The Myths/Folklore Blog

Once there was a young boy, Mark who lived in a normal suburban neighborhood in Oklahoma. Mark didn’t have many friends, he was a bit too odd. That didn’t bother Mark at all, he filled his time with adventure books and exploring the nearby fields that surrounded his town. One day, as Mark was exploring, he came across a manhole cover. Normally Mark wouldn’t have taken notice but there were a couple of things that drew in his attention. One, instead of having a rusted color (like most manholes Mark has seen) it was chrome! Two, when Mark drew closer to it, he could hear a pleasant humming noise coming from underneath it. So, naturally, Mark went to the manhole and tried to lift it. The cover flew off, it was as Mark had the strength of 10 men! He thought to himself, “Aren’t manhole covers supposed to be really heavy?” However, before he could give thought as to why this manhole cover was so odd, a huge gust of wind pushed him into the hole! Mark felt the wind gushing past him ...

A long time ago, when humans still had not come about, Oklahoma was filled with many of the animals that are still found there today. Two of the most important animals within the community were the graceful, brown and white feathered Kingbird and his friend, the massive Buffalo. One day, as the Kingbird was resting on the Buffalo back, looking for insects to catch, the Buffalo turned its head sideways and spoke, “Little bird, why do you always come and sit on my back, why should I let you benefit from my size while you give me nothing?”. The Kingbird thought for a moment and replied, “Why do I have to benefit you? I’m not causing any harm to your back, am I?” The great Buffalo turned his head back toward the plain ahead and huffed, “You’re lucky I’m in a terrific mood today, for there is grass aplenty for me to graze upon.” Weeks passed, with the Kingbird occasionally using the Buffalo as a ride – nothing more was said on the topic until one evening, right as the sun was sett...

Walking up to the gleaming Palace of Three, Armistice could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. No one was allowed past the white gate – what his grandfather had told him of his parentage must have been true. Armistice had a normal childhood, at least by mid-world’s standards. Living within the country had taught him the true value of things: justice, vengeance, and power – in this order, specifically, he was told how to rise up in the world, to be a representative of the place where he came from. He didn’t want to disappoint his teachers. That’s why he walked past the gate, why he was told of his relation to one of the three. Armistice didn’t simply want power to control his own fate, he wanted to control the fates of everyone around him – no one could get in his way. He was in front of the large marble door now – he could see the engravings of past revolts, with Vengeance coming down upon the masses with her fiery whip. Next to these revolts was Power, the weak...

The man tore across the dark street and they followed. As he briefly looked behind him, he could see the many darkened faces of the creature (creatures? he couldn’t tell) strolling towards him in such a way that they came after him with little movement. The creature itself was not large by our standards, but its presence was known to drive men insane, its face (faces?) would look into men and they would care not for the torment that it would cause. The man had angered the wrong people in his life and now the creature was after him. He felt like he was running through water, as if he was in a dream. When he got to the other side of the road, he knew that unless he did something soon, he was doomed. Je couldn’t keep up the pace any longer. As he moved from the road, there was only one place to go – an alley that ran between two skyscrapers that pierced the sky and loomed over him. The crowds that he pushed through to get there seemed not to notice what was happening. They hadn’t bro...