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    The Blue Book of Tales
    The Blue Book of Tales
    The Blue Book of Tales
    Ebook79 pages1 hour

    The Blue Book of Tales

    By J. A. Sommer

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    About this ebook

    Throughout his career, scholar and professor Zao Cadmus did extensive research on international mythology, ethnic fairy tales, and folklore. The primary collection of his work, An Anthology of Fairy Tales from Around the World, includes such classics as "Chang and the Dragons," "The Swan Princesses," and "The White Buffalo." Later in hi

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBandersnatch Books
    Release dateJul 19, 2022
    ISBN9798985315196
    The Blue Book of Tales

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      Book preview

      The Blue Book of Tales - J. A. Sommer

      cover.jpg

      Just in case you were wondering, this book is a work of fiction. People can’t really transform, and animals can’t really talk. (Or can they?) References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used to advance the fictional narrative. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, have conflaggerated from a pocket of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

      The Blue Book of Tales

      Copyright © 2022 by J. A. Sommer

      Cover design and ornamental inserts: John D. Neiner

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Violators of this copyright may be horsified, or worse. 

      Printed in the United States of America

      For information, address Bandersnatch Books:

      P.O. Box 2473

      Indian Trail, NC 28079

      bandersnatchbooks.com

      [email protected]

      803.610.1223

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2022940427

      Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9853151-8-9

      Ebook ISBN: 979-8-9853151-9-6

      dedication

      To the storytellers in my life,

      but especially my Grannie.

      acknowledgment

      The Blue Book of Tales was published as a result of the support of two hundred and ninety-eight backers of the Zao’s Tales Kickstarter project. Without their help, we would not have been able to make the book we dreamed of, and we’re grateful. Thank you.

      —J. A. Sommer, John D. Neiner, and the Bandies

      tale 1

      A Laddie Meets a Fairy

      Once there was a boy that lived on the moor, and his name was Angus. He was the seventh son of a seventh son, and unlike his older brothers, who were full of duty and pluck, Angus was not. Angus’s mother had faced each new birth with bravery. She was a proper clanswoman, after all, but though she and her husband greeted Angus’ birth with joy from his earliest days, their youngest son always managed to get lost in the lot of them. He always escaped the training he needed most. If there was a goat or sheep to be milked, someone else was a-doin’ it because Angus made sure that he was nowhere to be found. If the cows had to be brought home, then he was hiding in the hayrick. If the peat for the fire needed to be collected, he was always wandering off along the moor, or if he was caught before he got away, he managed a way to fall into the edge of the bogs, just enough to soak his clothes. He kent his mother’s fears well enough to use them. She would say, He’ll drown. The lad has no sense. Bring him home! He could also pit one brother against another and manage to stay clear of trouble and the thrashing he so desperately needed. So, as he grew, he become craftier and craftier and as fond of playing tricks as the pixies themselves.

      Then upon his tenth year, when his poor mother was beginning to think all was lost, Angus met his match. It was like this: the family would spend the morning completing their chores, then quickly prepare themselves for the Mid-Summer’s Feast. It was held in the village, like always. Angus should have kent something was coming, for the morning started badly for him, at least as far as his thinking went. Angus had tried to sneak away before the sun was up, but when he made the effort to slip out of bed (the one he shared with three of his older brothers), ol’ Duff, the deerhound, opened his eyes. What could he do? It was as if he kent it was a special day. The dog was very old, but he still heard for all that. Ol’ Duff started up from his spot beside the fireplace and ran over with his tail wagging. Angus tried to calm ’im, but the more he tried, the more excited the dog became. Before he put on his belt, the dog was jumping on him and licking his face. He couldn’t help himself. The dog’s tongue made him laugh. Ol’ Duff always acted like a pup again on special days.

      Angus’s laughter woke up the whole clan. The next thing Angus kent, he found himself helping his mother stir the oats. After eating a hasty breakfast, Angus thought he might slip away, but before he could get out the door, his father entered. Dougal was not a hard man, but when he put his mind to it, he was as immovable as the high mountains. He put his large fists on his hips, blocked the entire doorway, and looked down on his last son. Angus kent something was up.

      You’re goin’ to bathe, Angus, and there’ll be no sneakin’ around it today, me laddie.

      Before Angus could try to think of an excuse, his oldest brothers, Fergus and Lucas, had grabbed him up by the hands and legs and were dragging him off to the river. His mother followed along with a smile, the soap, and his clean clothes. As they neared the river, Angus fought like a wild tomcat, but though he tried his best to bite and kick his older brothers, he could not free himself. At the river’s bank, they threw him head over tail into the water. When he finally came to the surface, they were beside ’im to make sure he used soap. Before mid-morning, the whole lot of boys stood before their father arranged by age and height, each one in his finest tartan, his broad belt, his best shoes, his flame-red hair clean and combed but curling as it dried. Even Angus, after his dunking and scrubbing, looked fine.

      Well, ye all sure are a lot of fine lads, exclaimed their proud father. Let’s off to the feast, shall we? And Angus, remember, no trouble this time.

      The faces of his six brothers looked down on Angus sternly, but he just looked up at them like one of the innocent angels painted on the windows of the village church. Without another word, the family left the cottage and were on their way. Most of the boys felt the joy of

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