Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby LordNelson » Fri Jan 16, 2015 3:04 am

Beware the Fruit Too High

As the sun rose into the sky and night melted away Nanabozho sat on the hilltop looking at the village below. It had been several years since he had last visited. He had many villages to visit and far to travel. Even though it had been a while the people of the Algonquian tribe would remember him. Nanabozho the trickster is not easily forgotten.

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Had he been in his human form they would have seen him there and been wary of his presence. As a shape shifter he could transform into a rabbit and conceal himself. He sat contentedly chewing a blade of grass knowing that should someone see him he was beyond suspicion in this form.

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The many tribes of the Anishinaabe nation feared Nanabozho. His tricks could be fun and amusing but there were times they were tragic and even fatal. Nanabozho liked to take advantage of the greed of humans to teach them lessons. He would tempt them with things forbidden and if they failed to respect the taboo there would be consequences.

From his tricks fables were created and handed from tribe to tribe and generation to generation. The lessons learned would be passed on so that the people of the Anishinaabe would become better. He watched as they went about their daily routine; hunting, fishing and gathering. Thanks to the plentiful bounty created by his brother and sister spirits the world was a good place full of food for all.

That gave him an idea for his next trick. He raced off into the woods as they ate their morning meal. He searched for a suitable plant for his scheme and soon saw a vine clinging to the rough bark of a tree. The vine had reddish colored leaves which made it quite obvious. He needed a plant the people would notice.

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The fruits of the vine were purple berries that were small and did not look very appetizing. He returned to the spirit world in the clouds and called upon his brother. Bapakiwis is the spirit of all that grows. ‘What do you want of me’ he asked Nanabozho ‘I am very busy.’

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‘I am here to ask that you provide for your people’ he replied. ‘It is autumn and times are harsh. The fruits and berries of spring and summer are almost gone. The women who gather have nearly empty baskets. Can you not create something new for them?’

‘You know that even at this time of year I have much to do’ Bapakiwis said. ‘I must paint the leaves of the trees in all the beautiful colors of the autumn. Then I must guide them gently to the forest floor to rest until spring when they can become nourishment for next year’s leaves. I understand your request but can it not wait until next year?’

‘Brother, you have many responsibilities to fulfill. Rather than trouble you with this why not grant me the powers to do it myself? Let me help our people.’

Bapakiwis knew that there was always a hidden meaning to the words of Nanabozho. He knew that all was not as it seemed. He also knew that his brother had boundless patience and would pester him to no end until he got his way. Grudgingly he took hold of Nanbohzo’s hands and passed to him the power to change a plant.

‘This will only work once’ he warned him ‘so make sure all is as you want it before you say the words to make it permanent.’ Nanabozho thanked his brother and returned to the forest.

With a wave of his hand the small hard berries of the vine grew larger and more succulent. They looked quite delicious. Another wave and the lower berries withered and fell away leaving only the ones up high on the vine. A third wave completed his task and he then said the enchanted words to make it forever.

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He transformed into a bird and flew into the top of the tree to wait.

In the village the morning meal was eaten and each of the tribe began to ready for their appointed tasks. The men and older boys gathered their spears and bows and arrows for the hunt. If the spirits favored them they would return with a deer or a moose. The women and older girls picked up their baskets to begin foraging in the woods for anything edible.

Amid the collectors was Shawna. There were perhaps a dozen young maidens in the village but none like her. Among her dark haired, dark eyed, dark skinned friends she stood out in her differences. Two generations ago one of her ancestors had bred outside the tribe with a person of Irish origin. The offspring produced showed no signs of mixed parentage and were native in every way. The effect of the union had not shown itself until Shawna was born.

From the moment she emerged into the world her tribe regarded her as something special. Her skin was lighter than normal. Across her face was a smattering of faint freckles; something unheard of among native peoples. Her pale blue eyes on their own would have been enough to make her unique but with her red hair there was none other like her.

There were times and there are places where such features would be seen as an abomination. The child would be abandoned or worse. In Shawna's tribe it was seen as an omen, that for her there was a special destiny. Today their beliefs would come true. She picked up her basket and strolled off into the woods to seek out the last of autumn’s harvest.

Before long she came upon a tree which had a vine growing up its rough bark. Up high among the reddish colored leaves were some purple berries. She went closer. They looked tasty. She reached up but they were too high. Nanabozho called down to her.

‘Those berries are not for you. The birds and animals of the forest need them if they are to survive the long cold winter. Please don’t pick them.’ He plucked one off with his beak, swallowed it and flew away.

Shawna knew that no ordinary bird could speak. This bird was as one with the spirits and as such should be respected. But the berries looked good. “The forest must be full of berries” she reasoned. “Taking just a few would not bring any harm.”

She looked about and saw a large rock. She rolled it over to the base of the tree and stood upon it. She reached up as far as she could and was still too short. She hugged the tree with one arm and stood on the tips of her toes. Her fingertips just touched the berries. Then something strange and unexpected happened.

One of the tough tendrils that wove into the coarse bark to anchor the vine moved. It wrapped around her wrist. She pulled at it but could not free herself. She reached up with the other hand to try to free the first and a second tendril took hold of it also. Once may be chance but twice was deliberate. Somehow the vine was intentionally holding her there.

She could feel more tendrils wrapping around her outstretched arms and her legs. Then she felt the rock wobble. She looked down. The roots of the vine were breaking through the surface and pushing the rock away. It rolled out from under her feet leaving her hanging bound to the tree.

“I have angered the spirits” she thought “I tried to take food from the animals and I am being punished. I am to become their next meal.” As the day darkened towards evening she was resigned to her fate. A wolf or bear would come along first. Then the raccoons and skunks would get their share of the scraps that were left. By morning the birds and squirrels would be quarreling over what little remained. The last tiny remnants would be claimed by insects or return to the earth from whence they came.

With the sun low on the horizon the men returned from the hunt. The women were concerned that Shawna had yet to return. The young braves, all desiring to be a hero in her eyes, set out to search before the light was gone completely.

Sakima was the one who found her and cut her down. They returned to the village and she told her tale. A new legend was born and the fable of Shawna and the Vine became a cautionary tale to warn of greed and to respect the other creatures with which the Anishinaabe share the world. Over the years such tales have changed with retelling as their origin meaning becomes less significant.

The story still continues today though it has evolved into Sakima and Shawna; the tale of a heroic young brave who rescues the beautiful maiden from the enchanted trap set by a mischievous spirit. Every autumn across the Anishinaabe nations young girls use red berries to dye their hair and become Shawna. The young boys wear a cloak of feathers to become the shape shifter Nanabozho. Using ropes fashioned from vines they tie the girls to trees.

The boys then fly off into the woods, shed their cloak and return as the heroic Sakima to rescue their damsel. Nanabozho looks down from the spirit world of the clouds and laughs at their game. The lesson he taught is long forgotten but his effect is still felt. With the third wave of his hand he had made the berries nutritious to birds and animals but poisonous to people as a reminder of their greed and disrespect.
Last edited by LordNelson on Sat Apr 11, 2015 10:24 am, edited 2 times in total.

Re: Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby viking » Fri Jan 16, 2015 4:03 am

this story is Genius!
i applaud your creativity cheers
Once a scout, always a perverted pyromaniac with a fetish for knives and duct tape

Re: Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby abductionfan » Fri Jan 16, 2015 11:38 am

Very good story, i like it,and hope there will be more to come.

Re: Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby LordNelson » Fri Jan 16, 2015 4:02 pm

Thank you Viking for your kind comments. It was your story about the trolls of your homeland that inspired me to look at the beliefs of the Natives here in Canada to find the possibility of creating a TUG related legend.

Re: Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby LordNelson » Fri Jan 16, 2015 4:05 pm

Thanks abduction fan, it's always nice to know that someone is reading my stories and liking them. I enjoyed doing the research that it took to write this. Since I like reading all sorts of mythology I am going to look through some of my books and try to find the inspiration to write another tale.

Re: Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby abductionfan » Fri Jan 16, 2015 5:34 pm

I look forward to reading more from you

Re: Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby Mister Mistoffelees » Mon Jan 19, 2015 3:58 am

Remarkable! The native-myth tone was entertaining, and you held it throughout. Very unique!... :big:
Welcome to Snowden! Enter at your own risk...

Re: Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby Headmistress » Mon Jan 19, 2015 5:07 am

Good story - very creative.

I especially liked the illustrations through the story.

Re: Beware the Fruit Too High M/F

Postby LordNelson » Wed Jan 21, 2015 9:46 pm

Thank you Mister Mistoffelees for your words of praise. Coming from an accomplished author such as yourself it is an honor...

...and more kind words from another prolific writer, I thank you Headmistress.