Folklore Weaver

On the outskirts of a forest, a brother and sister lived in a small mud hut. As their parents had died long ago, it was the brother's duty to find a suitable bridegroom for his sister. It so happened that once a young man from a distant village came hunting to their forest and got lost. At nightfall he came to their house. They gave him shelter, and the sister fell in love with him, and the two were married. The sister soon left with her new husband for his village, which was far away. Months later, the brother wanted to visit them. He gathered fruits and tubers for the journey, asked for directions to the distant village from other villagers, and set out. He had to cross several forests, hills, and valleys. He was walking through a forest when it grew dark. Though he was strong and had his bow and arrows and his pickaxe, he was still afraid of tigers and wild animals. As he sat down tired under a mahul tree (a tropical fruit tree), the tree asked him to come up and rest in its br...

On the banks of the Ganges, a monkey lived in a rose-apple tree. The rose-apples were delicious and plentiful. While he was eating them with obvious relish one day, a crocodile came out of the river, and the monkey threw down a few rose-apples and said, 'These are the best rose-apples in the world. They taste like nectar' The crocodile chomped on them and found them truly wonderful. The monkey and the crocodile became friends, and the crocodile took to visiting the monkey every day to eat the fruit of that wonderful tree and to talk in its shade. One day the crocodile went home and took some of the fruit to his wife. "These are wonderful. They taste like nectar. Where did you get them?' asked the wife. He said, 'From a tree on the banks of the Ganges.' 'But you can't climb the tree. Did you pick them up from the sands?" 'No, I've a new friend who lives in the tree, a monkey. He throws them down for me and we talk.' 'Oh, that's w...

Fyodor was a woodcutter known for his skill with an axe, but also for a certain arrogance and a tendency to take more from the forest than he truly needed. One crisp autumn morning, he ventured deep into the woods near his village, a place where the trees grew tall and ancient, and where whispers of the Leshy were often carried on the wind. Ignoring the quiet reverence the villagers held for this part of the forest, Fyodor began his work with gusto, felling tree after tree with a greedy efficiency. He paid no heed to the rustling leaves that seemed to watch him, nor the strange echoes that occasionally mimicked the sound of his axe. He was intent only on filling his cart to overflowing. As the day wore on, Fyodor became aware that the familiar paths had vanished. The trees, which had seemed distinct moments before, now blurred into an indistinguishable green and brown mass. The sun, once a reliable guide, seemed to play tricks, appearing in unexpected parts of the sky. Fyodor realized ...

Once upon a time, in a small village nestled between rice fields and misty hills, there lived a humble farmer named Tuan. He was a man of simple means but had recently grown greedy, always looking for ways to gain more without effort. One dry season, his fields yielded almost nothing, and in frustration, he cursed the heavens and stormed into the nearby forest in search of food or fortune. While wandering through the trees, Tuan stumbled upon a strange sight—a large toad, sitting on a stone, singing in a low, melodic voice. The toad’s song was mesmerizing, and the forest seemed to hush around it. Curious, Tuan stepped closer, and the toad turned its golden eyes toward him and said, “Why do you disturb my song, human?” Startled but intrigued, Tuan replied, “I seek fortune. I have nothing. My crops have failed.” The toad nodded. “Greed makes the mouth lie and the heart empty. But you may take me home, only if you care for me and never interrupt my song.” Seeing an opportunity, Tuan agree...