Fierce, Fearless and Free Page 4

  Beside the ogre’s garden was a little house, with a window overlooking the herbs and flowers. Inside the house lived a woman who was expecting her first baby. She sat at the window every day, looking down at the gorgeous garden. Like many pregnant women, she had a craving: a desire for one particular thing to eat. A desire so strong that she could think of nothing else.

  She didn’t crave cherries or apples or pears. She craved the dark green leaves of the parsley growing under her window.

  Her craving was stronger than her common sense, so one day, when the ogre went to the village market, the pregnant woman clambered out of her window into the garden. She snipped a sprig of parsley and chewed it.

  It tasted amazing! The best parsley she’d ever eaten!

  Every day, when the ogre stomped off to market with her basket, the woman clambered out and nibbled just one tiny sprig of parsley, then climbed back into her own little house.

  One evening, the ogre decided to make parsley sauce. When she reached the bed of rich brown earth where she grew her crop of parsley, she saw that half the stalks had been cut short and half the leaves were gone.

  The next day, instead of going to market, the ogre crouched down and hid behind the fruit trees, waiting to see who was stealing her herbs. The ogre watched the pregnant woman climb out of the window into the garden and cut her precious parsley.

  ‘THIEF!’ The ogre leaped out and grabbed the woman’s thin white arm in her thick green fingers.

  The pregnant woman wept. ‘I’m just nibbling one tiny sprig a day, because my baby needs the parsley!’

  ‘I needed that parsley for my sauce,’ boomed the ogre. ‘By stealing one sprig a day, you’ve destroyed my crop. If I can’t have parsley sauce, maybe I should have neighbour soup. I could boil you up in my soup pot, then use your bones to fertilise my garden.’

  The woman wailed. ‘Please don’t eat me! I’ll give you anything you want, if you let me go…’

  The ogre smiled. ‘If you promise to give me that baby in your belly, when it’s old enough not to need milk and nappies, then I’ll let you go.’

  The woman promised that the ogre could have her child, rather than her life, then left the garden. She never went back, because her craving for parsley wasn’t as strong as her fear of the ogre’s soup pot.

  A few months later, the woman gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, with a full head of glossy rich brown hair and a birthmark in the shape of a parsley leaf on her shoulder. She called the baby Petrosinella.

  The baby grew strong and happy, her hair growing even faster than the rest of her.

  Soon it was time for little Petrosinella to go to school.

  Every day, when she skipped to school, she passed the ogre’s garden gate. Every day, when she skipped home, the ogre would say loudly, ‘Dear little girl, tell your mother to remember her promise.’

  So little Petrosinella would say, ‘Mummy! The big green lady next door says to remember your promise!’

  Her mother would wipe her eyes and blow her nose, but she never told Petrosinella what the promise was.

  One day, the ogre boomed, ‘Dear little girl, tell your mother she must keep her promise tomorrow!’

  Petrosinella skipped indoors. ‘Mummy! The big green lady next door says the promise is tomorrow!’

  Her mother burst into tears. Then she put her hand on Petrosinella’s forehead. ‘I think you have a fever. You can’t go to school tomorrow, you’ll have to stay safely at home.’

  The next day, Petrosinella stayed in bed.

  The ogre next door watched out for the little girl going to school. When Petrosinella didn’t skip past the garden gate, the ogre punched her green fist through the bedroom window and grabbed the little girl.

  The ogre stuck Petrosinella under her arm and marched out of the village, with the little girl’s long hair trailing on the ground behind them.

  The ogre took Petrosinella to a tower she’d built in the dark forest: a tall tower with one wide window at the top and one half-finished doorway at the bottom. The ogre squeezed through the doorway, carried Petrosinella up the stairs and sat her on a soft feathery bed in the room at the top of the tower.

  ‘Your mother made a foolish promise,’ said the ogre, ‘so this is your home now.’

  The ogre stomped back down the stairs, stepped out of the tower and bricked up the doorway.

  Now the tower had only one window, and no door at all.

  Petrosinella was trapped inside.

  She grew up in that tower. She grew taller, her hair grew even longer and she grew more beautiful every day, like the spring flowers in the ogre’s garden.

  The ogre loved watching Petrosinella bloom into her perfect beauty.

  The ogre tried to be kind. She brought tasty food, interesting books and pretty fabric for Petrosinella.

  Every evening, the ogre climbed into the tower using Petrosinella’s long plaited hair, which Petrosinella wrapped round a hook to take the weight.

  Every evening, the ogre stitched new clothes for Petrosinella, cooked her supper, told her tales of the witches who lived in the forest, chatted about what was growing in the garden that week and said that none of the flowers in the garden were as beautiful as the flower in the tower.

  Every night, before returning to her garden, the ogre sang Petrosinella to sleep.

  The ogre was kind, except for one thing: she refused to let Petrosinella leave the tower.

  Petrosinella was determined not to spend the rest of her life in the tower. Every day she tried to escape.

  She ran down the winding stairs and tried to find a way out at the base of the tower. But the walls were solid. She ran back up to her room and tried to escape through the window. But the shutters, which were open wide when the ogre climbed in and out, slammed shut every time Petrosinella put her foot on the sill.

  There was no way out.

  She was trapped.

  Even so, she kept trying to escape.

  One day, a young prince rode into the forest to hunt. He found the tower with no door and called up, ‘Is anyone in there?’

  Petrosinella called down, ‘Yes! I’ve been here for ten years and I can’t get out!’

  ‘If you let down that long shiny hair, I’ll climb up and keep you company in your prison!’

  ‘It’s not company I need,’ said Petrosinella. ‘It’s a way out!’

  The prince walked round the base of the tower, hunting for a hidden door or a loose stone. Eventually he called up, ‘I can’t find a way in, but I promise I’ll keep trying!’

  The prince kept his promise. Every day he returned, with a hammer, a chisel or a crowbar. Every day he tried to break into the tower. Every day he failed. But every day he told Petrosinella stories about the world outside the forest, the world she knew she’d never see unless she escaped from the tower.

  Their conversations were loud and cheerful, so Petrosinella always asked the prince to leave long before the ogre visited each evening.

  Despite her caution, someone overheard them. A woman who lived nearby, in a little house smelling of vanilla and ginger, heard the prince’s deep voice, the girl’s light voice and their laughter. She crept closer and listened to them chat about the world outside the forest.

  This nosy neighbour had always wanted to bake with the fruit from the ogre’s garden, so she decided to tell the ogre what she’d heard. She waited in the shadows at the bottom of the tower until the ogre arrived. The nosy neighbour sidled up to the ogre and whispered, ‘Your girl in the tower is talking to boys…’

  The nosy neighbour told the ogre about the prince, the tools and the conversations. Then she asked, ‘Are you worried that your pretty flower might escape?’

  ‘No,’ boomed the ogre. ‘The tower is enchanted to prevent Petrosinella escaping and the magic is anchored to three acorns hidden inside. She can’t escape, unless she takes all three acorns with her. So I’m not worried. But it was neighbourly of you to tell me. Would you like a gift from my garden, a
s thanks?’

  The nosy neighbour grinned. ‘I’d love some cherries, to bake cherry pie.’

  The ogre nodded, then climbed up Petrosinella’s hair.

  While they ate supper, the ogre and the girl chatted. The ogre didn’t mention the prince, because she knew Petrosinella could never leave the tower. Petrosinella didn’t mention that she’d heard every word the ogre had said at the bottom of the tower…

  Next day, Petrosinella let down her hair for the prince for the first time. ‘Climb up and help me look for three magic acorns.’

  Petrosinella found the first acorn, hidden in a knothole in a wooden floorboard. The prince found the second acorn, balanced on a rafter in the roof.

  But no matter where they searched – on the shelves, in the wardrobe, under the mattress – they couldn’t find the third acorn. Petrosinella tried to leave with two acorns in her pocket, but the window slammed shut as usual.

  She was still trapped.

  Without the third acorn, she would never be free.

  Petrosinella had ripped her sleeve, crawling about looking for acorns. She didn’t want the ogre to guess what she’d been doing, so she opened the ogre’s sewing box, to stitch up her sleeve.

  She heard something rattle in the bottom of the box. She tipped it upside down, and all the needles and pins and reels of thread fell out. The ogre’s big thimble rattled loudly as it hit the floor. Petrosinella shook the thimble and out rolled the third acorn.

  She dropped it into her pocket, beside the other two acorns.

  Petrosinella grinned. ‘I can escape, at last!’

  ‘How will you climb down?’ asked the prince. ‘Everyone else uses your hair. Perhaps you should cut off your plait and tie it to the hook?’

  ‘There’s no need to cut off my hair.’ Petrosinella sorted through the messy contents of the sewing box on the floor and knotted a ladder from the thread.

  Petrosinella and the prince climbed out of the tower and down the ladder.

  From the shadow of the trees, the nosy neighbour watched.

  She wanted to bake apple crumble with apples from the wonderful garden, so she ran to the village market, found the tallest greenest customer, reached up high and tugged on the ogre’s sleeve.

  ‘She’s escaped! Your girl in the tower climbed down with that boy and they’re getting away!’

  The ogre ran out of the market, still carrying her basket. She sprinted to the tower, roared her anger at the ladder dangling from the window, then followed the trail of footprints.

  The ogre chased after Petrosinella and the prince as they ran through the forest. She had long legs and clawed feet and she ran twice as fast as the girl and the prince.

  ‘When I catch you, Petrosinella,’ shouted the ogre, ‘I’ll lock you in a smaller room in a taller tower and watch you fade away, like flowers always fade. When I catch your prince, I’ll throw him in my soup pot!’

  The prince turned pale, but Petrosinella said, ‘Don’t worry, she won’t catch us.’

  Petrosinella took the acorns from her pocket and spoke to them. ‘Dearest acorns, powerful acorns, enchanted acorns, your lovely strong magic has been trapped in that tower for years, just like me. Please help me escape from the monster who trapped us all.’

  Petrosinella threw the first acorn over her shoulder. It tumbled through the air and hit the ground behind her. The acorn bounced and rolled, and when it stopped, it turned into a big brown bear.

  The bear snarled and clawed at the ogre, blocking her path.

  The ogre put her hand in her basket, pulled out a spicy sausage she’d bought at market and threw it towards the bear.

  The bear chewed at the sausage, and while it was distracted, the ogre ran past.

  ‘When I catch you, Petrosinella,’ she yelled, ‘I’ll shut you in a tower and watch you fade, then I’ll eat your prince.’

  The prince gasped, but Petrosinella said, ‘Don’t worry, she won’t catch us.’

  Petrosinella threw the second acorn over her shoulder. It tumbled through the air and hit the ground behind her. The acorn bounced and rolled, and when it stopped, it turned into a huge golden lion.

  The lion roared and bit at the ogre, blocking her path.

  The ogre grinned. She knew how to get past this lion. She put her hand in her basket, pulled out a thick slice of ham and threw it towards the lion.

  The lion ripped at the ham, and while it was distracted, the ogre ran past.

  ‘When I catch you, Petrosinella,’ she shouted, ‘I’ll brick you up in the coldest darkest tower I can build, and I’ll grind your prince’s bones into my parsley bed.’

  The prince’s feet faltered, but Petrosinella said, ‘Don’t worry, she won’t catch us.’

  Petrosinella threw the third acorn over her shoulder. It tumbled through the air and hit the ground behind her. The acorn bounced and rolled, and when it stopped, it turned into a giant grey wolf.

  The wolf howled and growled at the ogre, looming over her, blocking her path.

  The ogre grinned. She knew how to get past this giant wolf. She put her hand in her basket, pulled out a loaf of bread and threw it towards the wolf.

  The wolf sniffed at the bread, snorted and shook its head, then stepped over the loaf towards the ogre.

  And the massive grey wolf opened its gigantic fanged jaws and swallowed the ogre, in one big gulp.

  So Petrosinella and the prince stopped running through the forest and started walking.

  The prince asked Petrosinella if she’d like to walk with him to his palace.

  She smiled. ‘No, thank you. When I was trapped in that tower, I thought I’d never see the world outside the forest; now I’m free, I don’t want to stay in just one place.’

  Then the girl who grew up in a tower went off to discover the world.

  Every year, Petrosinella sent two postcards about her adventures, one to the prince in the palace by the dark forest and one to her mother in the house beside the beautiful garden.

  But each year, that untended garden became more tangled, overgrown and filled with weeds.

  FIRE AND RAIN

  MEXICAN MYTH

  Fire is our friend and fire is our enemy. Fire can provide warmth and light, fire can cook our food. Fire can also burn and kill.

  Long ago, fire was neither friend nor enemy. Long ago, fire was entirely unknown.

  Then, one day, a black rock cracked open and a tiny spark emerged. The spark perched on the edge of the crack. The next day, the spark danced in a circle on top of the rock. The day after that, the spark flew high in the air above the rock.

  The people sent a girl and a boy, who were young enough to learn new things, to find out what the spark was.

  ‘I am Fire,’ said the spark. ‘I can be your friend and I can be your enemy.’

  The boy and the girl sat by the rock and spoke to Fire, hoping to make friends with him, so he would help their people.

  Fire asked them to bring feathers to feed him and bowls to give him a safe home.

  The girl and the boy brought Fire everything he asked for. He grew from a spark into a flame, and from one flame to many flames. As he grew, Fire became hot and beautiful, bright and glorious.

  Fire asked for more to eat and burn. He asked for arrows, baskets, wax and beads. Full of all these good things, Fire became excited and wanted to eat more and more. Fire’s flames leaped high and stretched far, and Fire started to burn everything he could reach.

  The boy and the girl ran in fear from the fast and hungry flames.

  Fire burned across the earth and burned through the air. Fire burned everything he touched. Fire roared his red-hot joy at the world around.

  The people were terrified. They tried to drive Fire away. They threw wood at Fire, but he laughed and ate the wood. They threw rocks at him, but he laughed and melted the rocks.

  Then the girl realised that Fire had asked for solid things to eat, but he had never asked for liquid to drink.

  The girl shouted up to the
sky, calling the name of the great goddess. ‘Nakawé! Nakawé! Let down your hair!’

  Nakawé looked down from the clouds and saw flames rushing over the land. She took off her hairnet, freeing her black plaited hair, and a few drops of water fell to Earth.

  Fire hissed in disappointment.

  Nakawé unplaited her hair, letting it swing loose, and drizzle fell to Earth.

  Fire hissed angrily.

  Nakawé brushed her hair and rain fell in heavy drops.

  Fire began to shrink and steam.

  Nakawé bent over and shook her hair above the earth, and a storm of water hit the ground.

  Nakawé’s storm doused Fire everywhere.

  All except one tiny spark, hiding under an upturned bowl held by the boy and the girl.

  Then Fire, sad and soggy and small, said sorry to the people. Fire suggested quietly that if they built a little clay house, he could live safely and calmly inside.

  So the girl and the boy built a clay oven and put the spark inside. The spark grew into a comfortable size of fire, one that could cook and heat and light, but didn’t hurt or burn or destroy.

  Even now, fire can be your friend or fire can be your enemy. So it’s wise to be cautious around sparks and flames. And it might also be wise to remember the name of the goddess Nakawé.

  NANA MIRIAM AND THE HUNGRY HIPPO

  NIGERIAN LEGEND

  This is the story of a girl who saved her village.

  The villagers had always been wary of the hippos in the nearby River Niger. Despite their wide smiles and chubby tummies, hippos are fast and strong, with powerful jaws and bad tempers. Then, one night, the villagers saw a hippo that looked even more dangerous than ordinary hippos.

  Because this hippo had just risen out of the river wearing fire.

  This hippo was wearing an iron chain around his neck, with an iron pot dangling below his chin, and in the iron pot burned a bright red fire. The flames were burning strongly even as the hippo rose up through the water.

  The villagers decided to leave this hippo alone.

  But the hippo started to eat rice from the fields around the village.