Special thanks to John Lightle for providing “The Seasoned Storyteller” for our writing prompt.
John Lightle is a Texas writer, poet, and photographer who spends many hours sitting on his woodpile contemplating. When away from his frame shop, he schleps his artwork among area art shows. The job takes him across the countryside, occasionally overseas, photographing the quiet resolve found within the golden hours.
Couldn’t agree more with you. My stomach was in knots writing this one…no idea why I went there, but I figured I’d let the story take its course! Thank you for reading!
Fine story, Justin! Some people tell the same lie over and over and over until it becomes true for them. I had an uncle like that . He told me once he knew he was getting old because he could no longer lie fast enough...
His hands tell half the story. His eyes roughly a third. His voice rattles on whether you’re in earshot or not. The approach matters more than the landing. And you needn’t worry if you miss something. He’ll tell this one again. And it will be the first time, as always.
Meg, this story is brilliant! There are so many carefully selected details here, and that final line shows us the character’s mental state (in my interpretation of the story, at least!). Thank you so much for sharing this with us. Always wonderful to “see you” and read your words.
Thank you, Justin. I truly love this space for setting a reachable goal of just putting words on a page. Thank you for continuing this gem of a tradition for all of us. 💜💜💜
Lovely, Meg. That sure sounds familiar. My sweet mama told the same "epic" stories, the same family lore over and over, We kids would say, " Tell the one about the haystack fire!" . Now I find myself doing the same thing. It is the story of our lives, a reminder of where we have been.
It seemed as though he knew every bartender in town, and could conjure up an unlimited supply of free drinks wherever we went. We'd slide onto a couple of barstools and he would launch into another incredible story from his checkered past. I was enthralled.
The story waits; it must. Everyone laughs. They always laugh when I tell that part. And I always think they laugh for the sake of courtesy. The story moves on, though. Not giving a fuck about my insecurity. It rounds the corner, barreling towards the place where it doubles back.
He was just back from his posting and was engulfed with violent imagery. 'Are they all bad people dad'? He preferred to talk about the friendly nomad boy who had offered him juicy dates. 'Dad when will you take us'? He needed to visit again as their angels were one.
Lost the Plot, fiction
Where’d my stories get me?
Nowhere.
They began as a single thread, but I wove them into a web, more intricate with every lie.
My wife and kids are gone forever.
Now all I’ve got are these four walls and a lifetime to figure out how I lost the plot.
Lies are traps waiting to snare the teller. Then regret.
I've known some of these people. You'd think they'd learn.
Couldn’t agree more with you. My stomach was in knots writing this one…no idea why I went there, but I figured I’d let the story take its course! Thank you for reading!
Fine story, Justin! Some people tell the same lie over and over and over until it becomes true for them. I had an uncle like that . He told me once he knew he was getting old because he could no longer lie fast enough...
Like I Was Saying - Fiction
His hands tell half the story. His eyes roughly a third. His voice rattles on whether you’re in earshot or not. The approach matters more than the landing. And you needn’t worry if you miss something. He’ll tell this one again. And it will be the first time, as always.
Meg, this story is brilliant! There are so many carefully selected details here, and that final line shows us the character’s mental state (in my interpretation of the story, at least!). Thank you so much for sharing this with us. Always wonderful to “see you” and read your words.
Thank you, Justin. I truly love this space for setting a reachable goal of just putting words on a page. Thank you for continuing this gem of a tradition for all of us. 💜💜💜
Lovely, Meg. That sure sounds familiar. My sweet mama told the same "epic" stories, the same family lore over and over, We kids would say, " Tell the one about the haystack fire!" . Now I find myself doing the same thing. It is the story of our lives, a reminder of where we have been.
💜🥂So true, Sharron.
Now that is a seasoned storyteller. Well done, Meg.
🥂
His Final Tale - Fiction
A hush fell over the inn as the old wizard entered and shook off the cold.
“Will ya be sharing a tale tonight?” The innkeeper asked.
“Perhaps. Once my hunger and thirst are slaked.”
“Done.”
In time, the wizard began.
“Before man, before magic, a wizard walked this world alone…”
Never Ending Story -CNF
Be careful what you say—it might come true. He was a storyteller and history buff for 45 years before his story ended.
Did he know? Seeming nervous yet at peace, requesting prayers at church, confessing, 'I won’t live to be old.'
Now, he's gone, but his story lives forever.
THE STORY TELLER, prose poem
The firelight was dying. Embers smoldered like the seething breath of dragons.
Tell us a story, Grandpa!
A story! You want the truth or lies?
Oh, we want lies!
Well, then …. Long ago, when the world was new, the first humans roamed the land, and they all lived together peacefully.
I love this exchange and the spin at the end. Great piece, Sharron! My goodness, how I hope we can all find some peace soon.
What are stories but clever lies? More please!
Loved it.
The Story Teller-poem
Where lies the truth?
Some chase the latest,
Sure that it
Leads to greater
Awareness.
They move as a herd
Even as they perceive
Uniqueness.
Carl did not follow,
Did not lead.
He found truths where
They lay and
Documented them
As fables.
Listen and learn;
You’ll grow more
Complete.
This is excellent, RI! Important words. Thank you so much for sharing them with us. 🙏
Marriage, fiction:
"Why now?"
"You know why."
"Do I?"
"But it doesn't matter. If you know, we're there. If you don't, we're still there."
"Where's there?"
"It's right here, right now."
"So you say."
"No one else's gonna say it. Are you gonna say it?"
"Not now you did."
"And that's why..."
Haha! Love this. Sorry, somehow I missed the notification!
Once Upon a Time (fiction)
It seemed as though he knew every bartender in town, and could conjure up an unlimited supply of free drinks wherever we went. We'd slide onto a couple of barstools and he would launch into another incredible story from his checkered past. I was enthralled.
We married later that year.
Loved this, Lia! What a perfect little twist at the end.
A Life of Their Own, CNF
The story waits; it must. Everyone laughs. They always laugh when I tell that part. And I always think they laugh for the sake of courtesy. The story moves on, though. Not giving a fuck about my insecurity. It rounds the corner, barreling towards the place where it doubles back.
What a ridiculously cool story about the life of a story. Very clever and exceptionally well done! Thanks for sharing!
Gabriel and Jibrail are one ( fiction )
He was just back from his posting and was engulfed with violent imagery. 'Are they all bad people dad'? He preferred to talk about the friendly nomad boy who had offered him juicy dates. 'Dad when will you take us'? He needed to visit again as their angels were one.