Tag Archives: fabulist

The Age of the Night Stalker

 

Growing up in bygone days, especially in the summertime, we were free and the outdoors held daily promise.

We greeted the world with our eyes wide open. We took nature in. We rolled in it, hid in it, fell in it, climbed it. We played, swam, biked, hiked.

We embraced life by going outside.

A mystery I’ve observed is that the more time you spend outdoors, the higher the probability that outdoor things will happen to you.

Things like acquiring a great horned owl in the dead of winter.

How many families can say they have owned one of these majestic creatures? A killer that stands almost 2 feet tall with a wing span of almost 4 1/2 feet. Not many families have had the privilege, I’m certain.

My family was blessed to have owned a great horned owl.

Keep in mind that when I say my family “owned” the owl, I am taking liberties with language, because can anyone really own a fierce predator? A killer of the night?

No. You cannot.

So I wrote the poem “The Great Horned Owl” to tell you my story of the full-grown night stalker and its relationship with my family.

When I was young, maybe 12 years old, the great horned owl lived in our shed. A shed my hound dog, a fearless canine, claimed as his own, until the arrival of the raptor.

So I share this story with you. It took place in another time, in an age of simplicity, innocence and minimal technology. In an age when we went outside. In an age when poems rhymed.

I hope you enjoy the “The Great Horned Owl”, a true story.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Night of the Goat Sucker

Consider the goat sucker, better known as el chupacabra.

What is this creature? Is it real? If so, why has nobody produced evidence? Where is a body? Where are the bones of the dead goat suckers?

Yet, there have been numerous sightings. The creature has been spotted in Puerto Rico, Mexico, South America, the Southwestern United States, and now, reports trickle in from around the world.

Some eye witnesses say the chupacabra has large oval blood-red eyes. Alien eyes. Which raises the question, is the chupacabra extraterrestrial?

Out on the streets, the word is that the loathsome little creature was born in a government lab somewhere inside Area 51, that fortress of extraterrestrial legend.

The origin of the goat sucker is a mystery my friends. But there is something about this creature that is not of this world, it with its sharp fangs, serpent’s forked tongue, greenish-gray hue, leathery hide and spikes on its back. Just weird.

Well, I’m here to tell you that the chupacabra exists.

How do I know? I am an eye witness. I am going to tell you my story of that chilling encounter. Since that night, which coincidentally, was Halloween, I have learned much about el chupacabra.

Some night you may come across a chupacabra. You will be frightened, and rightly so. The chupacabra is hideous to behold.

But the animal, if indeed it is an animal, probably will flee, because it is an elusive creature. It is a loner. Traditional chupacabras hide. They generally avoid people and even other chupacabras.

But what if, like people, chupacabras have complex personalities? Maybe their alien brains are more complex than ours, but we can’t recognize that because of our limited and puny human intelligence?

What if there was a chupacabra larger and stronger than all the others? What if that creature was a beast with a malevolent personality and a hankering for not just goat blood, but human child blood and flesh as well?

Well my friends, that would be one dangerous creature. A fierce and formidable fiend.

So I’m going to tell you my story of my encounter with this bloody creature, a most evil entity who wasn’t content to just suck goat blood, but rather, he enjoyed ripping his victims apart.

Read my story El Chupacabra” here.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Legend of the Chuckwalla

Wally Chuckwalla was the most popular lizard in the desert, and that was no accident.

He was well liked because he was a most beautiful reptile, and that was no accident either.

Wally had a secret that made him attractive, and therefore, beloved.

His secret?

He loved flowers more than anything else on this earth.

To read the legend of Wally and Chucky Chuckwalla, go to The Chuckwalla

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

Return of the Sad Man

Hello friends of FabulousFables.com. It has been a while since I posted here. What’s up with that? you wonder. Did I have writer’s block? No. I don’t get writer’s block. I am filled with stories and poems that flow out my fingers when I touch my keyboard.

I apologize for my absence. Unfortunately, I had a tragedy in my life when my wife died a couple of years ago. In my grief, I just couldn’t write here.

Jacque Madrid, my late wife, was most responsible for this website. She loved the stories and encouraged me to share them. Without her there would be no FabulousFables.com. She named the website. She was my muse.

When a loved one dies, we grieve. My loss was immense. Immeasurable. It crushed my will to write. Especially here.

Eventually I had to embrace that pain of my loss. I had to allow myself the sadness. I let the gloom envelope me, and I wallowed in it when I felt I should. Then I returned to the light.

Allowing myself to hurt helps me heal. By healing, I don’t mean I forget Jacque. No, she lives forever in my heart and memory. The pain and sadness has not gone away.

But by accepting the loss, I grow. I am a better human being. You see, I learned love is the most powerful force in the universe.

Life dramatically changed for me in an instant. I learned how precious life is. I learned to show my loved ones that I appreciate them. Each day could be the last day we have them here on earth.

Why share this with you? Maybe it will help you if you are grieving. Maybe not. You must grieve in your own way, and don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t grieving correctly. I am merely sharing my experience with you and why I have been remiss in my responsibility to the website.

So in honor of that magnificent woman Jacque, I am back to fulfill her vision. I have come through the fire and am renewed. Enjoy The Chuckwalla, my latest story. I think Jacque would have loved Wally and Chucky Chuckwalla.

I hope you love them too.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Spider and the Fly

By Mary Howitt

“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the Spider to the Fly,
“‘Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show you when you are there.”
“Oh no, no,” said the Fly, “to ask me is in vain;
For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.”

“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly.
“There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin;
And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in!”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “for I’ve often heard it said
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!”

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, “Dear friend, what can I do
To prove that warm affection I’ve always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that’s nice;
I’m sure you’re very welcome – will you please take a slice?”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “kind sir, that cannot be,
I’ve heard what’s in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!”

“Sweet creature,” said the Spider, “you’re witty and you’re wise;
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf;
If you step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.”
“I thank you, gentle sir,” she said, “for what you’re pleased to say;
And bidding good morning now, I’ll call another day.”

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again;
So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready to dine upon the Fly.
then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
“Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple, there’s a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are as dull as lead.”

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, –
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue;
Thinking only of her crested head – poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den
Within his little parlor – but she ne’er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne’er heed;
Unto an evil counsellor close heart, and ear, and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly.

 

Mary Howitt, (1799–1888) published The Spider and the Fly in 1829. It is a cautionary tale about the use of flattery and charm to mask evil and unsavory intentions. Although written so long ago, the poem is as relevant today as the day it was written. That is why I have included the poem here in FabulousFables.com. The poem’s lesson is timeless.

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

Aesop

Who was Aesop?

It depends which story you believe, but one version is that he was a deformed, stuttering Greek slave in the 6th century B.C. who was granted the gift of crafting fables by the goddess Isis.

The magic of Isis transformed Aesop into the legendary fabulist whose stories live on because of their timeless lessons.

Aesop’s fables have been told and retold throughout history. You can find different versions of the same story among different cultures.

In the end, according to one version, Aesop was thrown off a cliff by the people of Delphi, who then suffered pestilence and famine. Whether true or not, I like to imagine that Isis used her powers to curse those who dared kill the legendary storyteller.

David Madrid, president of FabulousFables.com, is a storyteller who also writes fables. While impossible to compete with Aesop, the greatest fabulist of all time, this website offers fables that we hope teach lessons that both children and adults will recognize and consider.

FabulousFables.com will occasionally offer you its version of Aesop’s fables.

We love the fable, and we thank Aesop for showing us the way.

365px-Aesop_woodcut_Spain_1489[1]

A woodcut from La vida del Ysopet con sus fabulas historiadas (Spain, 1489) depicting a hunchbacked Aesop surrounded by events from the stories in Planudes’ version of his life.

Woodcut image from Wikipedia

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

The Stuck Truck

The Stuck Truck

It was the driver’s bad luck

That the truck got stuck

As he drove beneath the overpass.

Slightly wedged, he hit the gas,

And jammed the truck in tight.

So they called far and wide for experts who were bright,

Engineers with brilliant minds,

A solution they would surely find.

An expert said: “We can use some floor-to-ceiling jacks

“To raise the overpass.”

But with each lift of a jack

The arch that held the bridge cracked.

“We can cut off the top of the truck with a saw,”

Was another idea with a serious flaw.

Two geniuses discussed breaking apart the road above.

“It will loosen the arch just enough.”

People gathered on the bridge and looked down.

“Oh my, what will they do?” they fretted and frowned.

But a young boy nearby licking a sucker

Said: “I know how to help the troubled trucker.

“Why don’t you deflate the tires on the truck?

“I’ll wager that the truck will drop and become unstuck.”

For all those brains that had traveled for miles,

None saw the problem through the eyes of a child.

And so dear readers, remember the lesson

Taught so long ago by Ralph Waldo Emerson:

That it doesn’t matter who you meet

When you are walking down the street.

That person can teach you a thing or two

Even if the person is old or a youth.

The End

David Madrid

Contact: David Madrid

“In my walks, every man I meet is my superior in some way, … in that I learn from him.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Philosopher, Poet, Essayist

May 25, 1803 – April 27, 1882