《Storyteller: The Rich, The Richer, And The Abused》


 Prologue

    Soft humming could be heard and a warm summer breeze blew loose dirt in lazy tendrils across a wide expanse of flattened land. Stretching for miles in each direction, distant steep green hills outlined an unnatural square shape around this area. The hills towered above the sunken land, their precipitous inclines giving them the likeliness of walls. Flowers of seemingly every variety bloomed along their hillside. Poppies, daisies, roses, dandelions, and much more. The vibrant colors of these flowers created a stark contrast with the material present at the base of the hills.


    It was marble. Immaculate, painstakingly polished marble. The bright sun overhead reflected brilliantly off its surface. There were no impurities within the marble. Not a single speck of dirt or a granule of granite was encased in the opaque mineral. It was as if an omnipotent being had taken pure white snow and compressed it until it had hardened into a rigid material.


    At the very center of this area stood an object which was an oddity among oddities. It emerged seamlessly from the marble and protruded upwards for hundreds of meters. The hills which surrounded the area looked like mere mole hills in comparison to it. A pulsating pale blue light was emitted by it, causing the marble surrounding it to adopt a faint blue color. It was luke-warm to the touch and the mineral its rugged exterior was composed of was a translucent crystal. A strange type of liquid which was the source of the soft humming could be seen under the thin veneer of this crystal.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Standing next to this unworldly object were two people whose dull normality seemed out of place. One was an old man, weathered by the elements. His face, wrinkled and pitted, was as rugged with imperfection and his arms and legs were as thin as sticks. He wore simple cloth clothing which was grey and uncolored by dyes. His blue eyes had a startling intensity to them and he was talking intently to a small child.


    The child he was talking to was bursting with excitement but otherwise normal. Running here and there with unbridled enthusiasm, the nonstop motion of the child served to emphasize the apparent rift in age between the two. Despite this, there was a certain connection which could be sensed in the pair. This was not merely because they wore similar clothing or because they talked so intently to each other. This connection pervaded their very being. From their eyes to their arms to their legs to their movements, everything one of them did would remind any observer of the other. It was an uncanny resemblance.

 Oddity or Normality

    ¡°Hey, hey. I wanna hear a story. A stooooory.¡± A small child of about seven years in age tugged incessantly on the arm of a wizened old man.


    ¡°No. Now¡¯s not the time child.¡±


    The child pouted. ¡°You always tell me there¡¯s not enough time. Meanie.¡±


    The old man sighed. ¡°Meredith, just wait a bit longer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been waiting forever!¡±


    ¡°Then wait a little more than forever.¡± The old man laid his hand on the child¡¯s head and gave a wry smile.


    ¡°Hrmph.¡± Meredith shook the old man¡¯s hand off and turned around with much ado. Peeking to make sure that the old man was still watching, Meredith straightened his back and folded his arms. A silence stretched on for a couple of seconds¡­ and then a couple more¡­


    Finally, Meredith¡¯s energetic nature got the better of him. ¡°Oh fine! I guess I¡¯ll wait a teensy bit longer. But you¡¯ll tell me one when you get back right? Promise?¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The old man chuckled. ¡°I promise.¡±


    Meredith looked suspiciously at the old man. ¡°Pinky promise?¡±


    The old man¡¯s face crinkled into wrinkles as he smiled. ¡°Yes, yes. I pinky promise Meredith.¡± Meredith stuck out his pinky and the old man hooked it with his own.


    ¡°Okay then. You better come back.¡±


    ¡°When have I not?¡±


    Meredith paused in contemplation before lighting up. ¡°You¡¯re right! See you soon.¡± He held his arms out expectantly and the old man lifted him up with surprisingly little effort. He spun Meredith around a couple of times before setting him onto the ground. ¡°I¡¯ll be off now. Be good while I¡¯m gone.¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡±


    The old man started his trek across the marble landscape, and Meredith watched him attentively. However, as his figure grew distant, Meredith¡¯s attention soon turned elsewhere.  Plopping himself down on the ground, he began to sift through the thousands of books strewn around him. The books had titles like The Complete History of Trolfador and War Unto War Upon the Continent of Worgs. None of these seemed to appease Meredith, though, as he tossed more and more of them behind him. His face turned into an impatient frown as the stack of rejected books grew larger until one particularly colorful book caught his eye. It was a leather bound one inch thick book titled, The Rich, the Richer and the Abused. He broke out into a grin as he read the title. Tucking the book under his arm, he carefully navigated his way through the dunes of books until he reached his favorite reading place, the base of the gigantic crystal which towered above any and all surrounding land. He snuggled himself into a crevice and cracked open the book.