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Untreed Reads - Nancy Springer

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10 pages

English

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Ostracized for speaking her mind and standing up against a man she doesn't wish to marry, a young girl is cast out of her village and forced to fend for herself in the mountains. When she ventures too closely to a lake and nearly drowns, she is rescued by a man from Athens who introduces himself as Herodotus. What transpires after the rescue is an education for the young girl, providing names for the things that surround her. When an encounter with a fish leads her to discover her own true name, she soon discovers the gift she can take back to her village to be accepted once again.

Sujets

Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)

Short story

Fantasy

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Publié par	Untreed Reads
Date de parution	01 janvier 0001
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781611873955
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0030€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Dreamfisher
By Nancy Springer

Copyright 2012 by Nancy Springer
Cover Copyright 2012 by Ginny Glass and Untreed Reads Publishing
The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.

Previously published in print as Perchance to Dream, February 2000.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Also by Nancy Springer and Untreed Reads Publishing
#20
Alpha Alpha Gamma
American Curls
The Boy Who Plaited Manes
The Scent of an Angel

http://www.untreedreads.com
Dreamfisher
By Nancy Springer
“…except for the inhabitants of a nameless mountain in Barbary, who themselves have no names; nor have they dreams.” (From a fragment attributed to Herodotus.)
They lived on the mountainside very simply, the men hunting meat, the women gathering nuts and berries, the children playing at being men or women. They spoke names of things, of course, to say “Bring me sticks for the fire,” or “I am going to dig roots,” but these names had come down to them through generations, bestowed by some creator at the beginning of time. Fearing to take upon themselves the function of gods, they did not name one another; they were few enough, and needed only to point. To say “that man” would have been impolite, and to say “the fat man” or “the bent old woman” would have been very rude. Children learned early only to point. They learned early to kill rock rabbits and skin them and cook them and eat them. They learned to throw stones and gather firewood.
All the children learned these straightforward ways readily, except for a certain girl.
She looked no different than the others-dark eyes and shaggy dark hair, tawny skin, bare callused feet-but wrong things came out of her mouth. “Cake!” she cried, pointing at the round russet disc of the setting sun, one edge hitting against scalloped clouds. “Cake! Someone is eating it!”
“No, no!” her mother whispered, glancing around to see whether others had heard. (They had.) “It is the sun.” Sun was sun, not a round flat cake of seed meal baked on the hot stones by the fire.
“It looks like a cake!”
The mother should have punished her then and there, the others declared. But the mother was too tenderhearted, and the girl went on in her wrongheaded ways. “It looks like a flower!” she would declare of a rose-and-white cloud. Or, “See, the shadows in the moon, they look like a rabbit sitting up on its hind legs!” But the moon was the moon, not a rabbit. “See that yellow flower, it looks like a dragon’s head!” And the wrongnesses she said grew more perilous day by day, so frightening that other children stayed away from her, or were ordered away, and adults muttered when they saw her coming.
All too soon the girl began to experience the monthly courses of a woman, and it was time for her to find a mate.
Often this process took care of itself, but not in the case of this girl. Her mother acted on her behalf, arranging matters with an older man who, although respected, had no woman, because-well, it would have been very, very rude to say, but-
“No! He looks like a bear turd on feet!” the girl wailed when her mother brought the man to her by the village spring, where everyone had gathered for the rite of joining. “No, I can’t! I won’t!”
The man’s lumpy brown face flushed even darker with anger. “Be silent,” he ordered.
“No! You are a giant turd!”
“Turd,” some boy in the back whispered, snickering.