The girl who always cried

The girl who always cried

Far to the west, near the Great Water, stood a small settlement. Behind it stretched a forest, and between the trees ran a clear stream.

Near the stream, in a low house, lived a solitary Owl Man.

He disliked noisy gatherings. By day, he kept to the shade; towards evening, he ventured into the forest. His large eyes were watchful, and he said so little that people thought him strange.

When someone asked:

“Why is he silent all the time?”

Another answered:

“Who knows? Perhaps he is listening to the forest.”

Little by little, people began inventing frightening stories about him. Adults did this especially when they wanted to quiet children quickly.

“Don't be naughty, because Owl Man will hear!”

“Don't cry so loudly, because he will come!”

They said these things casually, scarcely thinking about them.

There lived a girl in the same settlement. She was raised by foster parents who loved her very much, but did not always understand her.

The girl often cried.

Sometimes she wanted something she could not have. Sometimes she was tired, or hurt. And sometimes she did not know why her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

“Again?” sighed the neighbors.

“What more do you want?”

“You have everything!”

These words did not make the girl feel any better. On the contrary, she wanted to cry even more.

One evening, almost all the residents went to the shore of the Great Water to have dinner together. The moon shone brightly, the waves made a quiet noise, people laughed and talked.

The girl had stayed home after quarrelling with her family and declaring:

“I will not go anywhere!”

“Very well,” a family elder said wearily. “Stay here if you wish.”

And then, without thinking, he added:

“If Owl Man heard all this crying, perhaps he would teach us all a little quiet.”

The words flew into the evening air.

And in old fairy tales, words sometimes have long legs.

Soon there was a rustling at the door.

Owl Man was standing on the threshold with a large basket.

“I heard someone calling me,” he said.

The girl wiped her eyes.

“I didn’t call you.”

“But someone in this house called my name.”

“It was the adults who said something stupid.”

Owl Man thought for a moment.

“Adults say foolish things too,” he agreed. “But since I am here, come with me to the forest. It is quiet there.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You cry all the time. Maybe the silence will help you.”

The girl shook her head.

“I said, ‘I don’t want to.’”

But Owl Man was very used to his own solitude and not at all used to listening to others. He decided that he knew better.

“It will only be for a little while,” he said, placing her in his large basket to carry her quickly home along the path.

“Let me go!” the girl screamed.

Her tears now were no mere fretfulness. She was frightened, and had every reason to be.

Owl Man carried the basket deeper and deeper into the forest. Finally they came to his house by the stream.

“You will calm down here,” he said.

“I will only calm down when I get home.”

But Owl Man didn’t understand. He thought that if he gave the girl berries, a warm blanket, and a place by the fire, she would definitely want to stay.

A day passed.

Then another.

She stopped shouting, though she was no happier in the forest. She had realised that she needed to think.

She began to watch Owl Man carefully.

He loved everything unusual. If he saw a shiny shell, he would look at it for a long time. If he found a strange stone, he would put it on a shelf. And he was also very interested in how people decorated their hair and faces.

One day, the girl found fragrant oil and smoothed it into her hair. It gleamed in the firelight.

Owl Man noticed right away.

“What did you do?”

“I took care of my hair,” she replied.

“And I want mine to shine.”

The girl almost smiled.

“Then bring me some tree resin. Soft resin, mind.”

Owl Man went and brought a whole bowl of fragrant resin.

The girl warmed it up a little so that it became sticky.

“Close your eyes,” she said. “Keep them closed until I tell you.”

Owl Man obediently closed his eyes.

The girl carefully applied the resin to his hair so thickly that the strands stuck together.

“Sit still and let it dry.”

And she quietly went out the door.

First she walked.

Then she ran.

Even faster.

Through ferns, between pines, across the narrow stream, straight towards the Great Water.

When Owl Man realized what had happened, he spent a long time tearing the sticky resin from his hair.

“Hey!” he called. “Where are you?”

His voice echoed through the trees:

“Hoo-hoo! Hoo-hoo!”

People could hear him far into the night.

Meanwhile, the girl had reached home. Her foster mother hugged her tightly.

“We’ve searched everywhere for you!”

The family elder lowered his head.

“I spoke carelessly. I should never have joked about someone taking you away.”

The girl was silent.

Then she said:

“When I cry, you don’t always have to make me shut up. Sometimes it’s better to ask what happened.”

“You’re right,” he replied.

Soon Owl Man appeared near the house.

He was angry and confused.

“She ran away from me!”

“Because she asked you to let her go,” her foster mother replied. “And you did not listen.”

“I wanted her to feel better.”

“Wanting to help is not enough if you do not listen to the person you are helping.”

Owl Man stood silent for a long time.

Just then, an old man from the family returned. He was learned in magic. He looked at the damaged branches, the tracks on the path, the girl, and Owl Man, then said:

“Today everyone here must understand something.”

He turned to Owl Man:

“You love the night, the forest and solitude. That is your place. But never again decide for another person where they should live and what they should want.”

Then he turned to the girl:

“And you have a strong voice. Do not be ashamed of it. But whenever you can, learn to express yourself in words: ‘I am sad,’ ‘I am angry,’ ‘I am frightened,’ ‘I need help.’”

And a miracle happened.

Owl Man felt his arms turn into wings, and his great, watchful eyes saw even more clearly in the dark. He became an owl and flew into the forest.

“Hoo-hoo,” he called among the trees.

Not out of revenge or anger. That was just how his new voice sounded in the night forest.

The girl felt her shoulders grow light too. Her arms became wings, and she turned into a fish hawk that circled above the Great Water.

Her cry was loud and piercing.

But now no one said:

“Shut up.”

People looked up at the sky and said:

“That’s the voice of a bird. It means something.”

Since then, the owl has stuck to the forest, while the fish hawk loves the water and the open sky.

Their voices are very different.

One sounds in the darkness:

“Hoo-hoo…”

Another floats over the waves:

“Kee-ee-ee!”

Whenever the old people hear them, they remind children and adults alike: a voice does not always need silencing. Sometimes it needs someone to listen.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨