Saturday Snippet: The First Tale

11:47 AM

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I can still see them when I close my eyes. I can feel their small hands pulling me toward the warm glow of the evening fire. I can hear their voices, those sweet voices, begging me to tell them just one more. I remember how I would tell stories until the fire had turned to embers, but it was never enough. The children would still beg me for just one more.

Perhaps the children realized what their parents would not understand: that the stories I told were their heritage, their history. The heroes and heroines, knights and villains, royalty and peasants were not just characters of my own invention; they really lived, really breathed. Each and every one of them was a story and had a lesson for every generation.

Who am I? I am a teller of stories. I have lived as a priest, a prince, and a peasant. I have known the heights of joy and the depths of pain. I have known friendship as well as betrayal, hate as well as love. I have served but one God, who has upheld me through my whole life, even in the darkest of moments. I am Zale Kahlon.

My brother understood how important the stories I told were. That is why he has sent me here far from my beloved Taelis, charging me to write them down. This tale is only one of many to come. As my brother instructed, I will write as many of the tales of Taelis as I can in my lifetime.

When I arrived at a new village and started telling the tales to the children, I would always start with this one. I would tell them that from humble beginnings, heroes rise. Though this tale may not be of princes, kingdoms, or even of knights, it is the beginning of all other tales. Out of this tale, all others will rise.

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