Storyteller

I remember when we first met old friend. I remember how you picked me out from a crowd and how we connected instantly. We were both young and just knew that the two of us would be swell. You took me back home and I entered your little world with fascination. It was your warm embrace that told me that I was to become such a dear part of it. And that’s how it began. You racing towards me and holding me with bated breath. And I knew exactly what you wanted. For I was the storyteller always weaving a new adventure for you.

I might have never told you this, but I enjoyed sharing those stories with you for there is no one who would immerse themselves so deeply in a tale as you. You were so amazed by them, and forever riveted to know what happened next. You championed the heroes and stood staunchly by their side. You rode the highs and the lows and laughed and cried with them. You called me magic. But really come to think of it, it was you who brought the magic to my stories. It was you who brought the brought life to my words and held fast with hope when all seemed to be lost. I remember when you asked me to share my stories with your friends it was you who wore your heart on your sleeve and fashioned that passion for our travels.

But time went on, and slowly we drifted apart. I was probably forgotten and had come to accept our brief time together as my intended share. Till one day, the lights came back on and you swept the dust off me. I was taken aback to see the changes in you. My! Had you grown and changed. You looked so much like one of those heroes that you once championed. And slowly I see faint recollection turn into a fond smile on your face, as you start to remember the fun that we had. You turn around to face a younger version of you and say, “Come here. Let me show you Magic.” Then in that known touch you once again ask me to share one of my tales. And I do. Just to see your look-alike fill with a passion much like yours. She reaches out to touch the gloss of my illustrations in wonderment. And as she turns my pages to read on, I know that she too is an open book. Just like you.

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