A Parable of the Storyteller

While understanding grows — the heart already knows.

— Forgotten poet of a distant land

Once upon a time, there lived a young man.

He came from simple origins, yet received a good education.

His relatives and friends advised him to become a lawyer, a doctor, or a clerk — something useful secure and not entirely dull.

But he took a quieter path — the life of a storyteller — one that led not to wealth, but to wonder.

*

At first, he visited families of his friends and told gentle tales to their little ones.

His stories awakened imagination and seemed to heal the listeners’ hearts — and sometimes even their bodies.

*

Word spread.

He was invited to homes where children suffered from illness, fear, or emotional pain.

And though his country was vast and the villages were many,

he went wherever he was called, never asking for payment — for his reward was the silence that followed every story.

*

Yet sometimes he wondered:

would he ever see a land where every child was well again?

Would his work ever be enough?

*

One day, a sick boy said to him,

“Please, visit my cousin — my dear sister in heart —

her pain is greater than mine.

If only you could heal her, that alone would be my reward.”

The man went — and the girl recovered.

When he returned, the boy was smiling, stronger now,

and his words still echoed in the storyteller’s heart:

Children may not know how to heal the whole world,

but they know how to care for one another.

*

He soon noticed something truly wondrous:

with every story he told, not only did his listeners grow lighter —

he too grew deeper.

His tales became richer, his voice softer, his heart more open.

He was learning from those he came to heal.

It gave him a quiet sense of purpose

and a steady belief in better days to come.

*

Over time, people saw that his stories were changing.

They were no longer just fairy tales —

some became parables, others memories or dreams —

but in each of them lived a trace of wonder

and a faith in the extraordinary hidden in every human soul.

*

Later, he met an old friend — now a city mayor — who said,

“My dear fellow, your tales are charming,

but surely you could spend your life doing something more important.”

At that very moment, a messenger arrived:

a child was waiting, gravely ill, asking for him.

The mayor frowned.

“Must you go now?

You cannot heal all the children in the world.”

The storyteller rose, gathering his cloak, and smiled softly.

“No,” he said, “but I can heal one soul —

and sometimes, one soul is enough to keep the world alive.”

And as he left, a quiet thought followed him:

Stories are like candles — one may not light the world,

but each keeps the dark away

and summons the light

within us.

— Erian Lin Grant, October 2025

E. L. Grant writes about silence, truth, and human resilience.

More works on Medium and Twitter @ErianLinGrant.