall be this light. But I shall return to ye a little while each night.’ His parents wept and embraced him and said farewell.

“When Moonmouse was told this she immediately tried to follow him. But her sister took hold of her. ‘Thy love for our brother is not possible,’ said Mooncat to her sister. ‘He does not love thee in the same way, and siblings should not love in this way.’ Moonmouse refused to listen and fought her sister to such a degree that at the same moment that Sun sank behind the horizon for the first time, she flew up into the sky with Mooncat after her. And while Moonmouse struggles to catch up to Sun, Mooncat holds her back.

“And that’s why we have two moons and only one sun,” the woman finished.


“No, don’t end there!” her listeners begged. “Tell us more!”

She turned to her father. “Do you want to take over? It was after all your story from the beginning.”

“No, no,” he said, waving his pipe again. “You are truly a much better storyteller than me.”

“Please Mother!” begged her children who despite their drowsiness wanted to hear the rest.

“Well, who can say no to that?” she said mostly to herself and began again, “Soon all the Children moved off to find their respective tasks. Water took the salt away from the lakes and created rivers and rain. The four brothers North-Wind, South-Wind, West-Wind and East-Wind worked together with Water and helped him move the clouds of rain, and with their sister Earth to spread seeds to distant lands. War drove about restlessly. The twins Lightning and Thunder helped all by releasing the tensions that could exist between them.

“Heartsong and Heartsinger were pulled together in their regret over their absent Children and after making love a final time she was with child again. The birth was a difficult one and the Child was stillborn. Heartsinger breathed life into the Child but it was too late. The girl-child took the name Death for herself and said, ‘Ye already know mine purpose, and so do I. The balance must be kept. For things to truly live they must also die.’ And with these words Death left for her domain beneath the ground.

“The grief for Death was great, and to comfort herself Heartsong began to create shapes in the mud beside the oasis she had herself cried into existence in her sleep. She spat in the mud and in that way gave the shapes life. The first creatures were monstrous; dragons, sphinxes and griffins were merely some. Heartsinger also began to help to shape the mud and with his help trolls, unicorns, dwarves and fairies were created. Soon animals such as horses, cows, dogs and camels were also made. These were dumber than the previous creations but there were many more of them. Many of the Children who had not yet found their tasks found them now with these creatures.

“One day Heartsong formed a creature that looked like herself. But it was wrong. It walked wrong, thought wrong and talked wrong. She went to her husband. ‘What does thou think is wrong with this creature I have tried to make?’ and he answered, ‘Come and I will help thee. We will find the answer.’ And so they sat down together and shaped the creature again. But again it was wrong. They began again and this time when Heartsong spat in the mud, Heartsinger also spat. Thus their saliva mixed together in the mud and this time they succeeded. They created ten of these creatures and called them Mankind. Five of them were women and five of them were men. And now the remaining Children such as Love, War and Greed found their tasks in the world.

“Then Heartsong called upon the gods who had rejected her creation and said unto them, ‘See! What do ye think now of this land?’ And the gods found it was good and asked to have a part in it. But the goddess denied them. ‘I was willing before when this world was but sand to allow ye to help me make something of it. But ye spurned it and now it is too late. Now it belongs to mine Children and only them.’


The gods returned to the Land of the Spirits that was now pale in comparison to the world Heartsong had created. And also Heartsong and Heartsinger retired to the Land of the Spirits to keep their eye on their Children from afar.”

There the woman finished her story.

“Please! Tell us more,” begged the others.

“No,” she said. “Now you will have to wait until tomorrow night. It is time to sleep. Tomorrow I will tell you about the first men and women.”

And with those words she stood up with her youngest son in her arms and told her tired older children to come with her. Her father also followed.

“What did you think, Father?” she asked after she had put her children to bed.

“I didn’t know you had such a gift for storytelling,” he answered. “How did you come up with all that?”

She shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know. It simply felt right to say it.”

And with that said, she lay down and fell asleep.

THE END