the travelling wizard (and other stories)
by Kye Nelson

There is a small person sitting very close to me right now. Just now, as little people have been doing for a very long time indeed, she said to me, "Tell me a story!" And I will. But before I do, I want to tell you a secret I know.

There is such a thing as a magic story. Such a story has the power to free anyone who hears it (but only if they hear it with all their ears). Like any magic thing, we can carry a story like this with us on our adventures, and its power is always there when it is most needed--if we remember that we have it.

So here is the story I have to tell:

Once there was a travelling magician. No, she was a wizard. (I don't know why she was a wizard.) ...Oh, she was a wizard because that has wise in it.

So it was good magic.

She was a travelling wizard because... I'm not sure why because!

...Because she was beautiful! I know that sounds like a funny reason for travelling, but it's not really the reason. She was a beautiful wizard because she was the kind of wizard that travels, and she was travelling. Did that make sense?

One day she saw two bees that were trapped inside a window. They were trying so hard to get out, and she could see they were scared bees. So she opened up the window and took off the screen, and waited for the bees to go out. But they didn't.

So she took a piece of paper, and she pretended that she was a bee sheepdog, and she used the piece of paper to keep from getting stung, and she was very careful, and she made the bees go to where the open window was.

And it was really hard, because the bees were all mixed up,and they didn't think they wanted to go that way. They thought they wanted to go straight through the glass. So they were a little bit mad. But when they got to the open window, then they understood. And they flew away. And she felt almost as good as if she flew away.

And that's the end.

No it's not.

And that was magic!

Now you get to guess which part was the magic. Now it's the end.

...Maybe.

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.
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