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June 11, 2018

DOUBLE FAIRY TALE FLASH - Dark Bat, Bright Bat AND When Indigo Left the Rainbow

Summer and rainbows go together...
This week, Enchanted Conversation presents two tales that feature the beauty of rainbows.
Dark Bat, Bright Bat retold by C.L. Clickard
and 
When Indigo Left the Rainbow by Carmen Redondo
We hope you enjoy them and share your thoughts
with the authors of these tales in the comments section below.
In the time when animals spoke and we remembered to listen,
there was no animal uglier than Bat.

Coconut palms cradled chattering higuaca birds.
Waterfalls welcomed the heron’s dance.
Tiny humming guani fluttered in the golden vines.
But Bat huddled alone in the shadows
loved by no one.

On a morning, shimmering green and hot,

Bat swooped to the hut of Yaya
the great creator.

“See, how my wings are bent with cold
and my back is slick from rain?
I want a fine warm coat of feathers!”

Yaya had no feathers left in his basket.
“I will borrow one feather from each of your brothers.”
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet

Ruffling his new coat,
Bat swooped over the forest.
“No one can call me ugly now!”

Each day,
after the sun soaked up the afternoon rain,
Bat soared and swirled through the clouds.
And the sky echoed his colors

All the forest stopped to admire Bat’s new skin.
He peered down at his brothers’ gaping bills and beaks.
“Look at the holes in your coats!” Bat smirked.
“None of you is as beautiful as I am now!”

Click. Clack. Bills and beaks snapped shut.
“We did not give our feathers
so that he could brag!”

With a squawk and a snort
the birds flew to Yaya’s hut
“Bat makes fun of us,” they complained.
“And we miss our feathers!”

Yaya stirred his cook pot.
“I hear you little brothers.”

The next day Bat swooped across the sky.
He swelled his chest
shook his wings
and PLOOF!
A rain of feathers fell on the forest.

“Noooooooooo!”

All that day, while the sun
smiled down on the forest
Bat huddled in his cave,
covering his nakedness with shadow.

When the sun fell asleep that night
Bat darted over the treetops
searching for his lost feathers.

He’s looking for them still.

But the only one who remembers
Bat’s beautiful feathered coat
is the sky after a midday rain.


Carrie L. Clickard is an internationally published author and poet.  Her books include MAGIC FOR SALE (Holiday House, 2017), DUMPLING DREAMS (Simon and Schuster 2017), VICTRICIA MALICIA (Flashlight Press) and the forthcoming THOMAS JEFFERSON & THE MAMMOTH HUNT (Simon and Schuster, 2019). Her poetry and short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies and periodicals including Andromeda Spaceways, Havok, Myriad Lands, Spellbound, Penumbra, Muse, Haiku of the Dead and Underneath the Juniper Tree.

You can learn more about Carrie & her work at www.clclickard.com.

Cover: Amanda Bergloff
The seven spirits came together as always to create a rainbow. When Mother Sky told them that a rainbow was in order for Earth, they listened and glided along the clouds. Red led the way followed by Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, and Violet. Far below, humans glanced up to the heavens, admiring the glorious rainbow.

As they flew in place, holding their position next to Mother Sky’s guidance, Indigo looked down at the Earth. He often wondered what it would be like to live among the humans. Suddenly, mother told them their task was finished for now, and the siblings dispersed, ending the rainbow.

Indigo flew to his mother and spoke of his wish to join the humans. He asked for a way to live below on Earth. She pondered the matter with Father Sun and together decided to allow their son’s request. Indigo was to take the form of a young man and live among the humans for one year.

Before he left she said to him, “Indigo, you will learn the significance of why you create rainbows with your brothers and sisters. When you return, you will have gained wisdom.”

With this spoken, he became human. Indigo found a home with an elderly couple and worked all day among their field, as payment for a room and food. He learned what physical labor meant, often chopping wood under the warmth of Father Sun up above.

One evening after the rain, he saw a rainbow. The kind man he lived with squinted up, his many wrinkles forming creases that signified days of happiness and sorrow. His wife was also looking up to the sky, which made Indigo curious to find out what they were thinking.

“Excuse me,” Indigo asked, “Do you like the rainbow?”

The wise woman smiled and said, “Well, it is something remarkable. My husband and I like to think of it as a reminder that life is very precious. It also makes you forget about your troubles, if you have any. I will say though, it seems as if a color is missing lately, but my eyes are not what they used to be after all.”

Indigo nodded in silence. He had never thought of his job in that way. He always thought that rainbows were merely created to look beautiful, and nothing else.

From then on, he kept gaining knowledge as his mother said he would. He enjoyed every second of his time on Earth, until the year was over and he returned to his home. United with his family, he discovered a respect for the immortal requirement of creating rainbows. Each time he flew next to his siblings, he hoped humans below were glancing up and feeling an ease to their burdens, if only for a moment.
Carmen Redondo loves fantasy and fairy tales, which are elements she often includes in her writing. She loves reading a good book, watching a new movie, warm weather, and eating pizza.
You can follow her on Twitter: @storieswriting  

Cover: Amanda Bergloff

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April 1, 2018

The Name Game: A Folktale from Nigeria - C.L. Clickard

Not one of you knows my name...

In the time of tales and tails, Hippo was once mighty king of the land. He had more friends than he could count and more food than he could eat. He had seven fine fat hippo wives and a herd of plump precious children. What he didn’t have was a name. That is, nobody knew his name - except for his seven hippo wives.


One night at Hippo’s feast, when everyone was slurping and burping, Hippo looked out at his friends and frowned.

“HUNH!” he said. “Every day you come and eat my food, but not one of you knows my name.  Where’s the respect? Where’s the love? If you can’t guess my name, then I say this feast is over. You’re going home hungry tonight!“


“Ewo!” cried the guests, sneaking a few more mouthfuls. “Nu-uh, King Hippo. We love you. We respect you. You know that.”


“So my name is …….?”


Nobody wanted to go home empty bellied, so they tried.


“Adebyi the Awesome?” Buffalo guessed.


“Tiwa the Terrible?” asked Antelope.


“Kalu the Courageous?” whistled Waxbill.


“Fred?” squeaked Mouse.


“Fred??!” Hippo bellowed.“Fred? Do I look like a Fred? Wrong, wrong, wrong. This feast is over!”


Furred and feathered faces dove into bowls for one last bite, then grumbling headed for home.


“Not our fault he never told us his name.”


“He got a secret, he can keep his secret.”


One small Tortoise stopped at Hippo’s gate. “Wait! What if I can tell you your name tomorrow?”


“HA-HA-HA-Hooey!” Hippo belly laughed. “Little you? Know my HUGE hippo name? Well, we shall have one more feast tomorrow, and if you guess my name, bitty Tortoise, then I will take my fine fat wives and my precious plump children and go live in the river forever.”


The next day Tortoise waited for Hippo to parade his family down to the river. He counted each hippo wife as they went by: otu, abua, ato, ano, ise, isii, asaa. He counted each ker-sploosh as they hit the water: otu, abua, ato, ano, ise, isii, asaa. Then, Tortoise hurried out to the middle of Hippo’s path and started to dig. When the  hole was bigger than Toad but smaller than Tortoise he wriggled over to hide behind a uko tree.


“Huh-UH-HAAA!” With a tremendous shake and snort Hippo finished his bath and led the way back home. Tortoise counted the hippo wives as they went by: otu, abuo, ato, ano, ise. Only five wives had jiggled past. The last two were far behind.


“Yes!” Tortoise cheered. “This will work perfectly.”


He slipped into the hole, tucked his head in the dirt and left his bottom waggling in the air. Isii. Wife number six strolled right past. But… OOOF!!! Wife number seven tripped on Tortoise’s hard shell.


“Aiiiii!” she cried. “King Isantim, my husband, I hurt my foot.”


“Come home lovely one, and I will kiss it better,” Hippo bellowed back.
Wife number seven giggled and hurried down the road. All alone now, Tortoise wriggled out of the hole and smiled all the way home.  
At Hippo’s feast that night, everyone waited for Tortoise. He strolled past the seven fine hippo wives until he stood before the king.
“Let’s hear it, little one,” Hippo boomed. “Tell me my name and we can all get to eating.”
“Will you keep your promise?” asked Tortoise.
“Ho ho h-of course!” chuckled Hippo. “Are you afraid to guess my name wrong? Here’s a clue:  It’s not Fred.”
“Oh, everyone knows that. Even bitty me, King Isantim!”
Hippo’s mouth fell open so wide you could count his teeth but his guests were too busy eating to try. When the feast was over, Hippo kept his promise. Now he spends all day in the water with his fine fat hippo wives and his plump precious children  -- and only sneaks onto land at night when he thinks no one can see him.
Carrie L. Clickard is an internationally published author and poet. Her books include MAGIC FOR SALE (Holiday House, 2017), DUMPLING DREAMS (Simon and Schuster 2017), VICTRICIA MALICIA (Flashlight Press) and the forthcoming THOMAS JEFFERSON & THE MAMMOTH HUNT (Simon and Schuster, 2019). Her poetry and short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies and periodicals including Andromeda Spaceways, Havok, Myriad Lands, Spellbound, Penumbra, Muse, Haiku of the Dead and Underneath the Juniper Tree.
You can learn more about Carrie & her work at www.clclickard.com.

Cover Layout: Amanda Bergloff
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