Once, not so long ago, there was a little golden hen. She was a happy chicken, proud of her home and family. She lived in a small home in a meadow with her rooster husband and six little chicks. They spent their days searching for the tastiest seeds and the juiciest bugs, content to wake and sleep with the rising and setting of the sun. Far in the distance, the chicken family could see a road. Sometimes, big dark shapes would roar past, speeding along the road. The chicken family never wondered what these giant beasts were, or what was on the other side, so happy were they with the bounty of their meadow.
One day, the little golden hen caught scent of a wonderful smell. It was like nothing she had ever smelled before: sweet yet tart, tantalizing her senses. She began to follow the scent, and as it wafted in on the breeze, it led her farther and farther away from her little chicken family. Completely captivated, she followed the scent as it twisted and curled in the breeze, heedless of the path she took. As night began to fall, the scent became so strong, the little golden hen knew she must find it soon. Sure enough, there, just inside the trees, was a great glowing bonfire, surrounded by the sound of singing and the shadows of dancers leaping in the air. As she wandered closer to the fire, she wondered where these trees were, for she had never seen them before, but these thoughts disappeared from her mind at the sight of the great purple orbs. Growing in great clusters from green vines, they hung just out of her reach. It was from them that the tantalizing scent came.
A great jolly man leaned over, laughing, and plucked her a bunch of grapes. As she ate, the sweet taste overwhelmed her. Never had she felt happier, not even on those golden summer days in her meadow. Filled with the wild sweetness of the fruit, she joined in the dancing, leaping and flying with joyous abandon. The firelight flickered off of her golden feathers as she reveled with maenads, worshipers of Dionysus. The great jolly man, decked in vine leaves, adored the little golden hen and the way her feathers glowed in the firelight, and took special care to give her the juiciest, tastiest grapes, and the months passed. One day, though, he was absent, attending a great wine festival in the
Night fell as she trekked disconsolately through the forest, casting alarming shadows in the tangled forest. Disheartened, the little hen was about to give up; she could never find her way home. Suddenly, a young man with wings on his feet appeared. He glowed so brightly it hurt the little hen’s eyes to look at him. She knew he must be Hermes, messenger of the gods and patron of lost travelers. He beckoned for her to follow, and he said he would lead her back to the maenads and Dionysus or to her family, whichever her heart desired; for she was pure of heart and had pleased the gods. The choice was an easy one for the little hen, and she eagerly followed Hermes out of the dark forest.
The sun was just clearing the horizon when Hermes bid the little hen farewell. She was at the edge of her meadow. She could see her little house in the distance; all that stood between them was the snaky blackness of the road. Working up her courage, the little hen stepped out onto the road. Out of nowhere, a great shining monster came roaring by, almost crushing her beneath its round, rumbling feet. Scared, she jumped back. Torn by indecision, she watched as beast after beast flashed by, spewing dark smoke as they passed. As time passed, she thought she could hear a faint sound on the air. Straining her ears, she realized it was her family, cheeping and chirping and they sought the juicy bugs and plump seeds in the meadow. Finally, she could not take it any longer. The little hen jumped up on the road, closed her eyes and ran. Jumping off the road and onto the other side, she felt the wind roar by as yet another monster almost crushed her. Excited now, the little golden hen bounded home to her family, content once again to spend her days chasing bugs and digging for seeds in the meadow.
I chose Dionysus and Hermes because I needed to fill the roles of tempter and savior for the little hen. I actually do not view this story as metaphorical; instead I chose the option of demonstrating the truth through the actions of the characters. By telling this story impersonally, but giving the chicken’s viewpoint, it made it seem like a fable or fairytale. I expect readers to think the story is cute, but still get a message out of it. I chose not the include dialogue in the story to keep it from being too long, and too repetitive. If I were to expand this assignment, I would like to make it more like a children’s story, with the simple, repetitive dialogue. The most challenging part of this assignment was getting the hen across the road; I had to think of a reason for her to want to leave the revelries.
2 comments:
I thought this story was very cute. It was eloquently written, with particularly tasteful language. I like that you use the point of view of the chicken. It sets the story in an almost childlike tone because the Chicken doesn’t know what cars or grapes are. I particularly loved the line “The firelight flickered off of her golden feathers.” It paints a very pretty picture.
This story was very good, with only a few (but not glaring problems). I am not a grammar king, so I won’t try to edit your writing, as I didn’t find any mistakes that were big enough to warrant them. I found it interesting that the traditional chicken crosses the road joke somehow involved the gods. The gods in the story felt a bit misplaced. I think the grapes should have been enough to tempt. Maybe, you were going for the Persephone story, as it almost exactly mirrors it. Also, since it is from the perspective of the chickens, I don’t know why the chicken would know who the gods were. Maybe, you should elaborate on that part.
I liked how there was continuity between the first paragraph and the last. It gave a nice sense of closing to the story. However I was confused as to why the hen, who was so content with things in her meadow would be drawn away by an unknown scent. And I was wondering how the chicken got across the road in the first place, sense she had to get back across it to get home. I liked the description of Dionysus as a jolly man, although it brought to mind images of Santa Claus more than anyone else. Also the mention of the Yakima wine tasting festival felt a little out of place to me. This whole story seems like it was set in a place with a European flavor to it, so the mention of Yakima made a very yokleish jolt in the story. Also after the chicken had been in the meadow for several months I’m sure she would have figured out that the purple orbs were grapes, and since you use the term later in the paragraph you could have started calling them that when the maenads started depriving her of them. But altogether I really liked this myth, it was
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