The Victim waited, barely breathing, excited. This was it. He was finally going to understand. No more living aimlessly, no more obsession. He would truly know, through the stories he was told.
Once, the Storyteller began, there was a man, named Jonathan. In his life, he eventually met a woman named Larissa. They were attracted to each other, and in turn had a son, named-
"Stop." the Victim said.
What is it?
"Not that story," the Victim hissed. "I know that one already. It doesn't matter any more. I want to understand. I do not need to understand the things I already know."
You wanted to understand. I was going to let you understand the greatest mystery of them all.
"Nevertheless," the Victim said, staring out into the void, "not that story. Another story. Parables, that sort of thing. That sort of story."
A curious way to understand.
"I have named you Storyteller, and so you shall tell stories. I do not want you to be the riddler, or the preacher, or the professor. You are the Storyteller."
Yet a story may contain all these things, and you would not care.
The Victim was silent. He felt he had made his point clear.
Very well. It is such an easy thing, to tell the tale that is already repeated.
And then the Storyteller began, and the void of ignorance was lit up with the beauty of life and knowledge.
 Nocturnal Emissions · Sat Apr 12, 2008 @ 11:57pm · 2 Comments |
