The Morning Market Storyteller

Before the first rays of sunlight painted the sky, the morning market came alive with the smell of warm bread, ripe fruit, and fresh herbs as merchants set up their stalls. Old Farid, the storyteller, was one of them, sitting in his usual spot next to the spice vendor's cart. He was a mainstay of the market, as much a part of its rhythm as the cries of traders hawking their wares. Clad in a faded indigo robe, his face weathered like ancient parchment, he sat on a worn wooden stool with his staff resting across his lap, and he told stories each morning as the market came to life.

He was surrounded by children, traders, tourists, and beggars who were all captivated by the power of his words. He had just stories to tell, no goods to sell, no wealth to show off. Nevertheless, he received gifts from individuals, including a few copper pieces, a cup of tea, and a handful of dates. The market people knew that his stories were worth far more than gold, even though he never asked for anything.

A young girl cautiously approached him one morning as the sun broke through the fog. She was ten years old, wearing a tattered tunic, and had curious black eyes.

She begged, "Tell us a story, Grandfather," in a voice that was almost audible above whisper.

Farid grinned, his eyes glimmering in the early morning light like coals. He attracted the dispersed audience by tapping his staff against the ground. "A story?" he asked himself. However, which one is it?

"The best one," she replied enthusiastically.

He shifted in his seat and laughed. "The best stories are those that select you, not ones that I pick."

Farid started, and the audience leaned in.

The Silent Moon's Story

Farid said in a steady, low voice, "There was a village by the sea long ago, before the sky had stars and the world was merely a blank canvas of water and muck." It was a tranquil community where people coexisted peacefully with the environment, unaffected by time. They mostly used glances and gestures to communicate, speaking only when absolutely required. They thought that the secret to wisdom lay in stillness and that words had great power. One thing, though, bothered them: the moon would rise over the horizon every night, but it would remain silent.

A small boy in the audience asked, his eyes wide with surprise, "How can a moon speak?"

"Ah," smiled Farid, "the moon has a voice, just like everything else. We simply need to pay closer attention at times. Before proceeding, he took a moment to let the words sink in.

"A child named Rami asked his grandma one evening, 'Why does the moon never speak to us?'" The villagers had long known the moon to be a silent protector of the night.

"'The moon is waiting for someone who understands its stillness,' said the grandmother, who was wise beyond her years."

Curious, the audience leaned closer, waiting for every word.

"Young and curious, Rami made the decision that he would be the one to comprehend. He thus ascended to the village's highest point, a hill with a view of the ocean, one evening. He sat there, gazing at the moon as its gentle silver light filled the earth. The breeze carried the smell of earth and salt, and the night was still. He continued to wait. However, the moon remained silent.

After a brief pause during which he looked around the audience, Farid went on.

As the days stretched into weeks, Rami's search went on. He slept on that hill, listening to the waves, watching the moon, and studying the nocturnal critters. The moon, however, said nothing. When the people eventually realized how committed Rami was, many of them believed he was wasting his time.

One of the peasants questioned his friend, "Why does not he give up?"

According to a friend, "because he feels that quiet holds the answer,"

Thus, Rami persisted without hesitation. He silently concentrated, letting his thoughts clear of the debris that had accumulated throughout the day. Gradually, he started to observe a change in the moon. The sense of tranquility it conveyed spoke to him more than the lack of sound.

"A remarkable event occurred one evening when the full moon rose over the community. One with the night, Rami had a closeness to the moon that was so profound and pure that it was impossible to describe. The moon then spoke to him in that instant, filling his chest with a warmth rather than a voice.

Enthralled, the audience waited for Farid to continue as his voice faded to a whisper.

It had been waiting for someone who could listen with the heart as well as the ears, but the moon had never been quiet. Rami had discovered the secret: the message was contained in the quiet.

The Silent Moon's Lesson

The young girl who had requested the story appeared to be reflecting. Her voice was full of excitement as she questioned, "What did Rami do with the moon's message?"

Farid gazed at her and grinned, his eyes softening. "Yes, Rami took a step that permanently altered the village. "The moon does not speak because it needs no words," he said to the people after his return. The moon communicates through the quiet and tranquility it provides. We discover insight when we pay attention to the stillness.

The locals realized the value of silence "from that day forward," he added. They learnt that often the most profound truths are revealed in the quietest moments, and they avoided speaking unless they had anything significant to say.

After listening carefully, the market audience nodded in agreement. For a brief moment, there was an unspoken sense of understanding as the morning sun's gentle radiance enveloped them all in warmth.

Farid's voice softened as he leaned back. "You see, children," he added, "sometimes the greatest insight comes from stillness in a noisy environment. Only those with more than just their ears can hear what the moon has to say.

With a fresh insight, the girl who had requested the story got to her feet. She said, "Thank you, Grandfather," and her words themselves felt like a gift.

Farid watched as she and the others walked away, the message from the moon weighing heavily on their thoughts. He was aware that the power of storytelling had once again worked. The market was still humming around him as the sun rose, the sounds of merchants and shoppers mingling with the echoes of the past. However, the moon's quiet would reverberate in the hearts of those who had paid close attention for a very long time.