There once was a man, cursed to tell tales of all but his own. His deep melodious voice forced to tell adventurous stories of heroes like Arthur, Hercules and all requested. The Town and travelers seemed to forget his name and only called him The Narrator.

Despite he himself not knowing the stories, the words slipped out of his mouth like tears from the eyes of his listeners. He wished for one of the heroes of his tales to show up and save him. But he knew that most likely no one was coming, for he was no damsel in distress.

There was many days where travelers in dark cloaks approached him in story to sit and listen in childlike wonder. He wished to interrupt his tale and plead for their help, but his voice wasn’t his to control any more, he was only a spectator in this story of his life, an unwilling participant.

Then one day, a burning summer day, he sat in the lodge regaling the heroic tale of Odysseus for the apparent 90 THOUSANDTH TIME. A hooded figure appeared, an action he was now accustomed to.

The stranger sat through the hours of the Hero’s excessive tale, keenly watching The Narrator. Finally the tale ended. Odysseus reunited with Penelope and suffered no consequences for the massacre of suitors he just committed. And the last word of the story left his lips and he looked around, waiting for another story to be requested - for he couldn’t speak except for the stories, that was the curse.

He stared into the dark hood of the stranger with pleading eyes. His golden eyes looked into the hood and met the swirling blue eyes of the stranger.

“Tell the story of the Narrator’s Curse” A feminine voice slipped from the hood, hissing like a snake. He thankfully took a breath and began:

“Nathaneil was born on August 27th of 1447, in a time soon to be known as the middle ages. He was born in the kingdom of Adoris and loved by his family. He was the son of a tradesman Jamison, the youngest of 5 sons and the only one in his family who would survive when the plague swept through their simple village.

He grew with his neighbor Jack’s family - he was the butcher. He was 19 when the woman arrived into their shop, already a grown man and an important part of Jack’s work as a butcher. Women would flock to their store to listen to Nathaneil talk. This made Jack think about marrying him off so the women would stop staring at the man like that.

One day, while Jack was talking to the father of a 16 year old Samantha’s father, Nathaneil was watching the store - as usual - when a rather peculiar figure walked in. It seemed to be a woman, but with the authority that seemed to radiate off of it, it was much more like a king to anything.

“Hello stranger!” He spoke with a smile, “Are you looking for anything in particular?” The girls around his sighed or squealed or gasped. He was getting rather tired of their actions and was about ready to cast them out of the store for the day when the person walked in.

“Yes.” The figure spoke as it approached, very much feminine in tone. “I was looking for you.” The figure stood in front of him, easily a foot taller than his simple 5’3’’ stature. He had to tilt his head to look at the woman.

“I want to you be my personal scribe reader. No other voice can replicate what you do with such simplicity. I am willing to pay you greatly for your work, let that not be a concern.” She tilted her head to the side as if to ask ‘What do you say about that?’

“I-I’m sorry ma’am. I have to decline. I cannot read stories for you as my living. I wish to be a tradesman like my father before me.” He tried to ease out, his melodious voice with a somber tone.

The woman was enraged. She pulled off the cloak and revealed herself as the malevolent sorceress queen from the neighboring kingdom of Sepsis.

“Since you shall not read for me, then that is all you shall do!” The queen hissed as her power worked through her arms.

The terrified man could only stare at the sickeningly green lightning as it split through the air towards him.

The pain that ripped through his body was too much for him and he fell unconscious before the queen spoke again.

“Should someone care enough for you to break the curse, the fate will befall them for you.”
And the man awoke, Jack staring worriedly at him, the women staring from outside -having been escorted out upon Jack's arrival.

“Nathaneil, are you alright boy?” Jack asked. Nathaneil tried to speak, but found that nothing but air came out, so he nodded.

“Speak, boy, what happened?” Jack forced, but Nathaneil could only point to his throat and motion a crown over his head.

“You must be mad, lad. I cannot understand a lick of what you're saying. Speak damnit!”

Nathaneil hung his head in despair. Until a soft voice broke the silence.

“He can't sir.” She spoke, a gentle girl of 17, “he was cursed by my queen, sir.” Her thick black tresses like night itself hung beside her head.

“Who dare you, to bring yourself here, Sepsis scum?” Jack spat. The rivaling kingdom was always attempting to take over Adoris. But they were magical folk, so Adoris became the head producer of Iron.

“I was told by my king to relay a message to this man's caretaker.” The girl snapped at him. How dare he call a lady scum? “It was about the curse his wife set upon the man. It can only be broken once one asks for his tale sincerely.”

“And once that happens, once someone asks YOUR story, they will be cursed the same as you have been.” with that, the lady fell into smoke that seemed to appear from under her dress and flee away, transformed as a bird.

And the man was cursed for many years. His stories revered, his followers growing in number and his heartache forever the only true friend he had. Forevermore, so it seemed, until today.” He finished with a tear fill his eye and he felt his neck change, it was like a hand let go of his throat.

“Thank you.” He whispered, his melodious voice finally free of its caging. “Thank you so much.” He started to weep tears of joy. “Who are you?”

The woman pulled off her hood and revealed, the beautiful woman Samantha. She was now 28 years old and still single. She had waited for him to take her hand, for she truly loved him, but she would much rather take his curse for him. She was beautiful, but alone and to make sure he lived happily like she thought he deserved, she would take his curse.

Samantha sought out the king’s messenger and was told the tale of the curse a few years prior. She had to prepare herself, make sure this was what she wanted to do, and finally she did.

She didn't mind that she was now forever cursed with the Storyteller's tongue, for love was the greatest story ever told - even if it went unspoken.