DARK FAIRY TALES
OF FEARLESS WOMEN
"This book of fairy tales is lovely...all perfect in the way they are told. This is the kind of book you would want to read to others around a campfire/ bonfire... They are from different regions of the world, but still represent the various ways strong women stand up for themselves and others... A must-read for lovers of fairy tales and strong female protagonists!"
– Reader review on Goodreads
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The Curtains are drawn and the candles are lit; the fire's banked up to a warmth of glowing embers. Come inside, come inside to dream. Everyone is welcome! Take a seat, put aside your work, shrug off your love pangs and family worries. For grandmothers and wise women, old wives and young wanderers, have all gathered here from around the globe to share their wonderful stories.
Are you comfortable? Do you yearn for a world in which magic exists, hope wins and every woman's heart is alive with courage? Then let us begin!
CONTENTS
Welcome!
Riddles (Central Asia)
Fire Woman (Hawaii)
The Stolen Baby (Scotland)
The Flying Head (Native American)
Bandits! (India)
Destiny (Lesotho)
The Mountain of Enchantments (Iran)
The Troll (Iceland)
Revenge (Alaska)
The Dragon (China)
The Power of Stories (Arabia)
The Stone Giant (Argentina and Chile)
The Birds (Poland)
The Ghost (Nigeria)
Shining Bamboo (Japan)
Notes and Sources
'Want a bet?' said the young woman. 'All right then, you answer my riddle. Do you know what an invincible monster like you should fear most from a weak woman like me?
'Nothing,' said the ghoul disparagingly.
'Are you sure?' said the young woman. 'Well, my answer is my cunning. You obviously haven't seen enough of it yet.'
– From Riddles, Central Asia
The old woman hitched up her skirts, dodged the chief’s sled and ran straight past it, through the fumes to the mountain peak. Something unearthly was happening: she had become as hazy as the smoke itself, shifting, fading, reshaping ...
Thunder crackled. The top of the mountain tore right open. A stream of blood-coloured molten lava gushed out. ‘Aieee!’ An ear-splitting, eerie screech rent the air. The feeble crone was gone ... yet she was still there. For she had transformed into her true self, become what she really was: Pele, sacred goddess of volcanic fire – and she was pursuing Kahawali!
Flames darted from her eyes. Black, choking smoke swirled in her hair.
– From Fire Woman, Hawaii
After that, the ghost no longer tried to get rid of her. All through the horrible, hazardous places that he had warned of, she kept staunchly on his trail, until at last they reached his own country – which was the Land of the Dead. There at last the ghost stopped.
‘Well, well, well,’ he said, ‘I’ve never met any living being as obstinate as you. No doubt our long journey has made you hungry, eh? Well, I’ll take pity on you. We’ve been travelling for so long that this palm oil you sold me has gone stale. So make me a nice fresh batch of it, girl; and when you’ve finished, I’ll let you eat the stringy bits left over from the nuts.’
‘I’m not eating the nasty, stringy bits,’ protested the girl. ‘You eat them.’
– From The Ghost, Nigeria
On the third day, cowering in the midst of yet another freak storm, the fisherman promised his youngest daughter, Helga, to the troll. That night, after supper, he sent her out into the rain to fetch his oiled sea clothes, which he had deliberately left outside.
Now, Helga was shrewder and more valiant than her older sisters. She had already guessed that some terrible danger was afoot and had steeled herself to deal with it. She was not surprised to find the troll lurking out there. When he demanded a kiss, she stood on tiptoe and gave him a chaste peck on his repulsive cheek, to butter him up. As a result, he didn’t carry her away screaming and kicking, but took her hand in his own enormous paw, and led her, quite gently, over the hills to his cave in Gloom Valley where he ordered her to work as his servant.
– From The Troll, Iceland
