He was banished from his birth realm, because he said derogatory things about his leader. His name was taken from him when he was banished, so he used the name of “story teller.”

His power of space travel was stones he inherited from his mother. She also passed her gift for story telling to him.

He was a loner, contented with his lot. He enjoyed lying in a field, letting his mind wander. Tales would evolve, as he absorbed the terrain.

His stories were endless. The children would niggle at him to tell them a story. 

He didn’t tell the same tale twice. He might modify a story line to make it into a new tale. People would sit and listen by the hour.

The homebound would rest peacefully after he completed his tale. It brought peace and contentment to their minds. His stories held healing qualities.

Some would pay him with food, or drink, others would pay him with love and devotion. 

A mayor of a township approached him one day. He asked the storyteller to entertain the town’s children. He would be paid handsomely. 

When the time came for the mayor to pay the “storyteller” … he made the excuse not to pay.

The mayor thought he could cheat him by bartering. “If you can tell me a story that never ends or tell me a tale that will entertain me forever, I will pay you everything I owe you.

The storyteller sat for a minute and thought about the mayor’s offer. Then a sinister look crossed his face as a thought came to mind.

He agreed to the offer. The tales he told were old and new…he went on and on, a day went by, and still continued to speak. The mayor’s eyes grew heavy and he began to nod off. The mayor lived each story the storyteller told him. He fell into a spell of which he was held prisoner.

When the storyteller felt he had completed his task, he walked away; the mayor remained in a coma. He couldn’t be awakened. Neither could they explain what had happened to him. He was doomed to sleep until the storyteller returned …which didn’t occur until centuries later.