The Storyteller

This is the beginning of a story I resonate with personally.

Back when I was still little, I was a storyteller. A story collector. A reader.

I would always be on the lookout for stories, whether they were folktales from my parents or ghost stories that my friends were always raving about.

I also loved to play with stories, weaving and knitting them, turning them into beautiful, intricate magic that was harmonious to the ears. 

My favorite story source of all wasn’t my own creation or an oral story from my neighbors. It was the storyteller's tent in Honey Dukes amusement park, where even the air smelled of stories, magical, fresh, with a faint smell of cinnamon of course.

The amusement park was just around the corner from my home, so every time I finished all my homework I would skitter there, running past all the dollar coasters and merry-go-rounds, aiming for the tent in the middle of the park. The best part? It was free. 

Every day I would come running home from the amusement park, eyes shining, prepared to tell the story to my sisters.

I would sit on the bottom level of our triple bunk, with my favorite teddy bear in my lap, and start to enthusiastically entertain them with my stories. Sometimes talking about princesses running off into a magical kingdom, other times, I would tell in a low voice, about the poor children who had to survive off garbage scraps, finally using their wonderful voice to earn a living. 

I loved to make hand gestures and exaggerated expressions that could always get my sisters laughing until they clutched their stomachs, exhausted from smiling.

I haven’t made anyone laugh like that in a while.

And when I couldn’t hear from others, I would go and find the stories. 

We used to have a library in our town.

Red bricks, fairy lights, and thousands of books.

I used to go there every evening when I was young. I even had my own reserved spot there. A couch by the windows, overlooking the deep blue sea beyond.

But, It’s been a few years since I’ve been on that couch. In the vibrant library where everyone was friendly. In that small town by the seaside.

The one I used to call home.