The Dream Called Story

IV Sea of Stories

Wherein Quiet's Story obtains its light

Nobody would read Quiet's Story.

In the Library, it sat among hundreds of Tomes – Tomes of varying sizes, age and luminosity – on a shelf, among tens of thousands of shelves. Quiet and her Heart would sit nearby, waiting for Story to be chanced upon.

But with stories as vast as the sky and ocean, how can one story stand out? And with all those stories that shone, either faintly or ever brighter than the last, how can Quiet's Story hope to make it, when it did not even shed a light of its own?

It should be no surprise that no one would notice her Tome, when it sat beside other Tomes that radiated so bright, their luminescence obscured her Tome's very presence. It stood there, as if only to fill the gaps.

Much like Quiet herself.

She and her Heart visited the Library everyday, and each day bore the same disappointment. Her Tome remained unopened, untouched. Each day, for many days, Quiet would hope that a soul would look hard enough to find her Tome and open it at least, and yet with each passing day, that hope continued to slip from her fingers.

At last, she decided it was time to stop visiting Story altogether and move on. To leave it be and lay her dream to rest, now that it had been fulfilled.

This was all there was to the dream. What was to be the fate of their beloved Garden? There was no more use for it as far as Quiet was concerned, but her Heart did not want for the Garden to perish. It was what they had built together, and just maybe, it could be of some help to other Dreamers as well.

"The Garden is a reminder of how feeble my dream had been," said Quiet. "Perhaps I will continue to gather words for another story. Perhaps, I will not."

As her Heart held the ladder still, Quiet climbed to retrieve her Tome from the shelf. Once she had gotten down, both she and her Heart laid their eyes on the Tome, for what may be the last time.

Touching the pages of Story, Quiet relished the rough and uneven surface, listening to the crisp sound they made as she turned each one. "We can finally put it to rest here at the Library." And then she caught glimpses of the words within the pages and, curiously enough, found that she was not satisfied.

Not only did the pages feel raw, but also the words themselves. She turned to her Heart, smiled and said, "On second thought, perhaps I will make better this Story first."

The Heart leaped with joy. Then I will help you, every step of the way, as I always have. This is all I want, for you to catch your dream.

Quiet blinked, wondering what it was that made her Heart so happy all of a sudden.

No one really tells you, but the truth is that... When you leave a dream behind, it is not the dream that dies. Every Heart knows this, even if they may choose to deny it.

Quiet was appalled. "Why didn't you say anything? I would not have let you died!"

Gently taking the Tome from Quiet's hands, her Heart explained, It is not up to me. I am only a Heart, a voice out of many other voices. It will always be you who will decide.

Laying the Tome on the table, her Heart stood looking at it in wonder. Imagine a Sea of Stories, existing in between the non-existent and the imaginary. Stories that choose the bearer, the dreamer. Each with a voice. Each with a core.

Are not the stories Dreamers themselves? Eagerly waiting to be found, written down and set free, to be read and realized. Truly, what is a Story's purpose, if not to be read and to touch another's Heart?

A Story that is meant to be written is always meant to be read. Its true worth is not to be measured. It is to be cherished.

Because a story is the dream of the lost, the voice of the planet. A dream is life's adventure, life's own Story. And always, it is worth something.

The Heart began tearing itself in half.

Quiet froze, shocked at what her Heart was doing to itself. And then she was horrified, as her Heart continued to rip itself apart, inch by inch, until the two lifeless pieces fell – one onto a page, where it merged with the Tome, and the other she caught with her hands.

The Tome was finally glowing, and Quiet's Heart torn and ultimately broken.  

From the storyteller: Have you ever had to sacrifice something for your dream? Share it in the comments below.

Do we not also offer a piece of our heart when we write our stories? How vulnerable it must feel to expose a part of our soul to the world this way. It is such a scary thought, isn't it?

Quiet's Heart is now broken; only a half remains. How will she make it whole again, if at all? Find out in the next chapter.

Again, I thank you for reading this humble fable. If you found it encouraging, will you share it to other struggling writers and dreamers?