The Meeting Of The Storytellers

[Wiseman]

Chapter 1

John Schmidt sat by his hearth in his home in New England, a letter in his hands, he dreaded opening it, for according to the postmark the letter had come from far away, from Crete, and according to the return address it was from his cousin Jacob, who had lived there for many years. He cast the letter into the fire, but his dog leapt into the fire and brought it back to him unsinged. The dog looked up at the man and barked in a strange way, it was almost as if the beast could speak, it was telling him to open it. "Open it and read." it seemed to say.

But John did not need to open it, for he knew what it said already, long he had known this day would come, his uncle, his father's brother, his cousin Jacob's father had been sick for many months and now death had come at last. He looked to his dog

"Alright, I'll open it." he said to the air in defiance. He reached into one of the many pockets in his tattered robe and brought out a strange letter opener. A letter opener formed from the sword which had belonged to the Soldier that had once imprisoned Death. He took the letter opener and thrust it into the envelope and ripped open the letter and unfolded it contents.

His fears were right, his uncle was dead, but there was more. His uncle had been a rich man, a millionaire, nay a billionaire, he had to go to Crete to hear the will and to find out exactly how much belonged to him and to his cousin. He fished into the envelope again and found two airline tickets, one and one for his dog. A plane to Crete was leaving in a week he must be on it, if he was to find out the answer to his questions.

He threw the letter and the tickets into the fire again, and again his dog retrieved them unsinged. He sat down in his chair and read the letter again, and then said "Okay, I'll go."

 

[The Count]

Hmmm... A curious start. If you're going to have the Storyteller as your main character, I'd recommend the following as stories you might want to read, all penned or typed by Sean (muppetwriter) in his crossover comics films/cartoon franchisal stable.
The Nightstalker Formation.
Tale of the Two J.L.'s.
A Deadly Alliance.
The MARVELOUS Storyteller: "Rider's Delight".
Hope this helps and have a good day.

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

Oooo!

I love your style of writing.

 

[Wiseman]

thnx Count and Beaker

Thanks, as you can see my story is going to evolve as a meeting between John Hurt's Storyteller Character from the American show (whom I have given the name John Schmidt) and Michael Gambon's Storyteller Character from the British show "Greek Myths" (whom I have given the name Jacob Schmidt) I have decided to have both of them be of German heritage. I am also thinking of a task that the two cousins have to fulfill in order to acquire the inheritance. John's dog and Jacob's will be introduced as two separate but similar looking canines.

 

[Wiseman]

Chapter 2

Chapter 2
Meanwhile, far away in Crete another man with a similar looking canine companion paced the floor of the labyrinth that had become his home. Many years had passed since both he and his cousin had left their native Germany. He to Greece and his cousin to America. Many more years had passed since he had been banished to this wretched island of Crete and thrown into the labyrinth that had once been the home of the Minotaur, since then his only companions had been his dog and the voices of heroes and gods past. From them he had learned the stories of the great myths of Greece, but what was troubling him now was no myth, but a true story, for indeed his father had died, and that meant he was going to have to leave the labyrinth and emerge into the world above.

He knew the way out of the maze, that was not a problem, but how had the world changed since he had been imprisoned here, and would they still have a use for a man such as him, a storyteller, a weaver of tales, a manipulator of facts and fiction? And what of his cousin, had he received the letter? Was he coming? How much of his father’s fortune had he been bequeathed? All these questions had plagued him since the day that the messenger had thrust the note with the news of his father’s death through the bars in the ceiling of one of the corridors of the labyrinth. He decided that there was only one thing to do, he must leave his prison and emerge into the light of day, he must go to the place where his father’s will was to be read and wait there.

He began to climb the stairs, up, up, up he went round turn after turn down passageway after passageway, past seeming dead end after seeming dead end till finally he found the door, he opened it and for the first time in what seemed like a millennium he saw the sun.

As he emerged out into the world a hand reached in pulled him out.

“Welcome, brother,” said the woman.

“I’m not your brother,” said Jacob angrily.

“Well, half-brother, we had the same mother,” said the woman.

“Yes, but not the same father, besides you’re the reason I was thrown in this labyrinth in the first place.” said Jacob.

“Yes, I know, your father couldn’t handle the fact that his wife had cheated on him, he banished me from his home too for the same reason.” said the woman.

“Where did he send you?” he asked.

“To the Isle of Lesbos.” said the woman.

Jacob had heard of the Isle of Lesbos and of the women who lived there, how they had left the natural use of men and burned in their hearts one toward another. He wondered what had happened to his half-sister on this island.

“How did you escape?” he asked.

“When your father died, my sentence ended,” she said, “I set sail for Crete and came to the window above the labyrinth. It was I who dropped that letter in to your grating telling you of your father’s death. It was I who retrieved and sent the letter to your cousin telling him of the same matter.”

“Well, where and when is my father’s will to be read?” asked Jacob.

“Not for another 6 days.” said his half-sister. “I am to take you to the place and help you get used to the outside world.”

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

How wonderfully solemn.

 

[The Count]

Yes... Taking shape this is... Please continue.

 

[Wiseman]

thnx

I wasn't sure how the half-sister would be accepted, actually I'm going to make her a minor character. I haven't quite decided on a name for her yet, but basically she's going to lead Jacob to the will reading site and then gracefully bow out. A few of the regular Muppet characters will turn up soon as we go back to the U.S.A.

 

[Wiseman]

chapter 3

Chapter 3

Meanwhile, back in the U.S.A. John was dragging an old suitcase across the floor. He opened it up and removed a pair of socks, a pair of underwear, an undershirt, a white shirt, a pair of trousers, a jacket and a vest. He then removed his robe and began to put on the suit.

He struggled a little to get on the trousers. His dog looked at him in a rather comical way.

“So I’ve put on a few pounds since the last funeral, its been ten years since my father died.” he protested. “I’ll just have the tailor take them out a few inches.”

He pulled the pants over his waist and snappered them up. He then tucked his shirttails in. Then he reached into his suitcase and selected a tie. He put the tie on his neck and attempted to tie it. After a few tries he said “Oh to heck with it” and threw the wretched thing down on the floor.
His dog picked it up and brought it to him.

“You want me to try again?" he said. “Alright, I will, but I’ll just mess up again.” He put it on his neck and started the knot, “See it’s going wrong all over again, I don’t know why they invented these ****** things in the first place. Nooses, that’s what they are, nooses!"

His dog barked at him.

“What’s that? I’ve got it?" He went over to his mirror to look.

“Well, how about that! It worked. All I needed was a little practice” he said.
“Now for the vest.”

He put the vest on and then the jacket. As he was putting his arm in the sleeve he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in," he said.

The door opened.

“Oh excuse me, I was looking for the storyteller," said a small boy walking in.

The storyteller turned around.

“Oh it is you," said the boy, “You look different.”

“Would you rather have me like this?" he said throwing his tattered robe over his suit.

“The robe doesn’t go with the suit," said the boy.

“Bah," said the storyteller, “I hate suits.”

“Why are you wearing one then?" said the boy.

“Because that’s what you wear to funerals.” he said.

“Who died?" asked the boy.

“My uncle," said the storyteller.

“Tell me about your uncle," said the boy.

“How many stories, have I told you since you started coming here, boy?" asked the storyteller.

“Nine," said the boy.

“Then this will be the tenth that will make it a nice round number.” said the storyteller. “Pull up a chair and listen.”

“I think your fire needs more wood," said the boy.

“Well don’t just stand there, get it," he said. “You know the drill.”

The boy went over to the pile and put a few logs in the fire. He then sat down on a chair.

The storyteller took off his robe and sat down on his chair.

 

[BeakerSqueedom]

Post more, m'dear!