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Winner: The Kingfisher Cloak
By Huan-Hua Chye
Story note:
The first recorded version of the Cinderella story came from a Chinese story written around 860 AD about a young woman named Yeh-Shen. Like Cinderella in the familiar Western story, Yeh-Shen is the youngest of three daughters and is persecuted by her wicked stepmother and two elder stepsisters before she finally loses a shoe at the dance that leads a prince to her door. However, unlike the Western Cinderella, her "fairy godmother" is a magical fish with golden eyes, and her slippers are made of gold, not glass.
"Delicious, isn't it?" her stepmother said, laughing strangely, as Yeh-Shen lifted another flaky white piece of fish with her chopsticks. "Eat up, girl, eat more."
A chill suddenly swept over Yeh-Shen as she thought of how odd it was that her stepmother had offered to cook dinner. She put down her bowl. "Delicious," she whispered, thinking desperately of the last time she had seen her friend the fish: yesterday, down in the rushes by the riverbank, swimming up through the shallows to gaze up at her as she dropped crumbs into the clear green water for it to eat. She had told the fish about the Spring Festival they were preparing for, and how badly she longed to go. "What kind of fish is it?"
"Well, I went down to the riverbank today, and I saw a huge fish there. He seemed very tame." Her stepmother paused, savoring the moment, and lifted her bowl of rice to her lips to shovel another bite into her mouth. "Mmm. It swam right up to me. It had these huge eyes, golden, like a cat's. Sort of pretty. I don't normally fish, but it was so easy to catch, I just couldn't resist." She laughed a little, and then she could hold it back no longer, and her terrible laughter poured out as Yeh-Shen rushed away from the table, sobbing.
Yeh-Shen sat on the bank under the willow tree, holding the clean white bones of her beloved fish in a square of hemp cloth in her lap. She had wept for weeks, until she could weep no more, and now she tried to find solace in speaking to the bones as she had once spoken to the living being. "I wish I could go to the Spring Festival, like everyone else," she whispered. "There will be dancing there, and food, and merchants from the capital. I would go, too, but look at me. I have nothing but rags. I look like a beggar. How they would laugh!"
A gust of wind suddenly rose, and tore through the trees around her, sending pale pink petals swirling through the air like snow. Yeh-Shen stopped and rubbed her eyes, and when she looked down again, the bones were resting on a pile of shining blue fabric. The hemp cloth was nowhere to be seen.
Trembling, she reached out and unfolded the fabric.
It was a delicate azure silk gown, light as air, and under it, resting on the grass, was a pair of tiny golden slippers patterned with the gentle curves of fish scales. She held the dress up to her body, and shivered suddenly as the wind swept over her again. "Oh, my friend, thank you!" she cried to the fish bones, overwhelmed with sudden joy.
"I'll be cold at the Festival," she added to herself, "but it will be worth it."
A shrill cry came from the tree above her. Startled, she looked up to see a kingfisher peering at her with its head cocked. It flapped its wings and a pair of feathers fluttered to the ground: one deep blue, one warm brown.
Yeh-Shen reached out, and as she touched the blue feather, its outlines seemed to blur, as though she were seeing it through the shimmering haze of a hot, dry day. She rubbed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the feather had been replaced by a skein of glowing blue silk yarn, with a skein of brown beside it.
"Thank you, kingfisher! But what can I do with this? I have no loom, nor needles, nor hook to make something to wear." Her eyes fell on the fish bones again, and she realized they were hazily changing the way the feather had. Finally, two long, white knitting needles lay on the pile of bones. She took them up, took the end of the skein of silk in her other hand, and cast on for a cloak of kingfisher blue to wear over her azure gown and her golden slippers. As her needles clicked together, she dreamed of dancing under the flowering trees. For one night, at least, she could pretend to be a princess.
"For one night, at least, I'll be happy," she said to herself, "and then I'll go back to my old life." She sighed. "I'm sure nothing else in my life will ever change, but at least my friends have given me this gift. One night of happiness. One night to dance."
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