In one of my classes, Art of the Printed Book, we recently had a collaborative book project. Each student came up with a fable or parable (written by themselves or someone else), and we used photopolymer sheets for printing. It's a complicated process that I'd rather not explain here, but to be brief, it's another way to print on old-fashioned presses, without using lead type. One aim of the project was to study a  19th or 20th century book artist, and use some aspect of their work in the design of our own pages.  We each had four pages at our disposal, and the finished product (a book of everyone's work) is absolutely amazing in its creativity. I decided to go ahead and write my own tale, though I very rarely write anything that's not non-fiction or in response to an essay prompt. I also illustrated it myself, using Eric Gill's work as my inspiration. I'm not sure how to include illustrations here, but I hope you enjoy the story!

The Tale of the Ladybug

Timmy felt the prick of small legs crawling on his hand. He screamed and flailed, tossing the tiny ladybug into the air. Timmy’s grandpa laughed kindly. “There’s no reason to be afraid of ladybugs. They’re a farmer’s best friend, after all.” Pulling Timmy onto his lap, he said, “Let me tell you a story.” 

“A long time ago, before my father was born, and before his father was born, a ladybug lived in a forest, high in the mountains. Her name was Nellie, and one day she decided that she would like to see more of the world. So she packed up her bags, said good-bye to her family and friends, and headed off to discover the lands beyond the woods. 

“Nellie flew for days, crossing over lakes, plains, rivers, and forests. As the land turned the golden color of ripe wheat beneath her, she noticed a thunderstorm moving quickly from the west. She knew that to avoid being thrown to earth by the rain, she had to find safety—fast! She scanned the ground below her, looking for something—anything—that she could take refuge under. Coming upon an animal that looked like her neighbors from the mountains, she called out, ‘Cousin, please help me! I will perish if the storm overtakes me!’ The goat—for that is what he was—replied, ‘The creatures who feed me and walk on two legs have built a shelter out of dead trees. I’ll take you there, and no harm shall come to you.’  

“Thanking the goat, Nellie followed him into a log building half-filled with dried hay, barely making it inside the doors before the storm hit. Nellie and the goat chatted for hours while the storm raged outside, until it was time for the goat to be fed. The farmer walked in with his head hanging low. With a sigh, he began to talk to the goat, ‘Another crop may be ruined. Not from the storm; the rain is welcome. The aphids, however, are devouring all that I have planted. If I don’t get rid of them, I am ruined.’ Just then, he glanced up and saw Nellie. ‘Well, what have we here?’ he asked. ‘You certainly aren’t one of those devilish pests.’ She replied, ‘Sir, I call myself a ladybug, and to thank you for the shelter your structure has given me, I would gladly rid your farm of the harmful insects.’ The farmer was overjoyed when he heard this, and gratefully accepted her offer.