Fragments Gallery
The Storyteller: Eternal Life
The longhouse was dim when the children began to file in. They gathered in a circle around the dark fire pit and began to excitedly whisper. After all the kids had come in the parents began to enter as well. Most of them found seats while the others gathered around the fire pit to bring some warmth to the room. Soon enough a fire blazed, its warmth spreading through the room. In the light the Storyteller is revealed.
He slept silently in his chair at the edge of the circle around the fire. A crystal glass half full of amber liquid rests on the arm of his chair, his hand protectively lying on top. The sudden light causes him to stir. His eyes slide open and he smiles to see them all gathered around.
"My friends," he begins, "Is it that time already?"
"Yes!" cries out a chorus of young voices.
"Do we have a story you to hear?" The elderly Storyteller looks around, his voices trails off as he finishes, "My memory isn't what it used to be…"
"They hadn't decided yet," Says one of the parents, "We were going to do requests today."
"Ah yes…" the Storyteller toyed with the glass beneath his hand before raising it to his lips, "Hands please, tell me what you wish to hear."
Immediately the hands of all of the children in the room shot up.
"Oh dear!" Exclaimed the storyteller as he looked around, "So many! Very well I must choose."
He pointed to a young woman seated beyond the fire.
"Eternal life!" She called out.
The Storyteller stared at her in surprise for a moment before asking, "I told that story once many years ago. How do you know of it?"
"My Grandfather heard the story when you told it," she said shyly, "I have always wanted to hear it, but you have never asked me until now."
"Very well," the Storyteller took another sip from his glass before setting it on the arm of his chair, "Eternal Life it is."
"Many years ago," the Storyteller's voice took on a deeper, more powerful tone, "When I was little more than a boy I happened across an old man telling his story at the village inn. I knew this man; he was a traveller, a peddler, who came by my village often. He always brought with him news from far off lands. The story he was telling that day was one of wonder. He spoke of an enchanted forest which at night stayed as light as day. He called it a forest of eternal light. The peddler said that the forest was no more than half a day’s journey from my village; in fact he had come across it by accident and had only just come from there. The men he was talking to had laughed and scoffed upon hearing the story. They did not believe."
"Why not?" asked a little boy.
"The men thought they knew how the world worked," Answered the Storyteller, "They had no time for such stories that challenged what they thought possible. I however was different; I was younger with a better imagination. I could believe in the impossible.”
Thunder cracked startling everyone in the longhouse. The Storyteller noted this with a frown. “Figures” he muttered before continuing.
“The peddler stared at the men as they walked away, sadness in his eyes. He was hurt you see, hurt that the men couldn’t see the significance of what he had seen. He was hurt that they couldn't imagine it possible. It was then that his eyes fell upon me. I told him that I believed and he smiled at me and told me more. He told me of the tree at the center of the forest which was so large it dwarfed all other trees he had seen. He told me of the smooth pond below the tree which reflected the tree and the skies above. And he spoke of the glow which surrounded the hidden woods. It was for that glow which he had named the woods the forest of eternal light. He told me the trees were lit as though by fireflies, except none of the insects lived in the grove. The light came from the trees themselves. He had stayed in the forest for a while before regretfully moving on. He hoped to return there one day when time allowed. He smiled sadly at me, patted me on the head and moved on. That was the last time I saw the peddler. He never returned again."
The Storyteller paused to wet his throat. He looked at everyone around the fire; all of their eyes stared back. The focus of the entire room was on him. He set down his glass and continued.
"I, of course, decided to take a trip to see this forest with my own eyes. The next morning I packed myself a meal and set off for the mountains. I knew the way, as my parents had often taken me hunting with them, but still it took me longer than I had thought it would to get there. I arrived in the early evening."
"Didn't your parents ask where you were going?" interjected one of the children across the fire from him.
"I didn't tell them I was going," chuckled the Storyteller, "Something that none of you are going to do."
The parents laughed and exchanged glances; they knew the truth of that statement.
"Anyways, I found the forest just where the peddler had said it would be. It was on the edge of the mountains. Behind a waterfall there was a cleft in the rock which one could pass through. The fissure was so well concealed I would not have found it had I not known it to be there. Still even looking for it the sun had set and the stars emerged by the time I found the entry. I travelled a short way through the fissure before coming out in the forest.”
Lightning flashed and thunder cracked again from outside. The storm was growing worse.
“Upon emerging from that fissure I found myself standing in a small forest completely surrounded by the mountains. The only access was the cleft I had just emerged from. It was a magical place; when I first saw the light from the trees reflected in the pond below I fell in love. Everything was just as he said it would be. The trees glowing as though covered in fireflies and yet no fireflies to be seen. The pond reflected everything, from the grey clouds and stars above to the lights from the trees," The Storyteller's voice took on a tone of awe, "Setting eyes upon it I knew that it was not just a forest of light, it was a forest of life. I thought of it was a forest of eternal life. Everything there seemed so vibrant, timeless and alive… how could it be anything else? I stood there staring around myself in wonder for several minutes."
The Storyteller coughed and his voice wavered.
"It was not to last. Rain started to fall as I stood there. At first it made the small forest even more beautiful. The droplets falling on the surface of the pond and the ripples they caused created a magnificent light show. Then the lightning started. The first bolt struck the gigantic tree in the center of the forest. I thought it was fine, until I saw the smoke. Oh how the tree seemed to scream in my ears as it burned. As the tree blazed the lights began to flicker and fade from the other trees. The fire spread. I found myself running for the fissure; I had to escape even though I hated myself for abandoning the forest. However I had seen forest fires before. I knew there was nothing I could do. I waited out the night in the fissure and the next morning I ventured back out into the forest. The rain still fell gently around me as I stared around in dismay. All that remained were blackened husks of trees. The forest was gone."
The Storyteller sighed as he drained his glass.
"That place of wonder, such beauty... Destroyed by a fire," A tear ran down the man's face, "I searched for another forest of eternal life for many, many years. Never did I find it."
The fire crackled merrily in the center of the room as all stared on.