The stories with no place to go

The children wondered first and then they asked their parents. The parents wondered for a minute or two for an answer to appease and please and they wondered for a minute or two for themselves but as most things important and unrecognised, it was promptly forgotten and dismissed., shrugged of as most things deemed too fanciful or trivial.The stories remembered by no one, told to no one, what happens to them, where do they go; the stories were orphaned and shy, annonymous in their reserve, they waited to be heard. The gods above decided the crime would be far too great for a story to be untold and forgotten, the stories with no place to go were sent as dreams to the minds vivid and open, to the minds that still remembered to dream, to those minds that still remembered to revere their dreams.
The stories with no place to go are not lost, martyred to their cause, no, they are considered precious and those privy to them are blessed indeed for they possess something elusive that very few manage to hold on to as they grow up. The gods above mused over the babies being born solemn and sober, mature miniatures of their parents; to counter the growing epidemic of maturity, they resolved to send the untold stories to remind them of their magic to teach them to preserve the wonder and amazement within them. For despite all its practical and logical applications, maturity slowly with immense tact and delicacy slowly erodes away that wonder that magic.
The children aware of the world, aware of reactions expected and otherwise, whispered to themselves in their sleep. Their pillows held infinte promise as they smiled in their sleep. The world was magic then but as all things passed, they slowly, exquisitely slow, started to forget their dreams. The stories lost colour. The stories began to fade until all that remained was a most exquisite feeling tinged with bittersweet longing for something they knew in the back of their heads they should remember but they couldn’t. They stopped trying as time passed and the stories with no place to go went to them no more.

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