Fragments Gallery
The Storyteller: A Life's Work
"We want a story," says a small voice from near the door.
With a grimace the old bard opens his tired eyes to regard the young speaker and her companions. There were three of them, all standing in a row near the entry way to his home. He himself was sitting in his favorite old rocker, its back against a wall and facing towards the entryway. Any visitors always commented that it was odd for a rocking chair to be positioned so close to the main entryway. Anytime these comments were voiced to him he merely shrugged. He just liked the chair there; there was nothing for him to explain.
"I'll be telling a story later on tonight lass, can you wait until then?"
"I can but I don't want to, I want a story now!" The young girl frowns at him as she speaks, her eyes are unhappy, almost hurt. Upon her words her friends adopted similar expressions of sadness and they stood united against him as they wordlessly demanded a story.
The old man sighs, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath.
"If I told you now then that what story would I tell the others tonight?" he asks, "I wouldn't want to ruin the story for them now would I?"
The three children's expressions grow defiant.
Seeing this the bard continues hastily, "However I could give you a hint of what is to come. Would that help you wait for the evening?"
Broad grins painting their faces the children nod.
The bard's eyes stare off into the distance for a moment as he recalls the beginning of the story, then he begins.
"There is a place in the mountains that the light rarely touches. Animals avoid this place and the humans have many legends and tales of the area. In these stories many a traveler has ventured into dark, nary a one has returned. The stories say that a creature dwells there, a creature of which we have never seen the like. It's a grotesque, massive and ferocious beast. Some say it can't die. While others say that it can't be killed."
"Why would anyone go up there?" asked one of the children, his eyes wide as he hung onto the storyteller's every word.
"I'm getting to it lad, don't rush me," the bard rubbed at his eyes with his gnarled old knuckles and then resumed his story.
"The legends told of something else up in these mountains. They told of a treasure also buried up in the dark. The legends said that the creature had come into existence to protect the treasure for all time. Of course the people of the mountains believed these legends, but travellers from outside rarely did, and often these wayfarers would try their luck at finding the treasure. None of them ever returned. Our story starts when a young traveler comes to the mountains. This traveller felt that she could find the treasure when all others had failed. But that is where I'll stop for now."
At this the children complained, but their complaints quieted at a look from the old bard.
"You can hear the rest of the story later with everyone else," said the storyteller sternly, "For now I wish to rest."
"Thank you!" cried out the children in unison as they raced for the door, eager to share what they had heard with their friends.
The storyteller smiled as they raced through the door, the last one out leaving the door wide open. With a sigh the man closed his eyes and resumed his slow rocking. There was nothing else he would rather do, he'd found his own treasure.