We present all the winners of fairy tales’ competition. Contest rules are simple: invent a story mentioning woven wrap Mokosh. The names of the patterns, which inspired our participants are: Syrin, Girih, Eywa, Ayiri, Lacy Rose and Doves of peace, prickly Thistle … These words take us to a fairy-tale world straightaway. We are very impressed with surprising stories of this contest. The jury was headed by well-known singer and songwriter Natalia O’Shea aka Hellawes. Other members of the jury: the owner and chief designer of the brand Mokosh-wrap Amata Chleck, Wrapcollection.com site leaders – Nina Arkhipova and Julia Nurmagambetova, wonderful babywearing mom Kristina Maximova. See the LJ community Mokosh-wrap to details about the awards. And we offer for your reading all seven winning stories with the original illustrations. And many thanks to translator Marina Zheleznitskaya, did a great job (especially translation of the poem)!
Somewhere upstairs, higher than stars, three old Spinners spin their spindle and don’t let to stop the Earth running. These Spinners are so old, that they may tell everything from the beginning of days. And, by the way, they may hear people’s prayers – if they mean it.
The first Spinner, the oldest one, cup her wrinkled hand over her ear and listen.
Once again, they weep and cry for help, – she sniffed. – Over there, on the Earth, it’s getting colder and colder. But these stupid humans believe in miracles as before.
I cannot stand baby’s crying, cannot work at all – yarn is tearing all the time. We should help, – thoughtfully said the second Spinner.
And I know how, – said the third and put her spindle aside.
It happened at New Year’s Eve, when everything stands motionless, waiting for a miracle. But this time dark and dead Frost instead of Magic came to the city. Houses, roads and even trees in the park were stiffen with cold and black ice, wind howled and whirled snowflakes, and frozen streets clinked with the steps of people passing by, who huddle themselves up from cold, wrapped up into warm clothes, wishing to reach home as soon as possible.
I must close the shop, – mumbled Mother, looking at empty street through the window of her handicraft shop, – Anyway nobody will come in such weather. Nothing matters but doctor comes.
And she worriedly glanced at her Baby, who was dozing restless, swept in his cradle. A while later he’ll wake up and burst out crying. The Baby was crying since his very birth – and nobody knew why. When babies of the same age lay peacefully in their carriages, he choked with tears. Mother spent all her earnings on doctors, who unfortunately couldn’t help. God, if the Baby were healthy and happy!
The door-bell rang, let the late visitor in. Mother rushed to the door, but it was not a doctor, who entered the shop, but a small thin old lady, wrapped in an odd inwrought shawl.
It’s so cold outside, my dear, – said the Old Lady, rubbing her hands, bare, red with frost. – May I warm myself at your place?
Sure, come in, please. Everybody is cold nowadays…
Mother let unbidden guest in and ran to her Baby, who, of course, woke up and began crying.
Here you are, – Mother took a pair of woolen gloves out of the counter. – Otherwise you’ll get your hands frostbitten, the winter is severe these days. They are warm, I myself knitted them.
The Old Lady accepted the present with grateful smile, put them on, but didn’t leave the shop.
You are a good-hearted woman, and good-hands as well, – she said. And one should help to good people. I know what you and your Baby need. And all other Mothers too. Just some real warmth.
With these words she came to the cradle, palmed the Baby on his cheek, and he immediately calmed down, stopped crying and kept serious eyes on the Old Lady in such way as only babies could do.
But….how? How do you know?..- Mother wondered. – What are you, faerie?
May be a faerie, – the Old Lady cracked a sly smile. I cannot show you my real name and face. Call me Mokosh, if you want, Mother of handicraft, in other words. Once a year I may come down to the Earth in order to work wonder for only one person. You’ve helped me, darling, I’ll pay you back. I’ll make a present for you, something really valuable, but in order miracle happen, you should take some work.
The Old Lady opened her bag and took a tiny shiny crewel.
– Here is my enchanted crewel-knot – Girih. There is your own thread of life in it. Not so long – as all of you, humans, have. You have to weave a shawl from this thread, wide and long, like mine, take a good look, – with these words the Old Lady took her shawl from her shoulders, unwrapped it, and it was resplendent in its starry pattern. – Just wrap your Baby in it, and then it will help and suggest what to do. If you are really skilled enough, it won’t be difficult for you to create a new pattern of your fate, in order you and your Baby are happy. And, maybe you may help anyone else, who knows? And now I say farewell, I must go back.
Before Mother knew it, the Old Lady has gone, as if she has never been there. Only the small crewel shimmered in half-lighted shop as a twinkle. It was so tiny, and the thread was so thin, that Mother thought sadly: “This yarn will be enough only for a pair of socks. Probably, the faerie made fun of me”. But then she looked at her Baby, who was quietly moaning in his sleep, and firmly sat down at the loom.
She worked quickly: it seemed like thread itself came together to form a right pattern, one had only to take it into hands. Mother was weaving and weaving, having lost the track of time, and the cloth was longer and longer, but the thread was not ending to her surprise.
Very soon a new wrap was ready, and it appeared to be so beautiful and warm, soft and cozy, that Mother picked up her Baby and wrapped him, and the Wrap was just waiting for the chance: it twisted tightly around Mother and Baby, warming and comforting them both.
Baby didn’t cry anymore and was in good health. He slept quietly, enwrapped with warmth of enchanted shawl. And when Mother looked at enchanted crewel once again, she saw, that it became much bigger, than before. Then it was enough yarn for many wraps – for other mothers and babies, who also want to be happy.
Written and illustrated by:
Maria Nasonkina a.k.a redaktorscha