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31_days2007-11-19 07:01 pm
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-11-19 07:01 pm
[Nov 19] [Jim Henson's The Storyteller] How To Be Heroes
Title: How To Be Heroes
Day/Theme: 19. you preferred life plain
Series:Jim Henson's The Storyteller
Character/Pairing: The Storyteller
Rating: PG
“Didn’t you?” The Storyteller’s voice was soft. “You thought adventures were best left to heroes, that fairy tales were for children, and that never breaking the rules meant you would never be punished.”
“How then,” he asked, his voice fading to a whisper. “Do you explain what has happened to you now? You are lost here, beset by pains you didn’t see coming, without any idea of the path to take or the weapon to choose, or how to be kind to the stranger that might give you the help you needed.”
The man glared at the Storyteller as if anger would keep the tears back.
“What do you know?” he snarled. He hadn’t noticed the Storyteller sitting in the dark doorway until the voice drifted out of the shadows. He wasn’t afraid, even when he saw the Dog. He was hurting too badly to be afraid.
“I know of children suffering from curses,” the Storyteller said. “Of parents, desperate for help, begging favors from wise-women. Of princesses who were shorn of their hair and mirrors that told entirely too much.”
The man was quiet then. There was no way the ragged old homeless man could know that his daughter had leukemia, that he had had to run out of St. Nicholas‘ rather than see her laying there like that another minute, that the nuns were smiling sadly instead of talking to her.
“The stories tell us the way,” The Storyteller said in the silence. “Without them, we don’t know how to be heroes, how to solve cruel riddles, or how to make it to the ending, happy or not.”
“There isn’t a story that can help me,” the man said, wiping an eye with the back of his knuckle.
“Perhaps,” said the Storyteller, getting to his feet. “It isn’t you who needs one.” He looked up over the trees to where the lights of the hospital were visible, then begin to shuffle away. The Dog followed. The man watched them go.
They were nearly a block away before they heard his feet running after them.
“Told ya,” the Dog muttered.
“Told you.” The Storyteller's smile was brief, and he pretended to fuss with his coat to give the man a chance to catch up.
Day/Theme: 19. you preferred life plain
Series:Jim Henson's The Storyteller
Character/Pairing: The Storyteller
Rating: PG
“Didn’t you?” The Storyteller’s voice was soft. “You thought adventures were best left to heroes, that fairy tales were for children, and that never breaking the rules meant you would never be punished.”
“How then,” he asked, his voice fading to a whisper. “Do you explain what has happened to you now? You are lost here, beset by pains you didn’t see coming, without any idea of the path to take or the weapon to choose, or how to be kind to the stranger that might give you the help you needed.”
The man glared at the Storyteller as if anger would keep the tears back.
“What do you know?” he snarled. He hadn’t noticed the Storyteller sitting in the dark doorway until the voice drifted out of the shadows. He wasn’t afraid, even when he saw the Dog. He was hurting too badly to be afraid.
“I know of children suffering from curses,” the Storyteller said. “Of parents, desperate for help, begging favors from wise-women. Of princesses who were shorn of their hair and mirrors that told entirely too much.”
The man was quiet then. There was no way the ragged old homeless man could know that his daughter had leukemia, that he had had to run out of St. Nicholas‘ rather than see her laying there like that another minute, that the nuns were smiling sadly instead of talking to her.
“The stories tell us the way,” The Storyteller said in the silence. “Without them, we don’t know how to be heroes, how to solve cruel riddles, or how to make it to the ending, happy or not.”
“There isn’t a story that can help me,” the man said, wiping an eye with the back of his knuckle.
“Perhaps,” said the Storyteller, getting to his feet. “It isn’t you who needs one.” He looked up over the trees to where the lights of the hospital were visible, then begin to shuffle away. The Dog followed. The man watched them go.
They were nearly a block away before they heard his feet running after them.
“Told ya,” the Dog muttered.
“Told you.” The Storyteller's smile was brief, and he pretended to fuss with his coat to give the man a chance to catch up.