In the lands of Gainsar, where my fathers lived, there was a tale of a man named Hun who ate his village. It was a simple story, but it scared us sure enough. Here is how it went.
In the village of Tambo lived a man named Hun. He was a fur trader, and he killed fox as bear kills man. So, he came into town one day to sell his furs, but he was met by a man. The man pulled a knife on him, and he died quickly, but not before saying, "Fimo Curse you". The man laughed.
The elderly lady entered her granddaughter`s bedroom where the young girl lay warm under her covers, unable to sleep. She rolled onto her back when she heard her grandmother take a seat on the small wooden chair that sat next to her bed. She looked at the clock that sat on the dresser at the end of her bed. It was past her bedtime and she suddenly felt nervous and worried that her grandmother would scold her for not being asleep yet.
"Yes grandma?" she asked.
"You are having trouble sleeping. Would you like to hear a story?" she replied.
The man went to bed. He counted the skins. There were only 20. He sighed. This man was no good at his job. He then had a good night's sleep. He then woke up, but something was off. He had a cold. No problem, he'd just sell his pelts. He went to town to sell one. When he got there, he saw a woman crying. He approached her, and she looked at him. It was Hun's mother. She was weeping. She yelled, "NOW THE FIMO UPON YOU!"
He jumped. Whatever the fimo was, it was an extremely malevolent, evil curse.
The young girl nodded her head and so her grandmother began,
"Long ago, when I was very young, I was very sick."
"What happened grandma?" the girl interrupted.
"I will tell you dear. I had a very serious illness that I was lucky to live through. Now don`t be worried dear, I am alright now. But back then, I was lucky to have a friend to help me through it all. That friend of mine was pretty and sweet like you but, of course not as much. That friend was not a girl like you though. She was a butterfly."
"A butterfly!?" the girl suddenly became very excited. She had taken quite an interest in insects and loved to watch butterflies in the spring.
"Yes dear." Her grandmother replied. "She was a real butterfly. Just like the ones you like to watch in the garden in the spring. But this butterfly was different. She could speak. Just like you and me. And when she spoke, it was a high-pitched beautiful sound that I loved to hear."
"I want a speaking butterfly, Grandma!" the girl shouted with excitement.
"Shh. Quiet dear. And one day you may get your beautiful, speaking butterfly."
"Now, as the butterfly visited me more and more, I felt better. I was happy and my sickness began to go away. Even after spring had passed, she still came to me every day. So, soon, I was completely cured from my sickness and on the day I was to leave the hospital, the butterfly came to me and landed in my palm. Now, she was very old and sadly passed away in my hand. I had given her a name and that name was Julia. You are named after her because you dear, are just like a beautiful butterfly."