The Cryptic Fairytale
Diocesan Girls’ School, Leung Yee Kei Peony, Fiction: Group 3
I
looked up at Gramma as she sat on the stool, weaving with the wool from the cashmere
goats Papa tended.
Gramma was someone fascinating. She enjoyed weaving and was a great story teller,
with a talent for creating vivid images with words and her voice.
“Gramma, can you tell me a story? It’s nearing my bedtime,” I informed her, my small voice
ringing through the hut we called home. Mama was singing my sister to sleep and Papa was
resting after a long day of tending to the flocks. It had been so long since I had a story told to me.
“What would you like to hear, Idree?” Gramma asked me. I smiled, recognizing her submission
to tell me a tale.
“The classic fairytale, Gramma, with good guys chasing away the bad guys and the prince
and princess falling in love and living happily ever after,” I decided.
The steady rhythm of Gramma’s weaving persisted in the hut. Mama’s singing faded into the
distance as I anticipated Gramma’s tale.
“A long, long time ago--,”
“No, Gramma, all good stories start with ‘once upon a time’, everyone knows that!” I told
Gramma, shocked that she did not know.
“Ah, Idree, stories with happy endings start with ‘once upon a time’. This story’s ending may
be happy or tragic, depending on how you look at it. Now, stop interrupting me or I won’t tell you
the story at all.”
“Sorry, Gramma,” I whispered.
“That’s okay. Alright. A long, long time ago, in the Gobi desert, lived a tribe. They were
known all through the land for being the strongest tribe that ever lived, and other tribes fell
at their feet. Their power came from the leader, you see. He was strong, courageous and just.
Everyone respected him. He had wisdom to rule his tribe. He had a wonderful wife who gave
advice to people who asked for it. He also had a beautiful daughter whose beauty was stunning
to behold. Yet nobody except for the tribe leader and his wife saw her for the leader was horribly
protective of the daughter he saw as one of a kind.
“The tribe, yet, had an opposing tribe. The other tribe was nearly as peaceful and successful as
the strong tribe. The two tribes constantly fought each other for land. Yet, each tribe leader admired
the other for their outstanding qualities and could even be seen as allies if they weren’t fighting.
“One day, the tribe was functioning as normally and perfectly as usual, when men—funny
looking men, I should say, with white skin and hair the colour of sunlight burst into the tribe.
There were so little of them and the tribe outnumbered them. Yet, in their hands, they carried
black things that made the atmosphere resonate with a bang when they pressed a button.
Naturally, all the tribe people recoiled, neither knowing what to do nor what the things were.
“The strange men told the tribe to move and leave, for they were standing in the way of
progress,” Gramma’s voice trembled with rage and anger.
“The tribe leader stepped out. ‘Stand down,’ he said, ’let this be a peaceful agreement, mutual
and fair. I will not stand for being told what to do and what not.’
“Reluctantly, the strange men did so. They proceeded to talk in the tribe leader’s hut. When,
