The Sun and the Moon - Korean

My name is Haenim, and my warm light now shines on your days. But long, long ago, I was just a girl living in a cozy cottage with my little brother, Dalnim, and our loving mother. Our home was nestled in the green Korean hills, surrounded by whispering pine trees. Our days were filled with the sweet, nutty smell of our mother’s delicious rice cakes, which she sold at the village market just over the hill. We were so happy, but our peaceful world was about to be shattered by a fearsome tiger with a very clever and cruel plan. This is the ancient Korean story of The Sun and the Moon. Dalnim and I would spend our afternoons playing games, our ears listening for the familiar sound of our mother’s footsteps on the path. We couldn’t wait for her to return with stories from the market and a warm hug just for us. But on this day, the sun began to set, and she was still not home.

As dusk painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, our mother hurried along the familiar path. But that evening, a great shadow fell across her way. A huge tiger with eyes like glowing coals blocked the path. “Give me a rice cake, or I will not let you pass,” he growled, his voice a low rumble. Our mother, trembling with fear but desperate to get home to us, handed him one of her precious cakes. She hurried on, but at the next bend in the path, the tiger was waiting for her again. “Another rice cake,” he demanded. This happened again and again, until her basket was completely empty. Finally, with a terrible grin, the tiger said, “Now that the cakes are gone, I will have your clothes.” Piece by piece, she gave him what he asked, her heart pounding with terror. Back in our cottage, the room grew darker and colder. Dalnim and I huddled together, our simple dinner untouched. “Where is she?” Dalnim whispered, his voice small. I tried to be brave for him, but a cold knot of worry was tightening in my stomach. The familiar night sounds of crickets seemed to have gone silent, as if the whole world was holding its breath.

Suddenly, a loud knock echoed through our quiet cottage, making us both jump. “Children, it’s Mother! Let me in!” a voice called. But it wasn’t our mother’s gentle, sweet voice. This voice was deep and scratchy, like stones grinding together. My heart began to beat like a drum. Something was very wrong. “Mother?” I called out, pressing my ear to the wooden door. “Why is your voice so rough tonight?” The voice from outside coughed. “Oh, my dears, it’s just from the chilly wind on the hill. My throat is quite sore.” The answer didn’t feel right. “Let us see your hands then,” I said, peeking through a tiny crack in the door. A hand slid into view, but it was covered in coarse, orange fur and had long, sharp claws! I gasped. “Your hands!” I cried. “Why are they so rough?” The voice outside chuckled, a truly horrible sound. “From washing so many vegetables in the cold stream, my child. Now open the door!” But we knew. We knew that was not our mother. It was the hungry tiger, wearing her clothes and trying to trick his way in to gobble us up.

Pure terror gave us wings. Dalnim and I bolted for the back door and scrambled into the cool night air. Our only hope was the tallest tree in our yard, a sturdy old pine standing by the well. We climbed as fast as our trembling legs could carry us, hiding among the thick branches. CRASH! The front door splintered as the furious tiger burst in. He was fooled for a moment by our reflections in the well water, but then he spotted us. With a roar, he began to climb, but he couldn't get a grip. "Use the axe to chop footholds!" I shouted, trying to trick him again, but this time my idea worked against us! He chopped his way up, getting closer and closer. As his claws scratched the branch below us, we closed our eyes and prayed with all our might. “Oh, heavens, please save us!” In that desperate moment, a magnificent, golden rope lowered silently from the starry sky. We grabbed on tight and were lifted up, up, up, away from the snarling tiger and into the safety of the clouds.

Below us, the greedy tiger looked up and saw how we had escaped. “Send a rope for me, too!” he bellowed at the sky. A rope did come down, but it was rotten and frayed. As soon as the heavy tiger grabbed on and began to climb, it snapped! He fell with a great crash into a field of sorghum, and they say that is why sorghum stalks are stained red to this very day. Up in the heavens, a kind spirit told us we were safe and had a new purpose. I, Haenim, was to become the brilliant Sun, and my brother, Dalnim, the gentle Moon. But I looked at the vast, inky darkness of space and confessed, “I am afraid of the dark.” My brave little brother immediately spoke up. “Then let us trade, sister. I will guard the night as the Moon, so you can be the bright Sun that warms the day.” And so we remain, a sister and brother, forever lighting your world. This ancient story reminds us that even in the darkest of times, sibling love, courage, and cleverness can help us find the light and become something more wonderful than we could ever imagine.