Fragments Gallery
The Storyteller: The Waltz (Part 1)
"A story! We want a story!"
The Storyteller slowly opens one eye. In front of him stands a small horde of eager children all staring up at him. He yawns and opens the other eye. So much for his nap.
"Which story would you like to hear?" he asks stifling another yawn.
The children immediately begin to yell out suggestions, their small voices mixing together so that their recommendations become incomprehensible. Their parents grin from the back of the room. This choosing of the story had become a ritual and they all knew what came next.
The Storyteller put a hand up and quickly the children quieted.
"Please. One at a time."
The children were all silent for a moment, all of them unwilling to speak out, and then one girl spoke up.
"Can we hear The Waltz?" she asks, "You haven't said that one in a long time."
The Storyteller nods slowly, "I can tell that story. Everyone take your places around the fire pit and we will get started."
The children rush to the fire pit as one of the parents set about lighting the fire. Before long the small hall was silent but for the crackle of the flames. Still the Storyteller didn't begin; instead he watches the smoke curl up towards the hole cut in the ceiling.
Eventually he takes a breath and begins to speak.
"In a far off land there is a legend of a ball. This ball is special, for only the most beautiful people of a certain age in the land were allowed to attend. Once every year invitations were sent across the lands, and in the midwinter the invitations were answered as the guests flocked to the castle. The castle was said to be the most elegant structure in the known kingdoms. It was said to be built of crystal and at night the interior was lit with fey lights which glowed magnificently through the crystalline walls."
The Storyteller pauses for a moment to take a drink from the mug resting on the ground beside his chair. He carefully places the mug back on the floor at his side before he continues.
"In one small village a young man received such an invitation, of course he was honoured and astounded that those at the palace thought so highly of him. So of course he accepted. His younger sister was not as impressed by the honour bestowed upon her brother. She had a feeling that something was terribly wrong and she begged him not to go. But he laughed at her fears and when winter came he bade her and his family goodbye. Before he left he took his sisters hand and promised that he would return before the winter’s longest night. The night came and passed and yet her brother did not return. The moon went through another full cycle as she waited anxiously for him. Still he did not return."
The children listen carefully, their wide eyes glittering in the firelight. The Storyteller has an aura around him, a tremor to his words, which seems to hold their attention.
"A week after the second cycle of the moon since her brother left the young girl made her choice. She packed her bags and set off in pursuit of her brother. After several weeks of travel she found herself at the edge of a valley looking down at the castle. It was as beautiful as the stories claimed. The lights on the interior of the castle glittered in the darkness giving the whole valley a magical appearance."
The Storyteller paused as the fire cracked and one of the parents rushed to add more wood to the fire. The Storyteller waits patiently for all to still once more but then instead of continuing he frowns as a thought occurs to him.
"Before I go on, is it not time for dinner?"
The children shake their heads but the parents nod.
"Very well. We can continue this after we eat, hurry and be back soon."
The children unwillingly filed out of the hall followed by their parents; within moments the Storyteller was alone. His eyelids slide down once more.