The Essence of Imagination

I came across this tale and thought I'd like to share it with you, let your imagination go.

"Once Upon a Time there dwelt by the sea a young girl whose habit it was to gather dweedles and squinkies along the shore. Late one autumn evening as she was returning to her cottage, a great and fearsome wave overcame the girl and, rendering her senseless, swept her far away. When she awoke, the girl found herself upon the coast of a strange land, being observed by two tall, birdlike creatures. "Alas," she said, as she picked herself up from the sand and pulled the seaweed from her hair, "where in the world am I, and what am I to do?" She no sooner spoke than the two creatures lifted her high into the sky and carried her inland over the heart of a great dense forest, where they released their hold on her, and she plummeted toward the trees.

The girl feared for her life, but at the last moment landed gently in front of a humble shack in the doorway of which an old crone stood staring at her with a piercing, yet kindly eye. The old woman beckoned with a gnarled finger, "Come inside, my dear, and have some tea. I have much to say and little time." Upon entering the crone's hut, the girl was amazed by all manner of mysterious objects which sat upon shelves and seemed to watch her as she crossed the room to the large chair the old crone offered to her. "Sit, my child, and be not afraid. Your destiny has brought you here that you may fulfill a purpose upon which rests the very Essence of Imagination."

A delicate cup of flavorful brew appeared in the young girl's hand at which she sipped as the old woman spoke of bygone days and ancient lore, of mystical powers and gentle breezes. She told the tales of love fulfilled, of passing time and sleepless nights, and all the while, the young girl sipped her tea and spoke not a word. At last, the crone produced a satchel from which she carefully removed a collection of aged, bound books, and setting these before the girl, laid her withered hands lightly upon them and cast a heavy sigh.

"Child, before you now are the Works of Figments, vessels of expression forged in the absence of gravity and bound by the deities of vision. They contain the verses and memories of all that is, and was, but only by the works of they that put pen to their pages can their secrets be revealed and conveyed for all of time. It is your fate to carry these treasures back to your world and see that they every one be filled with the truths of living. Go you now, and carry out this task."

The crone leaned over and with her finger gently brushed the cheek of the young girl, who then nodded drowsily and felt herself being lifted and transported to familiar shores. When she awoke, she found herself reclining in the shade of her own cottage, the satchel of books at her side, and resolved at once to embark on her destiny."

~ Anonymous ~