The Dream Called Story

V Heart of Sacrifice

Wherein Quiet was no more

The Heart lay where Quiet had first found it: In its basket, covered by a blanket, on the softest pillow Quiet could find.

Quiet did her best to keep the Heart comfortable. She placed the basket by the window sill, that the sun's light may shine upon it as would the moon's, hoping that a view of the sky would do it some good.

Through the window, the Heart would have easily watched Quiet water their ever growing Garden and also pluck out the weeds. It would have made the Heart happy that Quiet had followed its wish.

As Quiet would work on their Garden, she couldn't help but take a glance at the window from time to time, to see if the Heart would wake from its indefinite slumber. She would rest by the window, gazing at what's left of her Heart, waiting for it to speak again. It could stir at any moment now, and she wanted to be there when that happened.

Yet each instance Quiet checked on her Heart, it continued to lay still, and no matter how many times she prayed, spoke to it or kissed it goodnight, it would not live again. No matter how long she waited and hope, Quiet could not make her Heart whole again.

She had fulfilled her dream – had filled her Tome with words and had made it shine – but it had cost her her Heart. It was broken now, and even if it healed, if at all, she doubted it would be the same. She had always expected that fulfilling her dream would bring her happiness, but it only brought her sorrow and a broken Heart.

Quiet toiled, so words continued to flutter around her humble abode. As she worked harder, the Garden thrived. The plants grew and the buds blossomed. Colorful flowers painted the Garden, and in turn the words that came grew in variety and color.

Other Dreamers would knock at her door. They would barter words, and Quiet discovered words she never before thought existed. The world seemed a larger and closer place than ever.

The world became a more familiar place to Quiet, as though it was a story itself, and the words were the answers to its mysteries. She understood that words had power, and that as long as she respected them they would not harm her. That if she could harness the power each contained, she would be able to come closer to what Story called her for.

Because Story was still calling to her. It beckoned to her, and she knew the voice that called could not be kept waiting. Story was not done, and with the remaining half of her Heart, she would pursue Story's dream.

Beyond her dream, beyond her reach and beyond all that she had ever imagined.

Quiet would catch the new words and feed it to her Tome, replacing raw words with ripened ones. This time, she chose her words carefully. Story could be better, this Quiet knew. The Tome could be brighter.

For to give up was all too easy. To believe that Story had made a mistake of choosing someone who was no good such as her; indeed, she had let the thought consume her before. She could choose to drown herself in it again and stay where she was then, taking comfort in the possibility that she could have succeeded, just that she did not give it her all.

The dream would be there, teethering between the void and the reachable. Yes, she could save herself this way. Not knowing was perhaps a more merciful fate, rather than giving all of one's self, only to fail in the end.

But that would be living a lie. Dreams have a way of haunting its Dreamer, and Quiet understood this better than anyone else. She had gone through this before. Never again.

A half-Heart was not the same, true, but it was her Heart nevertheless, and Quiet was determined not to lose what remained of it.

A story is meant not only for the Dreamer, as Quiet would find out. For one day, she heard a knock on her door. She answered it, expecting another fellow Dreamer. Nobody was there, but on the ground, oddly and peculiarly, was a tiny piece of someone else's heart.

A note read: "To the Dreamer of the Tome that sparkles."

It was the heart of one who had been touched by Story.

Quiet gathered the heart-piece and held it close to her chest. It was a part of someone, and it was such a precious gift. She laid it beside her half-Heart. "To keep you company, my dear friend," and she kissed both goodnight.

That heart-piece healed her half-Heart a little. As Quiet refined Story, the Tome gathered more light. Though it did not shine as brightly yet, its gentle radiance was enough to finally be noticed.

Other heart-pieces followed. They healed Quiet's Heart little by little. Not long after, it finally woke again.

It would take some time and a few more heart-pieces before her Heart could speak again, before it could become whole again; indeed, it was not something she could do by herself. But what a wonderful day it was to see her Heart alive again. She lifted it from its basket and embraced it very tightly, and she felt her Heart's tears on her shoulders, too.

And there Quiet noticed a faint glow emanating from beneath her Heart's pillow. She peeked inside the basket, and saw what looked very much like Talent, though not quite. This one was a little rougher and a bit sturdier. It might have taken longer to form and perhaps, had stumbled one too many times along the way. It was 'Skill'.

Her dream had changed her. Through Story, Quiet gained a voice, and her journey had taught her to use that voice to speak to another's heart. No longer was she Quiet; she was Echo, having vowed to always speak from her Heart.

She and her Heart were one and the same, and it was a truth that every Dreamer must realize.

In time, maybe, her Heart could become whole as it once was, and indeed, as she had already known, it would never be the same again. As did she.

And when it would, she would gladly give up a part of it all over again. For this was who she was. Echo – Dreamer. Word gatherer. Storyteller.  

From the storyteller: Hello, fellow Dreamer~

I am so happy to see you have accompanied Quiet thus far. Her journey, now as Echo, still continues, but the fable ends here for now.

Thank you truly, fellow Dreamer, for sharing this journey with us. I know we are all struggling dreamers, aren't we?  How has this fable spoken to you, if at all? Feel free to comment about it below.

Til then, I bid you a happy day of dream-chasing ^_~