Here is the story, but I think I killed the idea
:
The Storyteller
By Rishiy
In the middle of the Neopian sea is an island. Storyteller Island. For many years, its lush jungles and sandy beaches have been the home of a unique tribe of Neopets, the Story Tellers.
In the middle of the island’s dense jungle, there is a clearing. It is carpeted in varieties of yellow flowers and small yellow lady birds and other kinds of bugs crawl through the grass. Beautiful yellow birds fly from tree to tree, singing unique songs and melodies. In the middle of the clearing is a tree. A lemon tree. It has a strong trunk of deepest brown, with branches and vines twisting and turning all the way up. Where the trunk meets the branches, they shoot out in all different directions, brimming with leaves and the ripest<<(comma goes here) fullest lemons, all year round.
Every day, under the lemon tree, countless stories are told by the natives to any tourist willing to spare a lemaniac or two. What they do with these lemaniac<<("s" goes here) is a different kettle of fish (or what ever they eat on the island) and a story for another day. But now we are going to listen to the story of Johia, the islands most mysterious story teller.
Johia surveyed the small group. He saw the inquisitive looks in all of their eyes.
“So, what story do we want today?” he asked in his patient voice. A murmur went through the crowd. “Ah, an indecisive group are we? Tha’s ok”, he said with a smile, as he played with the rings going through his ears. “I’ll tell you the story of this island, and how it came to be.”
He took something out of the leather satchel he had secured to his belt. He brought it to his lips and uttered some quiet words that nobody heard, or would have understood anyway. He lifted the item above his head and proceeded to sprinkle,<<(take out this comma) what was revealed to be dust onto the fire. He held onto the last grain for a moment, collecting his thoughts, the<<("n" goes here) dropped it onto the inferno. No sooner
than it had been<<(had it been) incinerated in the fire,<<(take out this comma)
did<<(than) the whole thing explode in a deep blue light, momentarily bathing the yellow clearing in a light shade of green.
As the explosion died down, and the fire extinguished its self, a coil of pure black smoke rose from the ashes. It hung there, before it became a cloud and images started running over it. Johia settled back and began to tell his tale:
The huge double doors banged open, and King Coltzan stomped into the great hall.
“Scribe!” he bellowed. The small Lenny came scampering into the hall, equipped with parchment and quill.
“Y-y-yes your highness?” he whispered with a stutter.
“Write me a decree! Any Story Teller must stop telling stories or be banished from Sakhmet. All stories in existence at the moment must be instantly destroyed!” the King finished. The scribe finished scribbling.
“But sire, we would have to take this to the high court! I don’t think you would be allowed to publish this decree without their permission!”
“Oh why ever not?, the King asked. I am the King after all!”
“Well, I’m just worried the court would think it was going against peoples’ human rights, that’s all.” The scribe explained.
“Fine then! But I will have this decree made!”
The next day found the King in the high court.
“You see your honor; this is a life and death situation. You must grant us this decree!”
“May I ask why Coltzan?” the judge asked.
“You see your honor; far too long have these story tellers been swinging votes an
y<<("d" goes here) changing people’s views. They aren’t even doing it as a political party. They are hiding behind their characters.” the king said triumphantly.
“Coltzan, it’s called their right to free speech.” the judge said, stepping down. “This case is closed.”
“Can I declare war on them?” Coltzan asked.
“That is up to you.” The judge said as he and the jury filed out through the back door. “Case closed.”
Once outside, (the)>> scribe scribbled down a letter that was to be sent to the leader of the Story Tellers. It was picked up by the royal messenger and sent off.
On the other side of town, the Story Tellers leader was finishing the tale of the magic parchment. He bid
ed farewell to his listeners and sat back waiting for the next party. He looked up, as the royal messenger walked in.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I am here to declare war!” the messenger said in his most important voice.
“Are you?” the leader said, raising one eyebrow. “Continue.”
The messenger carried on, slightly disheartened. “King Coltzan of Sakmet is declaring war on the Story Tellers and any pets or peoples willing to band with them unless they give up their occupation and stop telling stories.”
The leader paused for thought for a moment<<(comma goes here) the<<("n" goes here) replied simply, “No!” The messenger hurried out of the room to tell the king.
A week later the two parties met for war. The armies were lined up on each side of the river, waiting to meet in combat.
Coltzan stepped to the front of his troops. “Any last words?” he asked through gritted teeth.
The Story Tellers leader closed his eyes, as did the rest of his troops. Suddenly, as though
t united, the whole army opened their mouths and spoke as one. “Coltzan! You are draining you<<("r" goes here) land of its life! Our stories are not a plague, they are a gift. They are the seeds in the imaginations that sprout great trees of learning that your land is renowned for. They spark Sakmet’<<("s" goes here) famous diplomacy. We do not hide behind our characters! We use them to get into your mind, to make your people see things in a different light! But today, you have lost them, you have lost the blessing that has enriched your land for so long!”
And with that, the half <<(of the land) the Story Tellers were standing broke away, and floated far off into the sea to be know as the Story Teller Island, w<<("h" goes here)ere you stand today.
Johia stood. “Thank you for listening. My story has been short and sweet. But it had a moral. Stories are not to be taken for granted. They are the kindling of great fires of knowledge and imagination that burn through of minds. Thank you for listening.”
As the group moved away, Johia smiled, before moving off into the bushes.