Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The Story Teller: ~~~First Song~~~

Ha. No.
{then, like, tell.}
[Emnia, you do owe us a story, or something. You did take us here I do-- do-- ACHOO!]
Get under cover!
(whoa! Look out! Emnia!)
Ow. Thanks, Ashen. I really liked that strand of hair.
(Sorry. Didn't mean to yank it THAT hard.)
Well, you did.
{Help! Ah! Ah! Fire!}
Oh, here. *pulls water from air, puts out papers on fire.*
{Like, thanks!}
(Huh. Now, please tell us a tale, Mrs. Story-teller.)
No. Ha. No. No, way, no.
{Please? Like, they've got a, like, point.}
[Yes. *big sniff* God bless me.]
Wow! That's really how you type that?
(hey, I'm doing my best!)
(Now how about that story? For the blog, of course.)
Well... I suppose. What type?
{The good type.}
[One that will not fasinate us, but all.]
Umm... How about the one of Lousy and Derk?
{NO! That one can be lost in, like, all of history, for like, all we care. Like, invent one!}
Hm. Sure.

Once, way back when stories were all for teaching and none were for the joy of words, there was a young princess name Ashsa. Now Ashsa was a good girl, but no one liked her. When she turned eight, her family betrothed her to a prince, and only a month later the betrothal was broken.
Now, it was not because she was ugly, or unpolite, but because she had wild thoughts, ones where happy endings were not uncommon, and her tounge was always telling these stories to anyone near her. The prince soon said after his stay at Ashsa's castle that she was too much.
By Ashsa's twelth birthday, she had learned how to control her tounge, but her mind was always thinking of how words would sound if they were happier. Her lectures by then were only how words were corupted. How they hurt. But she never could get that into her head. Everything was about good words, bad words, and every night she sneaked into the library and stole a grammar book and taught herself to write, she learned grammar, and how to tell stories as if it were nothing.
Whenever Ashsa went for a ride on her horse, she would tell him stories. But even he seemed to know that they were forbidden and he threw her off his back. Of course, this was just another thing that stood in her way of story telling.
But this never stopped her. Her voice was her's, and that was the one thing she couldn't ever give up.

Once and a while,
A gift is bestowed.
A child is given a name.

But maybe that name,
Has a bit more to say,
If only one would listen.

Maybe a tale,
Of knights on steeds,
Would be written to all hearts.

Maybe a dragon,
Would take a maiden,
Only wanting her dinner from thy start.

Maybe a break from old life,
Would save a sole or two,
Keeping us busy with happy minds,
Could save me or you.

So, read on friends,
And maybe you will be,
A spinner of tales,
A lover of words,
A maiden pure of heart.

From: Kiera's Peoms 2007
Singer From Origanal Book:
Elly and Frieda (Imposter and Heart Breakers)


  1. Thank you. Emnia and Ashen have a very hard time doing it... I think that they may swap, I don't really know.
    I sometimes use their acount. SH! Don't tell! They'd have my hair!
    And yes, they are real... And we love 'em! (meaning the imagionary people that help me. A.K.A. book people!)