Assignment:

Your task is to take the story about how evil comes into the world, from King’s text, and change it to tell it. First, learn the story by heart, and then tell the story to your friends and family. When you are finished, post a blog with your version of the story and some commentary on what you discovered. If you want, you can post a video of you telling the story, in place of text.

My story:

     I have a great story to tell you. It’s about evil and how it came into the world. I can see already that you don’t believe me, but just listen and you will.

     It wasn’t white people or black people or red people or yellow people who brought it here, although we often like to pretend it was, to pass blame off onto others. You want to know who it was who brought evil into the world? It was witch people.

     Now, I know what you’re going to say. Witches don’t exist. But that’s where you’re wrong. Witches do exist, but not in the way we know them from stories. Those stories were told by the real witches, to keep us from discovering them. There are witches all over the world: some men, some women, some old, some young, some black, some white, some red, some yellow, some all mixed: all witches. It’s the real witches who drowned women and burnt them at the stake, to divert attention from themselves.

     Now, once long ago, there was a gathering of witches from all over the world. They had come together to see who could produce the best magic. They cackled and they laughed, then the first witch stepped up to compete in the competition. Let’s call him Mr. Harper. So Mr. Harper stepped up and he showed the witches how he could dig deep into the ground and extract a gooey, black substance, which he then tossed across the world in exchange for squirts of liquid gold and a clatter of coins. All the witches cheered. They liked Mr. Harper’s trick very much.

     Then the next witch stepped up. Let’s call him Mr. Abbott. Everyone had liked Mr. Harper’s trick so much that they didn’t think Mr. Abbott could outdo him, but Mr. Abbott ran around in circles, creating a massive pit in the ground. After much running, he emerged with his arms full of steel-like rocks and golden nuggets which he then tossed across the world in exchange for coins and jewellery. The witches were very impressed indeed! That was a good trick.

     After Mr. Abbott, another witch went, then another. Some turned forests into butter-like blocks of oil; some flew into the air and shot down wolves; some laid cement overtop of cacti, proudly announcing they were paving the way for the future. The witches were impressed time and time again and no one could agree who should win.

     Then the last witch stepped up. This witch had sat in the back, silently watching the proceedings. This witch hadn’t brought any equipment and hadn’t spoken to any of the other witches. Nobody could tell this witch’s age or race or gender and nobody was quite sure where they had come from.

     When everyone fell silent, the witch told a story. But it wasn’t just any story. It was a terrible story; a fabulous story: the greatest story any of them had ever heard. The witch spoke of murder and destruction, of money and power. When the witch was finished speaking, everyone agreed that they had won.

     “You win!” they said. “But please, call the story back! It’s too powerful. That kind of magic isn’t good for the world. It’ll get people thinking and who knows what they’ll say, what they’ll do.”

     The story couldn’t be called back, though. Once a story’s told, it’s out there.

Commentary:

This written version is, of course, quite different from the version which I told to my father, which also varies from the numerous versions I have told inside my head over the past week. I spent most of the week playing around with the story inside of my head, trying to knot out the details and grow confident in it. I found telling the story quite challenging as I’m used to writing stories, memorizing them, and telling them verbatim, not traditional storytelling. I knew the story well (and was able to write it quite easily), but telling it aloud was quite challenging and I found myself pausing quite a bit, trying to remember what I wanted to say next and/or how to say it. I often tell stories several times inside my head before writing them down, but I never reach a point in which I can tell them fluidly until they have been written and memorized. In writing, pauses to think feel normal; however, oratory doesn’t allow such pauses and I have come to realize that I am unskilled in storytelling. Of course, telling stories in the moment and with the right inspiration is much more natural than telling them in a contrived situation due to a university assignment. I tell stories all the time, just not of this sort.

© 2015 Heather Josephine Pue