by Kim So-Un
"My, you children looked after the house well, didn't you?" the tiger said. "As a reward, Mother will cook a nice dinner for you." The tiger went into the kitchen, his eyes shining with greed.
The three girls stood huddled in a corner, quivering with fear. "What shall we do? What shall we do? We shall soon be eaten up by the tiger."
The three girls quickly ran out of the house. Then tiptoeing softly away, they quickly climbed up a pine tree growing near the well. There they hid quietly in the branches.
The tiger soon noticed that the girls were no longer in the house. "Haisuni, Talsuni, Peolsuni," he called, "where are you?"
And the bad tiger looked here and there, inside and outside the house, everywhere, but nowhere were the girls to be seen. The tiger passed the well and happened to glance in. There he saw in the water the reflection of the three girls hiding in the branches of the pine tree.
"My, children!" the tiger said. "What are you doing up there? I want to come up too, but it looks difficult. Tell Mother how to climb the tree.
At this, Haisuni called down: "There's some sesame oil in the kitchen cupboad. Rub some of the oil on the trunk of the tree. Then you can easily climb up."
Quickly, the tiger went into the house, got the oil, and rubbed it on the trunk of the tree. Then he tried to climb, but the oil made him slip all the more, and try as he might, he could not reach the girls.
Once again, the tiger looked up into the tree and said: "Be good children, dears, and tell me truly how to climb the tree."
Talsuni, the second daughter, unthinkingly let her tongue slip and said: "There's an ax in the shed. If you cut some notches in the tree trunk, then you can climb up."
Quickly, the tiger went for the ax and began cutting footholds with it. One step at a time, he climbed up and up toward the girls.
The three sisters were desparate. They were sure they would be eaten up. They raised their eyes toward the sky and prayed to the God of Heaven. "Please help us, God. Please send down your golden well bucket," they prayed.
Their prayers were answered, and from the top of a cloud down came a golden well bucket. The three sisters climbed into the bucket and were snatched up, out of the teeth of danger, into the clouds.
When the tiger saw this, he too prayed: "Please send down a well bucket for me also."
Once again, a well bucket came down from the clouds. But, this time, the rope of the bucket was old and rotten. The tiger, nevertheless, climbed trustingly into the bucket, and it started rising. But when he was half way up to the cloud, the rope suddenly broke, and the tiger came crashing to earth, right in the middle of a millet field.
That is why the root tops of millet are mottled to this day. The reddish spots are from the blood of the tiger which splattered all over the millet field.
On the other hand, the three sisters who climbed to Heaven were each given a special task. Haisuni was made to shine in the sky during the day. Talsuni was made to shine at night. And Peolsuni was to twinkle on nights when Talsuni slept or was on her way from the sky to rest. That is why the sun is called Haisuni, the moon Talsuni, and the stars Peolsuni. To this very day, the three sisters keep at their tasks, taking their turns at brightening the whole world with their light.
16 The Blind Mouse
ONCE there was a very selfish girl. This girl was completely spoiled. Never in her life had she ever said yes to anything. If something displeased her, even in the slightest, she would fuss and fume and fret and make her parents miserable. At the same time, she had to have her own way about everything. She would never listen to others and always wanted her own wishes granted right away.
No matter how often her mother and father told her how bad she was, it did not seem to have any effect. She was always the same spoiled girl.
"What will ever happen to this child of ours?" This was all her parents ever worried about.
One day this little girl was sitting all by herself in her room, when a small mouse came scampering out of its hole.
"My, how horrible!" she cried in surprise. But, because the mouse was so small and cute, she did not feel afraid. She sat perfectly still and waited to see what would happen.
The little mouse ran here and there around the room in search of something. In one corner of the room a few grains of rice had been spilt. When the mouse found the rice, strangely enough, it did not gobble the rice up, but instead hurried back into its hole.
In a little while, out it came again. This time it was not alone. Out followed a larger mouse. It was the mother mouse.
The little mouse led the mother mouse to the grains of spilt rice. The mother mouse sniffed around with her nose and found the rice grains.
"Squeak, squeak," the mother mouse cried in delight. Then she hungrily gobbled up the rice grains.
You see, the mother mouse was blind. And because she could not see anything, she could not find food for herself without help. So the little mouse always searched out food for the mother mouse.
Presently there was the sound of footsteps outside.
The little mouse cried: "Squeak, squeak, Mother I We must hurry home." Then, it led its mother back into their hole, guarding her all the while with care.
The spoiled girl had been watching this from beginning to end. Now she became thoroughly ashamed of herself. "Why even a little mouse loves and cares for its mother like that. What a bad girl I have been," she told herself.
After that, she changed so completely that everybody thought she was different girl, and all the people praised her for being a good child. She never told anyone about the little mouse and its blind mother.
17 The Deer and the Woodcutter
LONG, long ago, at the foot of the Kumgang Mountains, there lived a poor woodcutter. He lived alone with his mother, for he had not yet married. Every day he would go into the mountains to cut wood, for that was his job.
One fine autumn day, when the red maple trees flamed everywhere, the woodcutter went as usual to chop wood in the forest. Soon he was hard at his work, for he was an earnest worker. But suddenly a stately deer came running out of the forest. He was panting and seemed almost on the point of falling with exhaustion.
"Save me, please!" the deer cried, "a hunter is chasing me." And he looked back in fear, as if expecting the hunter to come out of the woods at any moment.
The woodcutter felt sorry for the deer and said: "Here, I'll help you. Quick, hide under these branches."
So saying, the woodcutter covered the deer with a small tree he had just felled. No sooner had this been done than a hunter appeared, carrying a gun.
"Say!" the hunter said. "Didn't a deer come running this way?"
"Yes," the woodcutter answered with a straight face, "but he kept on going that way."
The hunter quickly ran in the direction the woodcutter had pointed.
After the hunter was gone, the deer, who had kept still as death till now, came out. "Thank you very much," he said. "You saved me from great danger. I shall never forget you kindness." The deer thanked the woodcutter many, many times and then disappeared into the forest.
Some days later the deer came again to where the woodcutter was working and said: "I have come today to repay you for saving my life. Do you not wish to have a beautiful wife?"
The woodcutter blushed. "Of course, I want a bride. But who would want to marry such a poor man as I?"
"Don't say that. Just listen to me. If you do as I say, you will be able to get a good wife this very day. All you have to do is..." Then the deer put his mouth to the woodcutter's ears and began whispering: "If you cross that divide and go straight on, you will come to a large pond. Often beautiful fairies come down from Heaven to bathe in that pool. They are sure to be there today. If you start out now, you will be able to see them. When you get there, take just one of the robes which the fairies have hung on the trees while they bathe, and hide it carefully. Remember, take only one. Their robes are made of very fine feathers, and without them the fairies cannot fly back to Heaven. Thus there w
ill be one fairy who will be left without her robe. Take that fairy home, and she will become your bride. Do you understand? Remember, take only one robe. You will surely succeed, so leave right away."
The woodcutter listened carefully, but it seemed like a dream story, and he looked as if he could not believe the deer's story.
But the deer said: "Don't worry. Do just as you are told."
At this, the woodcutter decided to give it a try. "Then I shall go and see," he said.
As he started out, the deer called him back and said: "Oh, there is one more thing. After the fairy has become your bride, you must be very careful until she has borne you four children. No matter how she may ask, you must never bring out her robe of feathers nor show it to her. If you do, there will be great trouble."
The woodcutter climbed straight up the path the deer had shown him. He crossed the mountain divide and, sure enough, presently he came to a large pond. And in the pond, he saw a number of fairies bathing, as beautiful as those painted in pictures. Hanging on the trees were many, many shining robes of feathers, as light and thin as gossamer.
"So these are the robes of feathers the deer spoke about," thought the woodcutter. Quietly, he took one from a tree and folded it over and over. So fine was the robe that it folded thin into the thickness of a single sheet of paper. The woodcutter then carefully hid the robe in his breast pocket. Then he sat down in the shade of a nearby tree and watched the fairies from a distance.
Soon the fairies finished their bathing and came up from the pond to put on their robes. Everyone had a robe to wear, all except one fairy. Her robe was missing. She looked all over, but it was not to be found. The other fairies were worried, and they too joined in the search. They looked high and low, but the robe was nowhere.
After a long while, the sun began to set, and the fairies said: "We can't keep looking forever. If it becomes too late, the gates of Heaven will be closed. We will have to leave you here alone, but when we get back to Heaven we shall talk with the others and try to do something to help you." Then they spread out the hems of their robes and flew up into the sky, leaving the one poor fairy all by herself beside the pond.
Thus the fairy who had no feathered robe was finally taken home by the poor woodcutter and became his bride.
The two were very happy, and the woodcutter counted himself very fortunate. Once the fairy had become the woodcutter's wife, she seemed to forget all about returning to Heaven, and she worked earnestly in her new home. She cared faithfully for her mother-in-law and for her husband. Then one, two, three children were born to them, and she raised the children with loving care.
The woodcutter soon lost all fear that his wife might one day leave him. His wife never once mentioned the robe of feathers, and the woodcutter never mentioned it himself. But he still remembered the words of the deer, telling him that he must never show his wife the robe until four children were born.
One evening after a hard day's work, the woodcutter was seated at home, drinking the wine his wife was serving him with loving care.
"I never knew that the world of man was such a pleasant place to live in," his wife remarked casually. "I wouldn't even dream of returning to Heaven. But isn't it strange? I often wonder where my robe of feathers disappeared to. Could it be possible that you hid it?"
The woodcutter was an honest man at heart. So when his wife asked him thus about the robe, somehow he couldn't bring himself to pretend ignorance. Besides, his wife had now borne him three children, and he could not lie to her. The rice wine, too, had gone slightly to his head, and he was caught off guard.
"I have kept it a secret until now," he said, "but you're right—it was I who hid your robe."
"Oh," she answered with a smile, "so it was you, after all. I often thought it might be so. When I think of the past, I feel a pang of yearning for old things. I wonder how the robe looks after all these years. Please let me take a look at it for a moment."
Somehow, the woodcutter felt relieved at having told his wife the secret he had kept hidden all to himself these many years. Forgetting all about the deer's warning, he gladly brought out the robe and showed it to her.
His wife spread the beautiful robe in her hands, and, as she did so, there stirred in her heart a strange and indescribable feeling. A snatch of an old song rose to her lips:
The multi-colored clouds now spread,
Gold and silver, purple and red;
And the strains of a heavenly sound
In the balmy skies redound.....
From the robe of feathers held in her hands, memories of dreamy days lived in Heaven now returned with startling clarity, and she was filled with an uncontrollable homesickness.
Suddenly she placed the robe lightly on her shoulders. Then she put one child on her back and the other two under each arm.
"Farewell, my husband," she said, "I must, after all, go back to Heaven." And with these words she rose into the air.
The woodcuter was so astounded that he could not move for a while. When he was finally able to run outside, there his wife was, high in the sky, looking like a tiny dragonfly winging its way to Heaven.
No matter how much the woodcutter sighed in regret over his mistake, it was now too late. He no longer had the will to go to work. Every day he stayed at home, staring into the sky and sighing for his wife and children.
One day the deer that he had saved came visiting. The deer already knew that the woodcutter's wife had returned to Heaven, taking with her the three children.
"Didn't I tell you so?" the deer said. "If there had been four children, this would never have happened. You see, a mother cannot leave a child behind. If you had had four children, she could not have carried the fourth and so couldn't have left you."
Spoken to like this by the deer, the woodcutter felt even more ashamed of himself. All he could do was hang his head and continue sighing.
"But," the deer continued, "don't be too disheartened. There is still a way you can be reunited with her. You remember that pond, don't you? Since the day the robe was lost, the fairies no longer come down to earth. Instead, they send down a bucket on a rope from Heaven and draw up water from that pond. Apparently the water of that pond is better even than the water in Heaven.
"Now, this is what you should do. Go to the pond and wait. When the bucket is lowered and filled with water, hurry and empty it out. Then climb inside the bucket yourself, and you will be drawn up into Heaven."
Again the woodcutter did as the deer told him. And he really did get to Heaven. There he was able to meet his dear wife and children again. His wife was once again a fairy, but she was overjoyed to see her husband and greeted him with open arms.
Many, many happy days followed for them. The woodcutter's life in Heaven was like a dream. Heaven was beautiful beyond belief. Never had the woodcutter seen or even imagined such beautiful scenery. His every day was an ecstasy of delight.
But there was one thing that troubled him. He often thought of his mother, whom he had left behind in the village at the foot of the Kumgang Mountains.
Time and time again, he asked himself: "I wonder what Mother is doing now? She surely must be lonely, living all by herself." And every time he thought of his mother, he kept saying: "If I could only see her just once, I would be very, very happy."
His wife, the fairy, said: "If you are so worried about her, why don't you go to see her? I'll bring you a heavenly horse, which will take you to Mother's place in a moment." So she brought him a heavenly horse.
As her husband was mounting the horse, the fairy said: "Listen! There is one important thing to remember. You must never get off this horse. If you so much as set a single foot on the ground, you will never be able to return to Heaven. Whatever happens, don't ever dismount. Do everything that you must do sitting on the horse." Only after the fairy had repeated this instruction over and over again did she finally allow her husband to set out on his journey.
As soon as the woodcutter was firmly mounted, the heav
enly horse whinnied once and was off like a bolt of lightning. In no time at all they reached the village at the foot of the Kumgang Mountains.
The aged mother had been living a lonely life all alone. When she saw her son atop a horse at her door, she wept with joy.
But the woodcutter would not get off his horse. "Mother," he said, "I am so glad to see you well. Please take good care of yourself and stay strong and well forever. If I get off this horse, I cannot go back to Heaven, and so I must say farewell as I am." So saying, the woodcutter pulled on his reins and was about to set off for Heaven.
The mother was loath to part with her son. "You have come such a long way," she said. "How can you leave like this? If you cannot dismount, then at least have a bowl of your favorite pumpkin soup. I remember how you used to love it so. I have just made some, and it should be just about ready now."
The mother went inside the house and soon returned with a steaming bowl of hot soup for her son.
The woodcutter could not refuse his mother's kindness and took the soupbowl from her hand, still seated on the horse. But, what should happen? The bowl was so hot that the woodcutter dropped it as soon as it touched his hands.
The soup splashed all over the horse's back. The horse jumped with a start and reared back on its hind legs. The woodcutter was thrown to the ground.
With a great neigh of pain, the horse leaped into the sky, leaving the woodcutter behind. In a twinkling of an eye, the horse was gone from sight.
Once again the woodcutter was left on earth. But this time, no matter how he grieved and cried, it was no use. Day after day the woodcutter lifted his face to the sky and called again and again to his wife and his children. But it was too late. Even his friend, the deer, could no longer help him. Day and night the woodcutter yearned to return to Heaven. Day and night he yearned to see his wife and children again. And as he kept gazing up into the sky and calling to his loved ones year after year, he was finally transformed into a rooster.