The Great Storyteller Novels & Stories

It seems everyone could read beyond her present state. “There’s nothing much to say aside from that my dad’s company went through a terrible financial stroke due to a failed project and our competitor bought our company,” she said in one go and took a bite from her donut “Oh my, this donut is so good” she made a satisfying sound and continues eating.

The dark lord tilted his head to the side, rushing towards Elika with precise speed and aim; stopping only inches away from her as he spoke. “I only give people the truth; they do what they wish with it. I do not influence what they do with the information at all. Yes, I am a monster, but I am a monster with morals and ideals; not just a creature with the lust for war and death. You need to understand that not everything is in black and white; you need to find the hidden messages in everything that goes on in life. An example is why you are here or your mother. Instead of allowing your hate to cloud your judgement and make you blind to the real world, you must search for the things that not

Just for a moment I let my walls down and put my head on her shoulder. Hoping that we wouldn’t have to argue about the chief next in line. Holding me to her, she tells me about our family and where we came from. The story of our family, I know it by heart. I like to hear the story; it reminds me of Granny. Ever since we were little kids, she would tell us all about it. How we are descendants of the great chief Akash, the greatest that ever lived.

There would be nothing left but emptiness. After that, my father never showed up again. One day, Little Zoe came home carrying a letter and a cake. My mother showed me the letter. It contained the address of the house my father had promised, along with a bank card that had two hundred million dollars in it. We did not move there. We never touched a single cent of that money. The following winter, I saw news from Harbor City on television. Rowan Xanders, a prominent entrepreneur, had died at the age of twenty-nine from an old injury.

It was a man who the look in his eyes told me that trouble was brewing. He was dressed in a worn-out black coat, looked dirty and unkept yet his unfazed spirit sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to ignore him and make my way into the car, but he blocked my path and I saw a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Leaving so soon?" he said, in a sardonic tone. “ You owe me for keeping your secret from last night." I felt nostalgic in the pit of my stomach. What secret?

I always told them the truth that mattered most. “He was a good man,” I said. “He loved this family more than anything.” I did not tell them about the debt note. I did not tell them about the threats. I did not tell them how much darkness their father had swallowed before the end. I wanted them to remember his kindness, not his despair. Years later, I finally understood something. Poverty is frightening, but poverty itself is not the cruelest thing. The cruelest thing is when wicked people see another person’s hardship and treat it as permission to destroy them.

The owner of the pub was thanking them endlessly and decided to give them free sake and food. Keane looked at the courageous woman. It was his first time to witness a woman using a sword. He was more fascinated when she removed her robe. He met so many gorgeous women in his life, but her beauty far surpassed all of them. The woman looked at her and smiled, "Thank you for helping us," Keane was taken aback in reality by her voice. He fixed his expression and introduced himself, "Well, I am…" when he remembered that people couldn't know who he was, "I am Dragon."

The avenue stretched so far she couldn't immediately see where it ended. A memorial, yes. Or perhaps a graveyard for memory itself. She came to a stop. "What stood here?" Arkael followed her gaze. For a long moment he said nothing. The silence itself felt respectful. "Our storytellers." Adelaide looked at him. "Your... storytellers?" "The greatest among them." She frowned, glancing back towards the endless procession of vacant plinths. "So these weren't kings." "No." "Generals?" Again he shook his head. "Heroes?"