The little one says, "Tell me another one!" But first I have to take a break. So I do. But then I discover that actually, I don't like having to tell another one. So I tell her so, and she says, "How about telling me a brand new one! that you never told anybody... a secret one..." So I do.
Once there was a travelling wizard. And she was so tired. She was ready to stop travelling, but she didn't know where would be a good place for her. She had been so many places! Now she was ready for one place.
But it had to be a place that would feel good to be for a long, long, time.
She thought about settling down in China. In China there were places in the mountains where wizards lived who were a little like her. They were very beautiful mountains where no one would bother her, and she could be very quiet. That sounded good. ...But not quite good.
Even if there might be dragons there. (Because dragons and wizards do go together.)
The trouble was, it was too much all the same. And she knew she wouldn't like that after a while. So then she thought about a place she knew where the desert, and the grassland, and the forest, and the mountains, all came together. There was a small river there too. It was a secret place that hardly anybody knew about. Would that be the right place?
No. It would not. It was only the second place, and everyone knows you only get it right on the third try. (That's how come I have to tell you three stories. So I'd better tell you the second one right now, or this one won't come out right. And it's supposed to, because it's the last one.)
So here's the second story:
There was once a woman who had a candle. And every week she would light it on Friday night. Always the same.
But it was the biggest magic of all, because even though it was always exactly the same, it wasn't. It was just like hearing the same story over and over and over, and you never get tired of hearing it again.
It was like that, but better.
And one day, the woman started wondering how come stories, and candles, and songs, could be like that?
And now I can finish the third story. The travelling magician went to live in the land where stories and candles and songs come from. (And paintings, too.)
And she was always very happy there.
And this really is the end.
At least, I hope it is.
Would you like to know
where this story came from
This material © 2002 by Kye Nelson. All rights reserved.