Stories existed before anything else. They were told by old men to people who lived long, dull lives in villages located on top of tall mountains. The villagers believed that these men, who knew stories of brave knights and unseen creatures who spit fire, were old as time and knew magic that could not be named. These men were feared and admired at the same time. When they told stories people overcame their fear for them and listened to them trying to capture every single word the wise storyteller/magician spoke. Those same people when they slept at night dreamed of the stories the storytellers told them. The men dreamed they were rich kings and brave knights, the had immense riches and beautiful women to accompany them in their beds. And the women dreamed they were princesses locked in castles with dragons guard them and a brave knight coming to rescue them. Children dreamed of more. They dreamed of lands with sweets and numerous unknown creatures.
Time passed and the storytellers and their stories were lost in time as people began to think more with their head than with their hearts. The believed only what they could see and sometimes even not that. The seeked truth behind every little thing, instead of enjoying the beauty within them. Stories were still told but only to children. And the children believed them but when they grew old they were expected to do the same as their father and their father's father, to believe only what the could see. They forgot their stories only to remember them again when they would have children of their own and tell them to them just to ask them to not believe in them when they would grow up.
However, there were people who grew old and still believed in those same stories the ancient storytellers told. Those people believed in magic and saw amazing things, things that the other people missed because they were looking in the tree instead of the forest.
Now, stories are again told to children to make them sleep. Children dream, like the villagers, of castles and dragons. But time passes and children will became men and women who will, eventually, have their own children and raise them with those stories, once told by storytellers who traveled all their lives from village to village to make people dream of things they would never see. To awake their imagination so that they could make their own stories and tell them to their friends and family. To make every person believe in magic and in the power of feelings most of them would never feel.
Time passed and the storytellers and their stories were lost in time as people began to think more with their head than with their hearts. The believed only what they could see and sometimes even not that. The seeked truth behind every little thing, instead of enjoying the beauty within them. Stories were still told but only to children. And the children believed them but when they grew old they were expected to do the same as their father and their father's father, to believe only what the could see. They forgot their stories only to remember them again when they would have children of their own and tell them to them just to ask them to not believe in them when they would grow up.
However, there were people who grew old and still believed in those same stories the ancient storytellers told. Those people believed in magic and saw amazing things, things that the other people missed because they were looking in the tree instead of the forest.
Now, stories are again told to children to make them sleep. Children dream, like the villagers, of castles and dragons. But time passes and children will became men and women who will, eventually, have their own children and raise them with those stories, once told by storytellers who traveled all their lives from village to village to make people dream of things they would never see. To awake their imagination so that they could make their own stories and tell them to their friends and family. To make every person believe in magic and in the power of feelings most of them would never feel.
