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Inspiring, heart-felt stories for you

Chủ đề trong 'Anh (English Club)' bởi Nha`que^, 20/12/2001.

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  1. Nha`que^

    Nha`que^ Thành viên quen thuộc

    Tham gia ngày:
    20/02/2001
    Bài viết:
    465
    Đã được thích:
    0
    The Storyteller's Secret

    Once upon a time there lived many small children. For the most part, their parents didn't have a lot of money, but they were happy children. They were happy because their mothers always made sure they visited the village storyteller everyday. It didn't bother the children to do this: in fact, they loved running down the sidewalk to the town squre alongside dozens of other children. They loved being able to sip hot cocco while they gathered around Mr. John, the storyteller. Mr. John was an elderly man with thin, graying hair. His eyes were a sparkling blue and were his most wonderful features. He smiled with his eyes, and when he laughed, which he did often, his eyes crinkled up with amusement. He also had a big, white smile that he showed the children many times a day.

    No one knew anything about Mr. John's past; they didn't know if he'd ever been married, or if he'd gone to college, no one knew his age. Sometimes people around town would try to guess the storyteller's story and sometimes the children would make games out of trying to guess his age. But it really didn't matter to the children what his past was or if he was 30 or a hundred. They loved him and they knew that he loved them.


    Every day at storytime, Mr. John would greet the children by name before beginning one of his great stories. Sometimes the stories were adventure tales with animals caught in danger and children rushing to save them. Sometimes the stories were of boys who fought the neighborhood bully and succeeded in winning the prettiest little girl's heart. Sometimes the stories were of little boys and girls who had parents that fought and how the handle those hard situations. And sometimes, the stories were of how much Mr. John loved the children. No matter what the stories were about, the children always walked away feeling happy and loved.


    But one day, something very bad happened. Mr. John finished telling his story and began hugging all the children goodbye. Before anyone had left the square, though, Mr. John grabbed his heart and his face, that was usually so happy, frowned in pain. The beloved storyteller fell to the g round and people rushed dover to help him. They tried to push all of the children away from him but Mr. John told the adults to let the children touch him.


    And touch him they did. The children wrapped their arms around Mr. John's giant neck and two of the children even climbed up to lay on top of Mr. John. Mr. John was hurting but the tears of the children hurt him most. So he tried to soothe them.


    "Children," he gasped, his voice hoarse now with pain. At the sound of his voice, the children all stopped talking and turned to listen to the storyteller.


    "Children, I'm going to tell you another story, okay? This story is true." All the little children immediately stopped crying to listen to this new, final story. Mr. John made all the adults leave him alone so that he could be with his children.


    "Once upon a time," he began. "There lived a very old man who spent his time telling stories to lots of kids-"


    "That's you!" one little boy cried.

    "That's us!" one little girl added and the storyteller smiled and nodded through the pain in his chest, and his heart. It was painful for him to tell them this story. "The man loved telling stories and he especially loved the children. At night he spent his time coming up with more stories them and he waited every day for the chance to be with them. He loved Molly's sense of humor, he loved Keith's mischievousness, he loved Rachel's smile, he loved something about each of them. But there was something about the man that nobody knew. He had never told anyone because he was embarassed and he felt guilty. Even more than all that, he was afraid that if he told people his secret, the children wouldn't love him anymore-"


    At this, all of the children hugged him and promised that they would always love him. The storyteller took a deep breath, lifting his eyes to see the parents of all these beautiful, wonderful little ones. He knew things were endings -- he was in a lot of pain.


    "Well, the storyteller was just a man," he went on. "And one day he got very sick and he couldn't live here anymore so he went away."


    "Where did he go?" the children wondered.


    "He went to live in a place win the sky, a place called heaven. It's really beautiful there. They have lots of food, and the streets are made with gold, can you imagine that? There are harps, and pianos and lots of people singing. They sing so well and it's so pretty that it makes people cry. It is a wonderful place to be but you can only go there when it's your time. When you're old and you've already done allt hat you need to do, then you can go there. The man's time had come, so he went to live there and he was very happy, even though he missed the children."


    Everyone was quiet for a long time before one of the boys said, "Mr. John, are you going to heaven?"


    Mr. John smiled and nodded. "Yes, Mark, I am."


    "When?"


    "Today. But you can all write letters to me even after I'm gone and I'll keep telling you stories in a whisper. You won't be able to see me but the stories will be in your hearts."

    "What made you sick?" one of the little girls, Abigail, asked and Mr. John reached out a hand to gently touch her cheek. He had known it would be curious Abigail that would ask him that. He hesitated, then took a deep breath.

    "I have an illness called AIDS, but -"


    Chaos broke out amongst the adults. Their gasps were heard and Mr. John never got to finish his sentence. Parents were momentarily stunned before they reached over, grabbing for their children's hands to hurry them away from the men. One parent even grabbed his little boy around the waist and hauled him in the air like a football. The kids, though, didn't want to leave.


    "No!"

    "I don't wanna go!"

    "Mr. John's sick!"

    "Let me go!"


    The kids didn't want to leave him but their mamas and daddies didn't really know what AIDS was, so they were afraid that their children could get sick if they were around Mr. John. So, their fear made them take their kids and leave.

    For the first time since he'd come to the village many years ago, tears filled the storyteller's blue eyes. Quietly, he finished his earlier sentence: "But it won't hurt you" and then closed his eyes. A few hours later, he left this world to go live in a beautiful place called heaven.


    ...


    How I wish that we could all be like the children: accepting others uncon***ionally and refusing to allow fear of the unknown drive us away from others, who need our love, support and help.

    Tiffini Johnson

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