The Storyteller - Chapter 24

The Storyteller

A Novel

By Paul McCann

Chapter 24

The Living Legacy

He sat there by the lagoon in the cottage that was built for him by the local people of  Darrashin Town , watching the flames leaping from the fire in the hearth . It was a quiet winter’s evening and the fire was flickering up the chimney like hungry tongues licking up the last moments of the day .  He knew now there was no escape now for  him and he was content to live a peaceful life there in the care of all those who loved him . . Leaving this life not was something he was ready to do . His body was old and too weak to carry on . He knew that his time on the earth was almost over and even though he had been told by his spiritual guides this time would come, he never knew the day or the hour of that transition between life and death .

He stoked the fire and went to get another bucket of coal from out in the back yard  where he had an ample supply of coal for the rest of the winter, there in the stack that had been given to him by the local people who were now looking after him in his old age . It was their way of thanking him for all of the stories he had told over the years and even still the young and old folk would come to visit him there in his cottage on a  Sunday afternoon to listen to the him tell tales about life in the mystical realms of the past and the future ,

It was a place of silent retreat and contemplation as well as a place for the community to come and enjoy . Inside the storytellers cottage there was a mysterious presence that allowed an adjustment between reality and fantasy .

There in front of a fire , people could feel a welcome in his voice that gave them an escape from life and the winters chill was shortened by the stories he could tell .

He was always shrouded by words of wonder gifted to him by the ancients in seasons of the past . He also had been given knowledge of the future that still one day would come . In the present all that there was now to be done was for him to  leave a living legacy for the generations to come .

He returned with some coal in a bucket and tossed it on the fire . The he brushed the coal dust from the floor into a small shovel that was hanging on a stand by the fireplace  . The glow of embers were charged by the coal and the fire once again

started to dance  .He place a fireguard around the heart to shield any sparks from shooting out from the heat and hitting him on his face or arms . A fire in its fury was always well able to crack with sparks that could fire at random around the room , hitting walls and anything that stood in the way .

So as the fury of the fire was at its height that’s when the fairies of the fore would come out .

The wind outside began to batter against the shutters if the windows amd there inside the storytellers cottage the old man sat by the fireplace trying to keep his attention fixed on the sounds he was hearing in the flames that  shot up the chimney as he rocked back and forth in the old rocking chair . He sensed a presence and said

“Well now sure I may as well face it . I’ll be sent out from this life soon on a road that has no end to a place far beyond where I have never been to see things I have never seen before .So if now would be the time for me to go , then let it be” . 

He rocked in the chair thinking of days gone by when he told stories to children and adults all around the country in farmhouse and castles, in buildings and halls and where ever people had come to gather and listen . There in the silence he spoke to the presence around the room as time slowly passed and the clock on the mantle piece chimed . It was midnight now and there was nothing left to burn again and so he went out to fill up the bucket with some coal from the stack out the back .

 
He softly spoke to himself as he went out the door .

“Boys a dear , if only I had youth once again , I’d be out on the road with stories to share where ever the road would take me and money was never needed for I bartered stories for food and a place to sleep and it wasn’t a bad life I had ,

even if  I had to go without for a while and it wasn’t that often , I was always sure of one thing , that my stories could bring me a home where ever I roamed .“ 

He yawned and had a stretch and then careful brough the bucker of coal back inside the cottage and placed half of it on top of the fire with a covering of slack before leaving the room .

He was getting tired and decided he would go and lie down on the bed . 

As he closed the parlour door and made his way into the bedroom he could hear the wind outside howling and then the rain started to pelt down on the ground outside .

He was so glad when at last he tucked himself up under the blankets and in his   subconscious thoughts before sleep came , he wondered if he would wake up in the morning and he hoped that if he didn’t that people could cope if he wasn’t around anymore to share his stories of all the places where he had been and the things

he had seen,  in and out of the magical places,  that  he was permitted to go .

For he had seen giants and creatures across the sea and ghosts of time in his mind that was always a wandering night and day  . 

He laid his head on the pillow and sleep came upon him .

Inside in the little parlour as the flames were subdued on the fire , there was a  crackle and a spark jumped out followed by a flame that leapt higher and higher until something very strange began to happen . From out of the glow in the fire, three tiny fairy creatures leaped out of the flames and onto the rocking chair where the storyteller had been sitting a few moments ago . 
One by one the fairies began to play their little musical instruments . First was the harp followed by a fiddle and finally then the  elbow pipes all were playing together in harmony as the flames grew taller with every note they played . Then there were dancing fairies from the fire who leapt out and began to do jigs and reels all around the little parlour of the cottage  . Round the little fire in the middle of the night, something strange was happening , it was a rare old sight . Sure the fairies all were there playing harps, fiddles, and elbow pipes and they danced the night away ,
around the flames to the morning light  The flames began to die down as the dawn it came around and the little fairies all jumping back into the fireplace again .
The glow within the fire began to flicker out and the sparks had lost their crackle
and spat up the chimney spout . One by one all the fairies all were out of sight and  there on the rocking chair by the fire they placed a large leather bound book with paper scrolled pages telling stories written with calligraphy by quilled pens with  natural dyes displaying beautiful artworks  on pages lined with gold . On the front of the book was a title  - The Living Legacy Of The Storyteller .

No one ever saw the Storyteller ever again . It was a mystery where his body had gone . He had just like that, disappeared without a trace .

Some said he must have walked away to the hills into a cave somewhere , othjer said he must had taken a boat and drifted away to sea  .

The only thing that was found in his cottage was the large book sitting on his old rocking chair  

The End