(no subject)

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

Looking for stories, true or lies.

Comments

[a-deaths-head.livejournal.com]

You should attend the theater if you are seeking entertainment.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

I do not seek entertainment, though I do apprieciate the suggestion, and I look to understand people better.

[a-deaths-head.livejournal.com]

Then a theater would be ideal, mademoiselle. One can witness both the best and worst in people there.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

I've never been to one, and I'm finding myself tempted. Though I would not know where to start.

[taintedintent.livejournal.com]

I could tell you a good number of stories. Though I don't know which ones are lies and which ones are not.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

You have my attention, if you wish to tell. The truth of the tale matters less than many assume.

[taintedintent.livejournal.com]

There is the story of the three brothers. A particular favorite of mine.

Three brothers were bound to see their aging mother when they came to a river that they could not cross except by one bridge. On the bridge, Death himself waited for them. They struggled for hours with Death and overcame him. Not to be bested, Death offered them each a gift of their choosing.

The eldest brother, who craved power, requested a wand from Death so powerful that it could not be defeated. Death gave him the wand.

The middle brother, still mourning the loss of a young woman he had loved, requested the power to raise the dead. Death gave him a stone that, if he turned it over three times, would allow him to call forth the dead.

The youngest brother, suspicious of Death's generosity, was more careful. Finally, he requested the power to avoid Death's gaze. Death removed his cloak and gave it to the youngest brother.

After seeing their mother, the brothers parted ways.

The eldest boasted of his wand, demonstrating its power, proving that no one could beat him in a duel. One night, another man, envious of that power, slit his throat while he slept and claimed the wand for his own.

The middle brother used the stone to call back his young love. However, she was neither dead or alive, bound to a world she did not belong to. She was haunted by her new state, and he was grieved to have caused it. Unable to bear her anguish and his, he took his own life, releasing them both.

The youngest brother used his cloak wisely, never for his own gain. It protected him when Death tried to call on him early, and he found a wife. When, at least, he was an aged man, he gave the cloak to his son and greeted Death as a friend.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

*listens intently, a small smile on her face* What things that tale does say of the human heart. My thanks.

[deep-red-bells.livejournal.com]

Aw, I'm not a very good storyteller, I don't guess I can help.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

If I were looking for entertainment, that would be a problem, but as it stands, a person who does not spin fine yarns is as welcome as one who does not.

[deep-red-bells.livejournal.com]

I didn't create this one, but this is one of my favorite short stories.

Here: an exercise in choice. Your choice. One of these tales is true.

She lived through the war. In 1959 she came to America. She now lives in a condo in Miami, a tiny French woman with white hair, with a daughter and a grand-daughter. She keeps herself to herself and smiles rarely, as if the weight of memory keeps her from finding joy.

Or that's a lie. Actually the Gestapo picked her up during a border crossing in 1943, and they left her in a meadow. First she dug her own grave, then a single bullet to the back of the skull.

Her last thought, before that bullet, was that she was four months' pregnant, and that if we do not fight to create a future there will be no future for any of us.

There is an old woman in Miami who wakes, confused, from a dream of the wind blowing the wildflowers in a meadow.

There are bones untouched beneath the warm French earth which dream of a daughter's wedding. Good wine is drunk. The only tears shed are happy ones.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

*soft* They are both true for someone. I've heard the dreaming of enough bones.

[agreencarnation.livejournal.com]

Here you are, my dear.

Click me. (http://fiction.eserver.org/short/happy_prince.html)

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

That is quite beautiful. I feel as though I understand the prince more than I might wish to.

[agreencarnation.livejournal.com]

...Some might condemn the prince, but I cannot say I am in their number.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

Giving everything you have for love of people, what more can one aspire to? Or, at least, one without a soul could hope to aspire to.

[wearpurplerobes.livejournal.com]

Stories are wonderful things to collect.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

There is little else I have need of.

[wearpurplerobes.livejournal.com]

People don't appreciate stories nearly enough, but I rather think they are just as essential to life.

[campjesus]

My uncle Steve was arrested for fucking a horse.

TRUE. STORY.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

*laughs softly* Why am I know surprised?

[campjesus]

What, because I'm southern? Y'all think we're just a bunch of horse-fuckin', sister-marryin' inbred rednecks?!

...actually this is 100% accurate. My family tree is shameful. One of my great-aunts was a lesbian! She ran off to Cancun with a former Playboy model, I think they raised sheep or something.

[captain-breacan.livejournal.com]

Perhaps, Madame should be in attendance of sailors to hear their stories.

On second thought, taking sailors into consideration---no, Madame should not.

[modernfae.livejournal.com]

Oh but I have always been fond of sailors. They have a tendency to be honest, even if it is not gentle honesty.

[captain-breacan.livejournal.com]

An honesty, heavily embellished with embroidered half-truths.