The Story Teller
(A Rise of the Guardians Fanfic)
Indeed, in their grotesque grace, in their quaint humor, in their trust in simpler virtues, in their insight in cruder vices, in their innocence, stories are as little children. They are as little children, and for the reason they will ever find a home in the heaven of little children's soul.
That was how I think of stories, of how they need home and how the children need them too. I was lying on my flat stomach against the bed, it was a day like any other day or at least I think it was. I was writing an essay for my English Literature, it was about any characters or people, fantasy or truth. But I believe in some things that are believed to be nothing more than just an idea, real. I heard Joy, my dog entered my room. Joy has the color of a cow with a few outlines of black and 2 feet tall. I felt Joy jumped on the bed and started licking my arms.
I let out a giggle encouraging her to go on.
"Stop, Joy! Stop! Stop! I'll go now, thanks for reminding me" I said as I got out of the bed and pet her head.
I slid my jacket on; it was a cold weather out there. I mean why wouldn't it be? It's winter. I went downstairs and headed out. Everything was covered by snow but it wasn't snowing. The children were probably tired from ice skating, so I ran in a hurried way. I've always loved running maybe that was because it was one of the things I'm good at. By the time I reached the old Billy's cottage, my heart was pounding fast and I was sweating. Running made me feel warm and this way I'm immune against the cold for a short while.
"You're late!" a high pitched voice said.
"I'm sorry...I was working on… my essay." I turned around explaining while panting between words.
The wind picked up cooling the warmth I'm feeling.
"So did you build a fire yet?" It was a ridiculous question, I would've seen the smoking if they did.
"Not yet, we were gonna light it when you arrive" The girl named Katie replied.
I was pulled along by the Katie at the back of the cottage, towards a pile of branches. The cottage was owned by Billy Scott and I come almost everyday for the story telling with his grandkids and some kids in town.
As I approached, they started a fire that was small at first and then it became larger.
We danced around the fire for a bit then I let them go to their places huddling with each other around the fire. I took off my coat and boots, I'm sensitive to the cold but I can't do it right if I feel so trapped.
"What story should I tell you about?" I asked them meeting their eyes for a moment.
"Not Cinderella! It's for girls! Yuck!" a boy said sticking out his tongue.
"And I bet you want something like Aliens! They're not even real." A girl argued.
"You'd be surprised." I let out a chuckle; the fire crackling seems to be agreeing with me.
I exhaled and a puff of breath was visible.
The boy and the girl turned at me now. Now the attention is on me, I started.
"We can't say Aliens are not real, they have the possibility to exist and Cinderella has too. And who I'm about to tell you is someone you've never heard of before but that doesn't mean that he's not real." I walked a few steps around the fire, taking in the picture of their hushed but eager faces, and the way the orange glow of the fire touch them.
I paused.