Wandering Spirits: Modern Fables

By Salman Ansari

Wandering Spirits is a collection of whimsical tales that feed the soul, tug the heart, and spark the mind.

Inspired by classic books like The Little Prince, these delightfully illustrated fables follow a variety of charming animal characters as they embark on fantastical yet profoundly relatable quests. In this book, you'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Otterpine
• Release date: Jan 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9781955671316

Book preview

Cover for Wandering Spirits: Modern Fables, Written and Illustrated by Salman AnsariWandering Spirits: Modern Fables, Written and Illustrated by Salman Ansari

copyright © 2023 Salman Ansari

all rights reserved

production

Saeah Wood & Amy Reed

editorial

Matthew Limpede & Janine Noel

design & layout

Ivica Jandrijevic

production assistant

Elizabeth Evey

hardcover: 978-1-955671-29-3

paperback: 978-1-955671-30-9

e-book: 978-1-955671-31-6

audiobook: 978-1-955671-32-3

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Contents

Prologue

Wolf’s Way

Fox’s Tails

Frog’s Fantasy

Horse’s Race

Turtle’s Tide

Bird’s Wings

About the Author

For Scooby,

the sweetest soul there ever was

It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.

—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Prologue

A little boy walks alone toward a nearby lake. The crunch of his steps stands out in the silent forest. He glances back at his home, then turns ahead and leaps over a log. He trudges through a thick wall of trees, following the path he used to walk with his father. Along the way, he takes care to step inside his father’s old footprints, hoping to keep them alive.

For most of the boy’s life, his father was away on service overseas. On short weekend visits, his father would take him to the lake and spend the afternoon telling him fantastical stories about animals in the forest. The boy would always listen closely, hoping to guess the moral of the story. One weekend, as the little boy waited for his father’s knock on the door, the phone rang instead. When his mother answered it, she froze, then slid down onto the kitchen floor. The little boy ran to her. She looked at him but couldn’t speak. When she finally snapped out of her trance, she broke the news: his father would never return.

The little boy reaches the lake and takes a seat at his favorite spot—a big, smooth rock by the banks. He looks at his reflection in the water. A curled brown leaf blows in the wind and lands on top of him. He stares at it in his reflection. The leaf hangs loosely across his forehead, the way his father’s wavy hair used to.

Dad? he asks.

A frog leaps out of the water and onto a floating leaf.The boy shakes his head. I wish it were really you.

A bird in the trees sings its song. The little boy watches it peck its beak into its wings. Mom says you aren’t coming back, but I know you will. You said you’d tell me the rest of your stories.

He picks up some pebbles and tosses them sideways, sending them skipping through the water. You promised. He watches a pebble’s last leap before it sinks down into the lake, never to be seen again. It’s so quiet without you.

A sudden burst of ripples breaks out in the lake. A voice speaks out.

Quiet? Ha! It’s never quiet with you around.

Who said that? asks the boy as he looks around him.

I did, says the voice.

But where are you?

Right here. I am the lake.

No you’re not.

Yes I am.

No, you’re not! I bet you’re just hiding behind a tree.

The lake’s water begins to bubble. I’ve never hidden a day in my life! shouts the lake. The ground under the boy’s feet rumbles. Pebbles jump up and down like popping kernels. I. AM. THE LAKE!

Ahhh! The little boy gets up and turns to run. He trips on a loose rock, tumbling down and scraping his knee. Ow!

Oh dear, says the lake. I didn’t mean to— The shaking ground begins to calm, and the pebbles slowly settle. Are you all right?

The little boy stands up, keeping a hand on his knee. I’m—I’m okay. Are you really the lake?

I am.

I’ve never met a talking lake, he thinks. So, all this time you could hear me?

I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?

The boy giggles and puts his hands on his hips. No, I guess not. I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was listening. I like coming here. My father used to bring me here all the time.

I know.

Oh. Right.

I don’t mind listening. I’ve heard many before you, and I’ll hear many after you. But you shouldn’t keep waiting for your father. He’s not coming back.

The little boy clenches his fingers into a tight fist. Don’t say that. You don’t know.

I do. I am tied to many streams that flow through the Earth. I hear whispers from faraway places. Your father is gone, little one. I’m sorry.

Stop it! The boy pushes himself up to stand. I liked you better when you were quiet. He turns and runs until the pain in his