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2:10 AMReasoning and Musing
|The Fire was dying, embers hot, though the flames had long subsided. As she stepped into the clearing she noticed it, the man in front. He was warming his hands, with a travelers pack by his side. He glanced up, with a strange look upon his face.|
His face was blocked by an orange hood, his mouth barely visible spelling out the syllables: "Greetings, young one. From where do you come?"
"Umm..." Unsure of trust, she gave an answer in umms and errs.
A deep chuckle came forth from the throat of the man. "You are lost, are you not?"
"Sit by the fire with me. I am no threat."
Feeling strangely comfortable in his presence, she sat on the grass on the other side of the dying embers.
"I come from a land unbeknownst to you, and I bring tales. I am a teller of stories, a bank of knowledge. I have a story to tell, as do you."
"But...I don't have any stories to tell-"
"Nonsense. Everyone has at least one story to tell: Their own. The one I speak tonight is not one of these, but one of strange truth."
She sat and listened.
And he began.
"Long ago, as most stories are, there lived a boy. Not a man, just...a boy, for now. He spent his days divided into 2 lives.
"In one, he was a man of the ordinary, one of he folk you see on the city street or the town square. That was not how he always lived, however.
"He had a secret, second life he told no-one else about. Behind locked and closed doors, he was known as "DepressedDuck."
"What did he do behind those closed doors?" She asked.
"He told stories. He had friends with him, all telling stories. He used to be the knight protector, the grand king, occasionally a poor soul, but he told stories. He loved it.
"One day he woke up, to find that he wasn't himself. Everything changed, his perception went on end. He started educating himself more, which made him smarter, but dug into time on his second life. He would disappear for days on end, locked in tomes of knowledge and symbols of ancient Greek jargon. He was not happy.
"One day He had to leave for a long time. By this time his friends hardly knew who he was, and he dissipated, lost in tomes.
"He spent a year and a half, isolated from the world he used to know, and was introduced to a thousand more.
"And even when he could come back...he didn't. He just stayed away. He figured he was nothing more than specter to his friends, if they were even his...friends anymore, or even if they occupied the same life.
"Then one day, while digging though his past, he found his way back.
"Things were different.
"But his friends were there, telling stories, laughing, having fun a world away.
"Did they know him, did they care? He wondered, and thought, mused and bemused."
The stranger reached behind him, and through a log on the fire. The flames shot up for a moment, reflecting back grey-blue eyes, fogged with memory.
"I was that boy. But I am now that man.
"And I still can open the door to that world. And one day I may write stories again. But for now I am simply a man who writes. A man who cares. And still a boy at his very core."
"But you said-" She said.
"I'm sorry. You need to get some sleep. I have stories to write, and memories to re-collect."
And with that, he sat back down and watched the fire as it slowly faded to black.
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