Saturday, August 23, 2014

There was once a girl and a raccoon.

The raccoon blinked up, caught sniffing through her bag. She bent down and shook its hands. We'll be fast friends, she said. That was how they met.

They shared warmth, food, and amused each other thoroughly. That was how they survived.

One day they met an old man at the crossroads of a woody path.

Help me, he said.

The raccoon ran off. Run, it told the girl. But she stopped. She helped the old man find the axe he left in the woods, which he used to kill her.

Tiny raccoon tears dropped on the grass. The raccoon watched helplessly behind a tree.


Help me, he said.

The girl said, wait. I'll get help. My raccoon will stay with you.

When she returned with people, both the old man and her best friend were gone. Only bloodstains on the grass remained.


Help me, he said.

How may we help you?

My axe is lost in the woods. It is my only possession. I cannot survive without it.

I'm sorry, was the reply. They started backing away.

Why? Will you not help an old man?

Where did the blood on your hands come from? Where?

They ran.

Later that night, the girl asked the raccoon, what blood were you speaking of?

Blood? It was smeared all over his hands, he replied.

I didn't see any.

What are you talking about? His hands were soaked in it.

Hmm, she snuggled against the raccoon. Is that so?

They fell asleep, together.

Excerpt from Tales By Wise Ones, For Young Cubs