GA Fairytale Challenge: The bag of wind
Sep. 27th, 2010 01:49 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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gackt_armyRating: PG-13
Characters: You, Chacha, Gackt (in order of appearance)
Genre: Fairytale
Warnings: mild expletives and domestic violence from that naughty Mr. You
Synopsis: would be as long as the story so read on!
Disclaimer: written entirely for fun - no profit, no intended libel (sorry, You, but somebody had to be the hate-object!)
Critique welcome: Yes but good luck (it's told for children in the voice of my dad!)
Word count: 2000
Apologies: I couldn't fit the puppies in and it's not in rhyme!
GacktJob and the Bag of Wind.
Chapter I
There was once a farmer who lived on a hill.
His name was Youf and he was known throughout the whole region as the meanest man around. No-one could persuade him to part with a penny. The only time he went to town to spend money was when he wanted a new string for his precious violin.
His wife spent her life sighing. She would really like a bright red ribbon for her long brown hair and her old pink crocs were nearly done.
“Nearly done??!” raged Youf when she mentioned it. “Nonsense, woman! You’ve at least another year’s wear in those. Nearly done indeed!” And so Chachalina went back to the kitchen and turned the mirror to the wall so that she didn’t have to see her unhappy face and her unhappy, patched, old clothes.
One night, there was a fine old storm with howling wind and battering rain and the crack of thunder somewhere nearby. Through the terrible noise, the farmer and his wife heard a-banging and a-thumping on their door. The farmer got up from the table.
“Ooh, don’t answer it!” said Chachalina. “I’m frightened. Suppose it’s ghosts?”
The pounding on the door increased in speed and strength, so much so that the hinges started to creak.
“Don’t be silly, woman! It’ll be one of the neighbours lost a roof in the wind. I’ll have to answer it or he’ll be breaking the planks in a minute.”
And the farmer seized the latch and held the door open a crack. “Who’s there?” he bellowed. “Leave off banging on my door like that, curse you!”
The rain threw a puddle onto the floor and the wind tossed over a stool.
“May I come in?” said an unfamiliar voice from outside. “I’m travelling on the road and there’s nowhere to shelter from this terrible storm.”
Youf’s eyes narrowed and he shut the door firmly. Then he yelled through it, “There’s nothing comes free in this world.”
The door was flung open violently and a gold coin spun in the air, right in front of the farmer’s eyes. There was a shriek from Chachalina as a tall figure in dark glasses, a wide-brimmed hat and a long coat came into the kitchen, dragging a large sack behind him.
Youf glared and trapped the coin under his foot as it fell to the floor. The stranger shut the door. “Better not let too much of the weather in, eh?”
The farmer put his hands on his hips and stood between the stranger and the chairs round the table. “I don’t run a hotel, you know. Storm’ll be over soon. What are your plans, mister?”
“Mister” smiled faintly and said, “Oh, I’m travelling. I’ll be moving on in a few days. Meanwhile, if you’ve a bed for hire, that would be mighty convenient.” He bowed towards Chachalina and removed his hat.
Chachalina’s sad eyes noticed that the stranger was very handsome.
Youf’s greedy eyes noticed the bulging sack, noticed the fine silver rings on the stranger’s hand and the fine silver chain round his neck, noticed the smell of expensive perfume which even the rain could not remove: this was a person of substance. The situation could work to Youf’s advantage. He waved roughly at Chachalina, “Go and get the bed ready, wife. I’ll discuss a price with our visitor.”
The stranger willingly paid the price from his small black purse and stretched out in a chair. “Just you and your wife here? It’s a lonely part of the country.”
Youf growled, “We’re too busy to be lonely. There’s the hens and the sheep and the cow to tend. There’s water to draw and the roof to mend. Besides, what’s a wife for? It’s you men on your own that have the problem with being lonely.” He gave a peculiarly unpleasant laugh as Chachalina came back into the room.
“Get our guest a bowl of something for his dinner. You can let him try that curry sauce I taught you how to make, not that you don’t always ruin it, mind.”
“You wouldn’t, I suppose,” asked the stranger wistfully, “have a spoonful of kimchi in the house?”
Chachalina shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
The stranger sighed. “Never mind, never mind.”
Chachalina couldn’t find a bowl that wasn’t cracked or chipped, for there was never any money to spend on replacing the worn-out things in the house, but the visitor didn’t seem to notice.
After he had eaten, the stranger asked to be shown to his bed. Youf eyed the sack with interest. It had “OASIS” printed on it and was very large. Youf was very curious as to what might be inside. “Carry that sack for you, will I? You must be tired, what with all the travelling.”
But the stranger replied, “Oh, it’s not heavy. No trouble at all, thank you” and retired for the night.
Chapter II
Well, things settled down over the next two or three days. The farmer and his wife would go about their business and the lodger would go out, but the sack was never left behind; the stranger always took it with him, much to the farmer’s annoyance.
“He ever tell you what’s in that huge sack, wife?” Youf began to burn with the desire to know what was inside the sack. Why did the curious traveller guard it so carefully? There must be something very valuable inside.
“No. He’s never said anything to me.” Chachalina looked at her husband. “Why don’t you ask him? He’s been here a while now. It wouldn’t be so rude to ask.”
The farmer pulled his chin. “Hmm. Maybe you’re right for once. I WILL ask him.”
So, that night, at dinner, the farmer leaned over to the traveller and said, “Don’t mind me asking but what’s in that sack that you carry everywhere. It must be full of treasure if you never let it out of your sight.”
“Oh, that old bag. My, there’s no treasure in there. Just the wind.” And he pulled the sack a bit closer to him under the table.
“Just the wind, my foot!” thought the farmer. “A likely tale. He’s got something valuable in that there sack, mark my words.” And he vowed to sneak a look if he could just get the sack on its own, but the stranger never let it out of his sight.
Frustration about the sack made Youf meaner and angrier than ever. He shouted at Chachalina and kicked the hens. He broke a chair and threw the pieces at Chachalina. He chased the sheep round the field out of rage and really – when the stranger returned – the place was in complete uproar.
The stranger looked at Chachalina who was sniffing as she switched between picking up pieces of broken chair and trying to coax the ruffled hens to eat. “Is he always like this, ma’am?”
Chachalina looked up, saw herself reflected in the black glass of the visitor’s shades and said quietly, “Yep. Pretty much.”
The stranger stood and thought for a while. His fingers played with a cross hanging round his neck, which shone with ten points of sweet diamond light. Chachalina couldn’t help staring at the shiny.
After a time, the traveller cleared his throat and announced. “I think I’ll be moving on in the morning.”
Chachalina was very disappointed. She started sniffing again. The visitor put his hand on her arm. “Do you folks really have no money at all?”
Chachalina sighed. “We have money but Youf won’t spend any. So, we HAVE money but it’s no use to us.”
The traveller unhooked the chain from his neck and dropped the cross into Chachalina’s hand. “That’s a big shame. Well, whatever happens tomorrow, ma’am, you hang onto this. It’s yours and yours alone.”
And, with that, he hitched up the sack on his shoulder and went upstairs to bed.
The farmer stayed out until late, running around chasing the animals and even then he couldn’t sleep one wink for thinking about the sack.
Chapter III
In the morning, the traveller rose and washed himself. He dressed carefully before stripping the bed and leaving the linen neatly folded by the pillow.
Downstairs, he joined the farmer and his wife at their breakfast. After the meal, the traveller said, “I’ll be moving on now. Thank you for your hospitality all this while.”
“You’re welcome,” said Chachalina, “and you’ve paid handsomely for it.”
The farmer knocked her hand aside furiously. “What would you know if the payment was handsome or not? Answer me that, trollop!”
The visitor took out his black purse and, as he had expected, the farmer’s attention diverted easily to the gold coin which the stranger laid on the table. “So long. I’ll be on my way.” He picked up the sack and turned to the door.
“Wait!”
The farmer stood up in such a hurry that his chair flipped onto its back. “Wait a minute – I – I -” he took a deep breath, “I’d like to trade with you for that sack you’re carrying.”
The traveller looked surprised. “This sack?” he said, holding it out. “But it’s just a bag of wind.”
“That doesn’t matter to me,” babbled the farmer, “now what will you take for it?”
The traveller said simply, “Well, money will do. You can buy it from me.”
Youf turned pale. “No, not money. Anything but that. What about the hens? They’re fine layers – the best in these parts.”
The traveller shook his head. “I don’t have any use for hens. You could just buy the sack if you want it that badly.”
Youf stamped his foot. “No! I already told you. Not money. Anything but that. What about the sheep? They give the best wool for miles around.”
The traveller shook his head. “I don’t have any use for sheep. You’d be better off just buying the sack if you want it that badly.”
Youf banged his fist on the table. “How many times do I have to say it?! Not money! Anything but that. What about the cow? It’s worth more than anything else on the whole damn farm!”
The stranger hesitated. The black shades turned towards Youf and his mouth opened. In the short silence, Youf nearly screamed with agitation, before the visitor said, “I don’t have any use for a cow. And if you won’t part with your money and if the cow is your most valuable possession, I’ll be moving along.”
He took a stride for the door and stretched out his hand for the latch. Then he staggered as something hit him in the back – the farmer, shaking from head to toe with rage and frustration, had seized Chachalina and thrown her bodily at the stranger.
“Damn you! If you won’t settle for the cow, then take my wife. Just give me that sack -”
The stranger put his arm round Chachalina’s waist and pulled her close. “Well, at last, you’ve offered me something I can use. If you’re sure, I’ll be taking her with me.” He kicked open the door and threw the sack across the floor.
The farmer hurled himself onto the bag and, beside himself with excitement, began to wrestle with the rope that was tied so very, very tight round the neck of the sack.
The stranger held Chachalina’s hand and they walked away from the dark, old farmhouse, over the hill to a line of trees below, where a red car was parked. The traveller paused. “Chachalina, this is
Inside the farmhouse, the rope was still giving trouble. Chachalina’s carving knife was too old and worn to make any impression on the tough fibres so Youf seized the sack and ran outside to the axe that he used for splitting logs. He grabbed the axe and swung it as hard as he could onto the neck of the sack.
Instantly, a mighty gale filled the world with wind and thrust him high – up, up! – into the air, tossing him over and over and higher and higher until he could no longer see the Earth but was spinning in the no-light of space.
Nobody. Ever. Saw him again.
And Chachalina and the mysterious, tall, dark stranger? Well, they lived happily ever after.
Of course.
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 01:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 02:27 pm (UTC)this was soooo hilarious! i feel sorry for You-san, of course, but this just had me rolling.... so well written! thanks for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 09:23 pm (UTC)Pleased you enjoyed it.
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Date: 2010-09-27 03:03 pm (UTC)Hahaha! ILU.
This was great... Chachalina *snort*
I'm glad Chachalina managed to get away from Youf thanks to our handsome and mysterious stranger. I liked the style of writing too, it was just lots of fun!
no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 09:49 pm (UTC)And it's a shame about the puppies but they'd only have got hurt. They're far safer in their Starbucks mugs.
Thanks for reading.
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Date: 2010-09-27 03:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-27 09:55 pm (UTC)Being an only child, I got a lot of morality tales from my parents in a bid to stop me turning out spoiled. I particularly like the ones warning against misunderstanding the value of money - like this one. The greedy people usually come to sticky end! Or, in this case, a windy end.
moral of the tale: beware the Gackts bearing sacks!
Glad you liked it.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 05:53 am (UTC)Oh, the doggies can have their appearance in another time ne? Oh, and I like the bit about your dad's storytelling and all...
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Date: 2010-09-28 08:13 am (UTC)I think Gackt would like the morality tale. He has a strong desire to encourage people to see the world clearly, so a story about valuing what you do have, rather than what you don't have or what other people have, might appeal to him. Especially as he gets the "girl"!
Thanks for your reading and comment.