The Boy Who Snared the Sun
This time around, the storyteller begins a tale about the world back in the day, when "[i]n all the world there was just one small fire, watched by two old witches who let nobody come near it." But the old man goes on to add that Coyote eventually came along and stole some of the fire so people could cook with it. I like the idea of some kind of special fire or rare, mythical resource watched over by two or three old witches, and then somebody coming along trying to steal it, with no real indication on who's in the right on this—are the witches trying to hoard or protect it? Is the thief trying to play Robin Hood or help himself, hurt the witches? Who knows. Bit of both, I think, in the immortal words of Peter Quill.
The Boy Who Snared the Sun (Part II)
In this one, the line that caught my eye was when the brother asked his sister if they were really the only two people living in the world. I wouldn't want to go quite that route, but I like the idea of a small group of people tucked away in a remote part of the world—not a post-zombie apocalypse kind of thing, but maybe after some kind of disaster. Conflicts and camaraderie within a small, forced-together group are both more powerful for that isolation and the nature of being a small team, and they can lead to great stories, as shown by the episode "Ice" of The X-Files or 10 Cloverfield Lane. So I'd like to experiment a little bit with something like that.
The Boy Who Snared the Sun (Part III)
The way the storyteller stared into the flames of the fire as if "he saw pictures in the flames, and in the red coals, and...these pictures helped him to tell the story" was the first element to catch my eye. It makes me think of a pyrokinetic seer or something, some kind of fire whisperer, and I think that could be fun—a good chance to explore the potential fire has to help or to just completely, gleefully destroy. Sometimes both at the same time.
But the desperation of the rest of the animals to wake the Dormouse—and how practically impossible the task was—were also kind of inspiring. If I were to take that route, I think I'd go with a gender-swapped Sleeping Beauty, more action-adventure than fairy tale, in either a cyberpunk setting or a modern one that still involves spells and rituals and old magic.
How the Summer Came
With this one, I'm probably most inspired by the hunter character who can turn into animals. If I ended up using that for my weekly story, I'd probably go with a guy who's cursed, stuck in some nonhuman form most of the time, and the protagonist who's warily allied with him in the hopes of finding the one who cursed him—because that person's cursed her too. And though the guy's less physically vulnerable in this cursed state, when he does transform back into a person again (at night, or with a certain moon, or however we end up wanting to play this), those formerly minor wounds can cause some problems.
How the Summer Came (Part II)
This time around, I was intrigued by the way the people whispered about the rumors that the boundaries of what seemed like their entire world might just be the beginning of a different world. It makes me think of a group of people gathered together and trapped in a seemingly inescapable area, who eventually realise they can team up and fight their way out. If they work together for a change.
Besides that, I think a personified version of this Lightning they keep talking about could be pretty fun to experiment with, too.
How the Summer Came (Part III)
I really love the idea of a person turning into a constellation, especially with the element of tragedy this story managed to incorporate, which gave it more weight—but I'm not sure I'd be able to pull off anything all that poignant, character-wise, in this short of a story. That said, the scene where the group stayed the night at the other Manito's lodge seemed to have quite a bit of potential, too: especially the part where the protagonist noticed that the three-eyed Manito kept one eye open while he slept. Like I mentioned earlier, I like tropes where untrusting individuals are crammed together into a group whether they like it or not, and these two seemed to exemplify that kind of thing. So I may see what I could do with a setup inspired by that.
The Fairy Bride
From this story, I'm definitely most interested in the early section that describes the main character:
But she liked best of all to walk by herself in the forest, or to follow some dim trail that led to the heart of the little hills. Sometimes she would be absent for many hours and when she returned, her eyes had the look of one who has dwelt in secret places, and seen things strange and mysterious.... What was it that Neen-i-zu saw and heard, during these lonely walks in the secret places of the hills? Was it perhaps the fairies? She did not say.I like the idea of a similarly distant character as the protagonist's sibling; maybe said sibling is always going on about things that aren't there and is afraid of stuff that can't be seen, and everyone else has come to accept that that's just how the kid is, but there's no real harm in it. Until the main character comes home and finds one of the monsters in their house—or better yet, that one of those monsters has not possessed her sibling, merged with it. The kid is the only one who would've known how to stop the thing—and now it's the only one who wouldn't want to. Your move, Protagonist.
The Fairy Bride (Part II)
The protagonist's eventual fairy groom, described as "[s]omething with the dim likeness of a youth...who glided rather than walked," reminded me a lot of one of Tolkien's elves. But I like how this association was subtle, more in description and mood than straight-out telling. Because I find stories about fey and elves appealing but also feel like they've been done to death recently, I'm interested in using a similar method to imply that connection, but avoiding the staleness that often comes with it. (Brenna Yovanoff does an excellent job with this in her books, for the record.) So we'll see where the elf/fey angle could lead in a story this length.
Bibliography: American Indian Fairy Tales by W.T. Larned. Source: Mythology and Folklore UN-Textbook.
Image Credit: "Gloomy Forest" by JovanCormac. Source: Wikimedia Commons.
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