The Storyteller

She liked telling stories. The kind that left her listeners hanging between a certainty and an irresistible suspense. She liked leaving them half ecstatic, half yearning for more. That didn't make her a bad person though. She liked to leave a story in between so it could hang mid air among her people, giving them something fascinating to think about while she worked up the next move of her characters. Her audience would inevitably wait for more because they knew she gave a beautiful ending to each of her tale.

Like her stories, she was a dreamy creature. It seemed as though when she walked out in the sunlight, the light went straight inside and through her. Some people swore there were moments when they caught her giving off a dull, a strange light; her lips would curve into a lazy smile that she seemed unaware of. It was the beautiful sunlight she absorbed by day, some said. But the wise old woman of the village said it was a kind of "goodness" that shone softly in the dark. Whatever it was, what we do know is that it was something only she possessed.

Ever since she was little, she loved listening to stories of the stars and worlds beyond, of things unknown to most people. She wondered how it was that her father knew all of these strange lands and new people, of difficult languages and magical creatures. No one really believed him but her. She believed in every word he told her. She learnt early on that to be a good storyteller, you needed to be someone clear at heart and see the world with a different eye.

Her stories didn't revolve around handsome princes and far off kingdoms. Like her father, her mission was show people how strange and beautiful this world was. She wove her tales around magic and fantasy, and ended them with a touch of hope. Too much hope can be a dangerous thing, so she made sure she left them with a safe amount of this magical hope to keep them going. Little children ought to keep their eyes on the finer things in life, she said; things like hope, pursuit of happiness and a keen sense of wonder.

The children loved her and they often followed her stealthily when she up the mountains bare foot to think over her stories. She found solace immensely relaxing and said she developed her characters better that way. She created vivid characters that spoke to her and taught her the kind of things father used to tell when he was alive. They said they knew her father and had chosen her to be their storyteller because she fully understood the legacy her father had imparted to her. Sometimes, they brought her father along with them for visits. Those were some of her most favorite times. She sat there with him till evening and he would sing the songs fairies and elves sung deep in the forest.

The storyteller's life was itself uneventful, but that she made other people's lives eventful by her animated stories was something people remembered many, many years after her. No one knows what exactly happened to her but the most prevalent story is that she went away with fairies and elves. She was a beautiful girl with a beautiful heart who gave many stories to people to fall in love with. She just went on to be a beautiful story herself. Even now, after thousands of years have passed, children who go up that mountain have often reported meeting a sweet girl with skin as radiant as the sun. She sits next to them and tell them beautiful stories of wondrous things and magical creatures. She sings like the fairies and goes away before the sun comes down, leaving a little something for every child who visits. 


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