THREE TALES FROM ASYLGUL. Asylgul Baidaralina

our village with a name of Dossor, our house, tulips in spring, and our big apple tree that we often climbed on. That apple tree was planted by our grandfather Matbai: he grafted different species of apples onto one tree, so the different types of apples grew on it. I think, maybe my grandfather’s soul was in this tree…

      With these thoughts I will start writing this one story from my childhood. One summer evening it was rainy and windy outside. The electricity went off in our little house located in an open plain. The thunder and lightning bolts were striking loudly in the sky.

      My little sister and brother and I were seating quietly in our Grandma’s room. The sounds on the outside appeared to be so scary and mesmerizing, almost magical.

      Our Dad lit an old oil lantern and came by. He hugged us and started telling us one old story tale. Dad heard this story from his father, our grandfather. It was about the Iron Axe and the Woodcutter.

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      In the old time, magical creatures sometimes appeared before humans. Back then one old Woodcutter lived near the forest. He was providing for his family with his old iron axe. He cut firewood and sold it at a local market, and with this little earning he bought necessary things for living.