How I Became a Storyteller’s Wife

I had this dream and in this dream I was a princess. That was a strange dream for me to have, because I don’t ever remember ever having a dream where I was a princess before. But yes, in this dream I was a princess and it was my wedding day. A good day to be a princess, I’m sure. The young prince I was to wed was lovely and sweet, and he did look quite princely in his princely garbs. But as I was preparing for the ceremony, a funny young storyteller came to my window and told me the story of a star who fell from the sky. He began his story with “Once upon a time…” and ended it with “and so it will be until even people are gone and books are written by bunny rabbits.” like all the proper storytellers used to do.

When he finished I had tears in my eyes. I asked him if he knew any more. Oh, yes, he answered, plenty. He knew stories from all over the world and beyond, more stories that can ever be told in a lifetime or two. He would gladly tell me these stories, he added, but only if I ran away with him. And with an unmistakable gleam in his strange eye, he held out his hand to me. He smiled too, for he already knew what my answer would be.

So somewhere, out there, in a garden by a palace in the land of dreams, stands a young prince, lovely and sweet and quite princely in his princely garbs, scratching his head, wondering why his wedding hasn’t taken place and where his young bride has gone. And you can be sure, from the puzzled look on his face, that he didn’t see this coming. I wish him the best of luck and hope that his next betrothed isn’t as easily distracted by stars who fall from the sky and other such tales.

Somebody please call the caterer.

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