This telling of the Crane Wife story was written and illustrated as a project for Folktale Week on Instagram.
Once, a young farmer found a crane with an arrow in its wing. Blood stained its soft feathers, and its cries touched his heart. He brought the bird home and tended its wound. He grew fond of the crane's gentle, stately grace, and when it was well he bid it farewell with a twinge of regret. "Watch out for hunters!" he admonished, and the crane bent its head in gratitude, glowing white in the light of the moon.
The next night, with the moon still round in the sky, a woman appeared at the young man's door, tall and graceful as a beautiful dream. Her robe was of soft white cloth and her shining hair was held by a crimson lacquered comb. "I will be your wife," she told him. He rose, hardly believing his good fortune, took her in his arms, and loved her immediately.
It was not long, though, before the farmer felt himself awakening from the dream of bliss with his mysterious, lovely bride. For the land he worked was poor, and his purse was empty. He feared he could provide only a poor life for such a woman, and lamented that he surely could not keep her. But, in a sweet clear voice, she told him, "Do not worry, only build me a loom and I will weave cloth that will keep us well. But you must never look upon me while I weave."
He built her a loom, and a small room where she could work alone. It was not long before she brought him a bolt of light gray cloth, soft as down and finer than he had ever seen. The price it fetched at market would let them live in comfort for some time.
Soon, though, he began again to feel that it was not enough. "Should we be content simply not to go hungry?" he thought. "Why should famine not become feast ?"
He pressed his wife to weave more and more of the beautiful cloth, telling himself he wanted only to afford everything she might wish for. She worked on without complaint, and he did not notice her growing quiet, thin and drawn. He did notice when the pace of her weaving slowed. Wondering what kept her, he peered in to watch her at her work, as he had sworn not to do.
There at the loom was the crane he had tended what seemed so long ago. The great bird was bending to pluck the white and black feathers from its breast and wings, and using the fibers to make cloth.
Raising its head, the crane met the man's eye, and then there was his wife looking at him with sorrow in her eyes. At once, he realized what he had done: both what he had been asking of his wife, and what the betrayal of his promise would mean now. His heart sat like a stone in his chest, and his tears welled up to become a river.
He pleaded for forgiveness begged her to stay, but what was done could not be undone. The magic had been broken. A crane took flight and vanished into the sky. The woman was a bird, and the man was alone once more, with sweet memories and an empty house.