The Storyteller Chronicles
The Eater of Minds
The thing about English cuisine is that it looks absolutely disgusting, and to make it even worse, they have names like Spotted Dick. But it tastes so good, and after six courses I was full to bursting. Although my appetite was more than satisfied, it seemed that Mr. Watcher's story was lacking-unfinished. I mentioned as much.
Mr. Watcher smiled. "I would have been disappointed if you were satisfied." He made himself comfortable. "There is a bit more. The Storyteller spent that whole day sleeping off the nights activities and the next two convincing himself that he imagining the whole thing. So he showed up on Ziribella's doorstep, sure it was life as usual. He couldn't have been more wrong.
"All right," Xavier said in a sarcastically demanding tone, "who is that?" He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "And what did you do with my sister? Because she can stay there, I like this one better."
The Storyteller was ushered inside. "Come on, my Mom and Dad are gonna want to talk to you."
The Storyteller was left alone on the front room sofa wondering what on earth he had done. He was about to retreat to rethink his position when he saw a sight that stopped him in his tracks. Ziribella was standing in the doorway, at least he thought it was her, she looked completely different. She was wearing a dress, The Storyteller had never seen her wear a dress, especially lately. Her hair was different as well. It was styled and golden highlights added. There was also makeup and jewelry. The transformation was remarkable. He tried to speak but the words caught in his throat. "Oh good, I was hoping to catch you before you talked to my parents." She sat beside him on the couch. "What are you going to tell them?"
"I don't know, I thought I might start with the truth." He said.
"Yeah, and then they'll send me back to the shrink." She said in frustration. "Maybe we can get group therapy together. Of course that is if they don't just lock us up."
She cut in. "Z"
"What?" The Storyteller said, his train of thought interrupted.
Ziribella smiled. "Its O.K, you can call me Z."
Leaving the implications of her comment for later, he stammered back into his train of thought.
"Well...um...yeah... nobody's getting locked up." He sighed deeply. "I just need a moment to think. Alright, what did you tell them?"
"I didn't want you to be stuck using with what I come up with. I mean after what you did the other night, it would be no problem for you to talk us out of this." The Storyteller was distracted buy Ziribella fingers which were entwined in his. How long had they been there anyway? She was still talking. "...so I told them that I couldn't see what happened and that you took care of everything."
The Storyteller rolled his eyes. "I've got to think, I've got to think." he sighed deeply." I'm not going to lie."
"I'm not asking you to!" She said in a shouting whisper. "Just... I don't know."
Ziribella's parents chose that moment to walk in, followed closely by Xavier. "Hey, theres the man I want to talk to." He slapped The Storyteller hard on the shoulder as he walked around to the adjacent chair. Sitting he said. "I understand we have you to thank for bringing our little girl back to us." He had to of course put things in the most obnoxious terms possible, but he was starting to get a feel for how to handle this.
"It was nothing sir." He said with exaggerated humility. Her father ate up the sir.
"So why don't you tell us what happened." Her father leaned forward, giving The Storyteller his full attention.
The Storyteller began a tale that satisfied everyone. It began "Let me start off by saying that your daughter really deserves the credit..."