The idea from the beginning of this, where the Leopard and Antelope bet something as huge as their lives on something as trivial as a game of hide-and-go-seek, was the first thing that caught my attention. For some reason, it made me imagine a couple of immortal frenemies—with sort of a "can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em" dynamic, sort of like a hero and his arch nemesis, but with harmless bickering in place of actual malice—who bet stupid things like nickels or their lives (since they can't die) on petty bets. If I were to use that for my inspiration, I'd probably wind up with a story exploring that dynamic, what it means for that and the characters themselves to always stay the same in a world that's constantly changing around them, and immortality itself.
When I first reached the part where the spider and his team infiltrated the heavens with spider webbing, I got a distinct heist vibe from the story, and I guess I could always take my version in that direction. But as I read on, the aspect of the story that really caught my interest was the idea of this little delegation of mortals—and not just that, but animals, more mortal than even humans—venturing into a land of gods. I think that could quickly lead to trouble, and it could be fun to watch them try to scrape their way out of it, with mixed results.
Though it's probably fair to say the turtle shouldn't be a likable character in this one, there's no denying he has style—the idea of him setting a trap and then tricking his enemies into that same trap again and again is ridiculously fun. If I were to do a story based off of this, that's definitely the element that I would want to incorporate, but I'm not yet sure how I would go about it; all I know is that it calls for a main character with Kid Loki-like flair.
At one point in this tale, the Leopard catches the Antelope in a trap, and the Antelope begs for his life. The Leopard considers, then insists, "No, I must kill you." To me, that's the most interesting part of this story—that moment where the Leopard genuinely gave the matter some thought, then decided he really did have to go through with it. If I were to use this one as my inspiration, it would revolve around a protagonist who catches some kind of dangerous monster in a trap, determined to kill it. But when she actually does catch the creature and gets to know it, that determination is eroded to weary resolve, then full-blown uncertainty. I'd like to look at the dynamic between the monster and the protagonist, and what it is that would make her hesitate instead of following through. Maybe more than anything else, I'm curious what kind of person would set the trap in the first place, but also come around to the monster's level in the end.
On one level, one of the most compelling parts of this story was just the image where the fisherman followed Sunga's servant after he's been summoned: the child leading him to the river, the river drying up completely once he steps into it, surrounding trees disappearing to help clear the path. And then, once he finally arrives, an empty seat at a waiting feast. It's got this eerie, held-breath atmosphere to it, and I love it. But on a storytelling level, a character cursed so he's lost the ability to speak is great (and kind of classic) material, so that's worth looking into, too.
The general character of the Rabbit cracked me up in this story, and that's probably what I'd take with me into my own adaptation: the idea of a short character with a little bit of a Napoleon complex, big on protecting his honor even though he doesn't have any, quick to throw a punch even when there's no need to. Not sure yet what kind of story would best complement that, but I'm sure it would be a fun one to tell.
The idea of the rulers of two opposed countries seemed interesting to me, just because the ones here both owned fetishes/charms they could send to do their bidding, and that meant those charms were also opposed. It makes me wonder what a war would look like from the point of view from a couple of war avatars or something, built/born for war and sent for war, but maybe kind of tired of it.
With this one, the bit that snatched at my attention was the first line about the fetish/charm, "who,
who by his representative in the flesh, a princess, rules the country with a rod of iron." The idea of a powerful entity of magic like that being linked to a human, "a representative in the flesh," especially a powerful human at that—it's very interesting, and I think a connection like that would be interesting to explore. I would keep that element at the heart of my story, surround it with a different setting and genre and characters, and focus on that dynamic between the avatar and the human: try to figure out who is using whom, and see if their life forces themselves are actually tied together, and look at how they're influencing and impacting each other, for better or for worse.
If I were to base my piece this week off this story, I would probably wind up writing a story in which either the protagonist tries to pit his/her enemies against each other (and doesn't quite succeed, which becomes clear when the villains end up teaming up against the protagonist), or a story in which the villain tries to pit the protagonist against another character who eventually becomes his/her ally. It's a fun trope either way, and I'd want to give it a rough but playful mood to reflect that—rough-and-tumble and boisterous.
I found it interesting that the hard-hearted crocodile of this piece gets all vulnerable and uncertain just because the weak chicken calls him "brother," and he wonders if they might really be family. It makes me want to write a villain or antihero inspired by that same vulnerability: either just at the chance of family, or by his less morally flexible family members instead. I think a story exploring his relationship with those less morally flexible family members could be a lot of fun, especially if they're all forced to team up for some reason, letting the good times and the bad bubble back up to the surface for all of them again.
In this story, when the poor mother abandons her newborn triplets because she can't afford to feed them all, a nearby river spirit calls out to the boys and helps guide them to food. Later, when they've grown up strong thanks to its guidance, it provides them with beautiful wives, too. I love the idea of some kind of lower-level deity adopting some orphans and raising them indirectly, so that's what I'd end up writing about if I used this story as my inspiration for the week. I especially think it'd be interesting to look at the conflicts that arise from the fact that they're mortal and she's not, and also to see what it would be like to be raised (kind of at a distance, either literally or metaphorically) by a god.
Bibliography: Notes on the Folklore of the Fjort by R. E. Dennett. Source: Mythology and Folklore UN-Textbook.
Image Credit: "A Crow Trap at Whitchesters Farm," by Walter Baxter. Source: Geograph.
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